Book 2, Chapter 029

Hito Yon ducked into a nearby alley where he could keep an eye on the hot dog stand and Al but still have some privacy while he called Mr. Tanaka.  Unfortunately, this left Al on her own when an unexpected late lunch customer arrived.

And naturally, that was the kind of situation that just demands for Doom – and Doom was in a pissy mood.  His conversation with Fred had left him fuming, but the one with the coffee girl had left him frightened.  At least until he got out of the room and started channeling his fear into anger.

Plus it was raining, and he only had ten minutes to get something to eat to bring back to the break room to prove he was just having lunch while he figured out what the hell to do about the stupid coffee girl.

No, Doom was not in a good mood.  But he was the sort of person who would take out his own frustrations on some poor hapless individual in the food services industry.

"Gimme a hotdog with everything on it," he snapped without bothering to look at Al.  And then, before she even had time to move he yelled: "Well, hurry up!  I don’t have all day, dammit!"

Al, who had never made a hotdog before in her life and had only the picture on the side of the cart to guide her, hurried.  There was a small boom as she telekinetically pulled together the components of Doom’s lunch at slightly over the speed of sound.

Doom, however, wasn’t paying attention.  "Damn," he said, glancing at the sky.  "Sounds like it’s getting worse.  Well," he added, "hurry it…"  He glanced down and realized Al was already done.

Doom blinked, impressed despite himself.  He fished a twenty out of his wallet and slapped it down.  Then he picked up his hotdog, took a bite, and waited for his change.

When it wasn’t forthcoming, he glanced at Al.  "Well, hurry it…" he started to growl around his mouthful.  But when he saw that instead of the usual slovenly college kid today’s vendor was an attractive, aristocratic dominatrix straight out of his favorite Science Fiction TV show, he choked.

Al tilted her head inquisitively while Doom coughed, hacking out the bits of bun he’d accidentally inhaled.  "Are you alright?" she asked – but she didn’t get a response.

Doom was already fleeing.

Et Alia, Book 2: Black Magic, Secret Agents, Shakespearean Tragedies and Interoffice Dating

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