TMNT 2012 - Boyfriend Scenarios

How You Meet: Raphael

Handing you the last envelope, Brooke, your General Manager that evening, smiles warmly. "That's the last of the tips! Split right down the middle!" She hesitates, her brown eyes blank. "Er.. split quadruple-y?"

You laugh good-naturedly at the made up word, tucking the envelope into the back pocket of your jeans. "Thank you, Brooke."

"You girls did really well tonight!" She continues, her grin widening enthusiastically. You don't care what people think - Brooke is one of the sweetest people alive, manager or not. Looking around in faux suspicion, the bubbly twenty-three year old leans in closer to you and loudly whispers, "one patron left a thick wad of cash, and made sure I gave it to you by the end of your shift."

You feel the confusion etching itself into your features as you pull back from Brooke, craning your neck to see over the crowd around you, even though you can't possibly know who exactly she's talking about. You serve so many tables a shift here at Sparks Steak House that you can barely keep track of your regulars; and there are a lot of regulars.

"Don't be too obvious!" Brooke giggles, pulling on your arm. "Okay, I can't tell you who it is - that would break policy - but I will say that.." She cups her hand around your ear like a giggling teenager, and for a second you wonder if someone offered her extra caffeine.

"He's a mutant." She whispers, giggling again as she pulls away. You blink blankly; this piece of news seems to have sent Brooke into a giggling fit, but you can't really see the joke. Sparks, along with most restaurants in New York City, started serving mutants months ago. There's at least one or two of them in here a week, and, from what you can recall, they're always so nice. You remember just last week, a small mutant gecko walked in to taste the food; he called himself Jason, and you were the only one to wait on him because the other girls felt uncomfortable. How can you have missed serving a new mutant? You're sure that if one were here, they would've been noticed.

Frowning, you turn back to Brooke, instantly running into your own bag and coat as she thrusts them into your face.

"Whoops! Sorry!" She laughs, covering her mouth as if hoping you won't notice. Unable to be mad at this woman that you consider family, you shake your head and roll your eyes with a soft smile, slipping the bag over your shoulder.

"Klutz," you tut playfully, stepping around her to reach the front door.

"Bye, (y/n)!" Brooke shouts at your back, making you flinch in surprise. Somebody definitely offered her caffeine today.

"I'll see you tomorrow!" You call over your shoulder as you push the heavy glass door open and take an immediate left on East Forty-Sixth Street. You live quite a ways from the restaurant, but you're not worried; even on the lower end of the Upper East Side, you know you're still much safer here than you would be in, say, Hell's Kitchen. Besides, you have an emergency button installed into your phone; three clicks of the power button and the local police will be on their way.

You sigh softly to yourself, finely tuned to the chilly October breeze trailing through your hair; you think the weather app told you it's fifty-four degrees right now, which isn't something you're complaining about. You prefer the cold anyway. People on both sides of the sidewalk bustle around you as you walk, most going in the same direction as you, some trying to get by like salmon headed upstream. The city lights illuminate the streets, creating a warm glow much like something out of a movie, and the sight brings a soft smile to your lips.

Tonight would be good for writing, you contemplate, pulling out your phone to check the time. 11:45PM. Grimacing, you remember that you have English homework waiting for you at the apartment, due in a couple of nights. As much as you would love to put on some serene music and write until your hand cramps, you're more than aware that college comes first. Down time will have to wait.