[right][img]http://i.imgur.com/0899SnE.jpg[/img][/right]
[color=7f79c1]“Here is good, Mark,”[/color] Iris said, pulling at the child-proof lock tab on the door and grabbing at her backpack.  Mark jumped as if he had forgotten that she was there, but complied quickly enough.
“Have a good day, Mistress,” he advised her, and she nodded, waving at the car as he pulled away into the slight morning traffic through Main Street.  She shivered from the odd sensations that continued to plague her since last night.

[color=7f79c1]“First time I’ve ever gotten high off of Tylenol,”[/color] she muttered to herself, mentally commanding herself to stop feeling so excitable, and stepping toward the diner.

It had been an eventful night.  She’d had a hard time falling asleep, full as her mind was of hopes for buffs to Bloodrazor, which she had expressed in an eloquent forum post that had been quickly downvoted to oblivion.  Even so, she’d woken up after just a few hours, feeling simply awful.  Her vision had been swimming, her head aching as if it were the locale of a nasty rodeo, and she’d this awful pain crawling along her skin and in her bones.  And she knew that one wasn’t supposed to take asprin, Tylenol, and ibuprofen at the same time, but sometimes a girl just had needs.  Like a good night’s sleep.  She’s still only managed to knock herself back out for a few hours before the pain woke her again.

And now she could still feel that pain, perhaps even worse than before, and like some crazy person, she almost liked it.  Well, actually, for some reason it felt nice, but she wasn’t willing to admit that.

Her father’s local diner was the first place that had come to mind.  He might have been there, and when she had problems, she still had a childlike way of going to her parents to see if they could make it all better.  Yes, she could have done research online on her symptoms, or perhaps gone to a clinic, or something nice and independent and mature, but she really wasn’t feeling in the mood.
She managed to slip in without getting noticed, and staked out a booth in a darker corner, her normal place whenever she came to eat, or just to bother her father at work.  A collection of clowns (okay, they weren’t actually clowns) paraded in one by one after her, and she took the chance to observe them as she sat and waited for service.
One thing she noticed, which also stirred weird feelings in her, was that every one of them seemed to be in visible pain.  That one pinched her eyes together as if fighting a headache, that one wrinkled his forehead and glared as if… fighting a headache?  Actually, they all seemed to be dealing with headaches, at least.  And for some reason, that made Iris giddy.  Giddy was not a word that she ever used to describe herself, but there it was.

Something was definitely wrong with her.

And with the staff.  She’d been sitting for a few minutes, and yes, they were busy, but she was the owner’s daughter, and she’d been here first!  Surely she deserved some service!  She decided to take matters into her own hands, waving at the nearest waitress with a quiet, [color=7f79c1]“Claire!” [/color] The waitress had obviously not seen her yet, so hopefully calling out would break her seeming invisibility.

[@DFA]