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The waiter guy seemed to acknowledge her demands for a croissant and some coffee and with that, Sam looked down at her nails and started to pick at them. Her fingers, she noted, smelled ashen from the cigarettes she liked to smoke. Sam examined the mysterious gunk under her nails and used one of the tools at her disposal, a fork, to help extract it. It looked primitive, but the action gave her a great deal of satisfaction. Then she noticed a bit of skin rising from the sides of her nail and she meticulously began biting and tearing at it, eager to get rid of the imperfect annoyance. She succeeded though the area seemed close to bleeding. This wasn't the first time she'd done this either. The sides of her nails seemed, at close inspection, to be show more callused and healing areas where she had mauled at them. 

It was when she was done with this did Sam hear the sound of a man joining her in the opposite seat. Her muscles tensed at the sudden interaction and was added with the man asking her if he could sit where he was. Perhaps he should have asked that before he actually sat down. Her charcoal smeared eyes leered, just peeking over her boots to get a look at the intruder. He was just a random Joe Schmoe who was in a chipper mood. The 'good morning' grated at her nerves and his excited tone made her very annoyed. There was a long moment of Sam just leering at the man, hoping that the uncomfortable silence and the glare would be enough to make him go away. As this went on heat could be perceived to slowly rise in the small space. It wasn't much, but it was very noticeable. His departure didn't happen though. He wanted an actual answer, as if her chilling look hadn't given him an answer enough. She took in a deep, long breath as if to gather the strength to deal with this unwelcome person. "[color=a0410d]Uhm, yes, actually. I [i]do[/i] mind.[/color]" She paused for a moment, her malicious tone sinking in. "[color=a0410d]There's, like, a billion open seats in here, so buzz off.[/color]" Sam rolled her eyes and it was just at that moment that her food got here.

Her stomach grumbled at the bitter smell of black coffee and the buttery goodness of the croissant. To this she actually let slip a smile as she moved her boots off of the table and eagerly sat up to get her food. Sam's eye's flicked to the waiter who asked  what the other man would want and she interjected. "[color=a0410d]I don't care what he gets, but he's not eating at my table. I don't even know this guy.[/color]" It was at this point Sam hoped she had been a bitch enough to force the man to grumble away and leave. She just wanted her peace and quiet to eat her food and drink her coffee. Hell, she hadn't even had her first cup of coffee yet. Who could blame her for not being exactly happy about being confronted with social interaction this early? It was just a chore and an anxiety she didn't want to deal with right now.

[@Ambra] [@Gikel]