It was nearing two o’clock by the time Diana emerged from her room to belatedly head for the main dining hall for lunch. Her first mistake. Arriving to a scene of chaos, she should have known the place would be packed; hungry customers mid-chowing down at every table, or lazily lingering to chat it up over post-lunch mimosas. Just because they were on vacation, wherein it made complete sense to be in no rush, didn’t mean it grated on Diana’s nerves any less. Loosening the long piece of fabric tied around her hair in a makeshift headband, she absentmindedly draped it over her shoulders and let her fingers move of their own well-practiced accord, tidily forming a double Windsor knot that hung loosely below her collarbone. Pacing near the restaurant’s waterfront tables, making purposeful eye contact with each group until a hint was taken, eventually good fortune decided to shine upon her when a set of couples occupying two adjacent tables (a double date, Diana gathered) rose in tandem to leave.
Prepared to pounce, Diana pulled out a chair to stake her claim over one of the vacant spaces, not trusting such would still be the case if she waited around for a server to clear it. Which, as she looked around, appeared scarcely available with the amount of other patrons to attend. In the meantime, taking matters into her own hands, Diana picked up the used cups and chinaware still covering the area in front of her. Balancing bowls and plates atop each other, she carefully pivoted around to place the stack upon on the neighbouring unoccupied table.
She had been about to gently set down the objects when a sudden blow of force caused them to ungracefully spill out of her grasp with a sharp reverberating clang— the aftermath of a passing pair of kids shoving their dishes onto the pile, off balancing the precarious arrangement and sending everything sliding. “Hey, I don’t—” work here! Diana bit back the rest of the sentence, already out of earshot, and resigned herself to abandoning the task altogether in favour of resuming her seat. “Do I look like a waitress?” Muttering the concern aloud to no one in particular, she looked down at her outfit for answers. White button-down blouse, black dress pants, a piece of fabric fancily fastened around her neck — altogether an appearance strongly evoking of the staff’s uniform… Oh. “It’s the tie, isn’t it?”