Well, they had warned her they got the occasional nutter in here. Admittedly she couldn't smell alcohol on him - not that she planned on giving him a whiff - but these were not the words of a normal mind. The smile on her face took on a certain deer-in-the-headlights quality as she flicked a glance towards Harry the cook; if the man would stop staring at her with that giant grin on his face then there'd be some pretty impressive pantomime going on as well. Namely to the theme of [i]get out here with a rolling pin[/i]. Back in the old days it may have been more along the line of 'call the cops', but Sorcha was the realistic type; what policeman had time for anything less than a monster these days? Brown eyes blinked slowly as she regarded the stranger, pre-emptively taking a step back and taking her notepad with her. God only knew what she'd do if he started asking for an autograph; the thought itself was a bitter pull against what once she might have dreamed. 

"Hang on," she interjected, brows drawing abruptly together. "Where did you get my name?" Her first name may have been printed on her badge as plain as day - which proved that whatever his ramblings, he was at least sober enough to read still - but her last name was hardly something bandied about as a matter of course. "Do I know you?" Heaven knew she ought to remember someone with ears like that, but these days you could make a friend for life in the course of five minutes; shared fleeing for your life had a way of bonding people together. The rest of what he said went determinedly suppressed, her head shaking in denial as this man, this [i]stranger[/i] had the gall to drag all her hidden dreams and ambitions out into the light of day, mocking them for the world - or, rather, the entire restaurant - to see. "I don't know what you're talking about." She insisted, setting hew jaw stubbornly, ignoring the pull of his hallucinogenic spotlights. 

This was what she got for making small talk for the customers. Next time she would just settle for a smaller bloody tip.

A deep breath and she summoned some semblance of an admittedly insincere smile once more. "I think you must have me mixed up with someone else, sir." Never mind his use of her name - someone out there there must be one far luckier Sorcha Cooper living the life that should by rights be [i]hers[/i]. "Now, are you going to order something? Otherwise I think we'll need you to move along; the queue for a table today is terrible." 

If by terrible you meant nonexistent.