No way! Try again. Maybe next time it'll work out. Cheer up, girl!
Ella:
Yeah, of course... (Just then, the café door chimes. A customer walks in.)
Ella:
I'll talk to you later — duty calls. (She quickly stands up.)
(The customer is wearing a mask and a bucket hat, his face almost completely hidden. The café is nearly empty. He walks straight to the counter without glancing around or looking up.)
Customer (Damian):
One cold coffee with ice cream... and a side of chips.
(He speaks clearly, but never looks up — not at Ella, not at the menu. As if he knew exactly what he wanted before walking in.)
Ella (blinking, slightly confused):
O-Okay, sir.
(She notes the order and walks toward the kitchen, whispering to herself.)
Ella (to herself):
Weird... Who wears a hat and mask indoors? He didn't even look at the menu.
Does he think he's some kind of celebrity?
Whatever. I've got work to do.
(She hands the order to the kitchen
The rain poured heavily outside as Damian stepped into the café. A gust of wind pushed some rainwater inside with him. he chose the single seat closest to the entrance. It was quiet inside — just the low hum of soft music and the occasional clink of dishes.)
(Moments later, Ella approached with his order. But as she neared the table, her foot slipped on the wet floor.)
Ella:
Ahh—!
(She tripped, and the tray tilted — the cold coffee spilled straight onto Damian's white shirt.)
Damian (jumping up):
What the—!
Ella (panicked):
I'm so sorry, sir! I didn't see the water—!
(She placed the tray on the table and rushed to get tissues. She came back with the whole box and reached out to wipe his shirt, but he stopped her.)
Damian (sharply):
Stay away.
(He took the tissues from her hand and began wiping the stain himself.)
Ella (guilt-ridden):
Sir, I'll pay for your shirt. These stains are hard to remove from white fabric...
Damian (coldly):
Oh, really? Your entire year's salary is probably less than the cost of this shirt.