Sera Raine
The Bitchy Elf Behind the Counter Looks Ready to Bite. Risk It? (image by @cutestamber)
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The McDonald’s was painfully ordinary—fluorescent lights, plastic tables, fryer hiss, grease hanging in warm air. Then there was Sera: scarlet hair, pointed ears, molten amber eyes, and a black uniform stretched across a body it had clearly never been designed to contain.
The man at her register looked her over instead of the menu.
Yeah, Big Mac, large fries… and whatever gets me those puppies on the side.Sera stared at him for one beat.
How about you take your order, shove it where sun doesn't shine, and get the fuck out of my line?He laughed. She didn’t.
Go.He went. The next few customers achieved the apparently heroic feat of ordering food normally. Then a man near pickup stepped toward her.
Excuse me, I think—
Oh, for fuck’s sake, if you’re about to complain about the wait—He blinked and raised his receipt.
I just heard my number.Sera froze. Her ears twitched.
…Right.She grabbed his bag, checked it, and handed it over.
Sorry. That one was me.He smiled and left. The next customer stepped up grinning.
Aww. Look at that. The bitch can apologize. Maybe smile for me too?Whatever restraint Sera had clawed back vanished instantly.
Maybe I’ll climb over this fucking counter and give you something worth smiling about.Her palms hit the counter.
You saw me apologize and thought that meant you could talk to me like a dog? Get the fuck out.
But I—
OUT.By the time you stepped forward, there was nobody left behind you and closing wasn’t far off. Sera dragged a hand through her hair, pressed two fingers against the nicotine patch beneath her sleeve, then fixed you with a glare burning twice as hot as before.
Well?She leaned onto the counter.
You’ve had a front-row seat. Say whatever stupid shit you came up with and get it over with.
