A/N: Writing this fic as a form of stress relief because finals make me want to punch walls. Updates will be sporadic.

Disclaimer: I own nothiiiing

All in Good Time

1.

Hitomi had entered the café on a whim. A bit of last minute desperation, if you will. The dingy, old café with its peeling walls and watery coffee, owned by a sketchy old man who thought he was, of all things, the reincarnation of Issac Newton— it had been her last resort. Her very last resort.

She'd entered expecting nothing, only to be pleasantly surprised.

.

.

.

He's fairly attractive, she muses, chewing on her bottom lip as she watches him from five tables away. Her chin rests on the palm of one hand while the other taps rhythmically on the table.

The subject in question is a young man, probably no older than she is. From where she's seated, Hitomi can tell that he has a lean build, mildly tanned skin, and the messiest head of black hair she has ever seen. It's too bad she can't see his face, otherwise she thinks he might be a winner.

She decides she likes his messy hair. He pulls it off pretty well. It's a bit like he just got out of bed, and if her observations weren't strictly for business purposes, she might've admitted to wanting to run her hands through it. (But they were, so she didn't.)

He is also single. She knows because she's been sitting in this stuffy café for a good two hours, watching him, and he still hasn't ordered anything. Which means he's probably been stood up by his date, if he even had one to begin with. Which is a pity for him, but wonderful luck for her.

Then again, he's also been approached and slapped by three different girls in the span of the two hours she'd been watching him. Hitomi isn't exactly sure what that had been about, but she figures it had more to do with the words that exited his mouth than his current relationship status.

She'd managed to hear one of the girls call him an asshole. It was rather loud. This is another point of interest that she'd like to investigate.

Hitomi gives his maybe-date five more minutes to show up, although it had been obvious that they weren't coming after the first hour had passed. She'd just wanted to make sure she wasn't charting forbidden territories. She has her morals.

When no one shows up she allows herself a small, victorious smile before rising from her seat and fixing up her blouse and skirt. She smoothes down her short, light brown hair and exhales, straightening her back.

Inhale. Exhale.

Hitomi takes the first step towards being a possibly horrible person and her spine tingles.