When a fae is bored, that's generally a good reason to avoid them. Odd things happen around bored members of the fae race, probably because they're capricious things and apt to play with foolish mortals' minds.

Meg is no exception.

She's odd-looking under normal circumstances, but today, she's very odd-looking. A dress that seems to have taken medieval/Italian Renaissance fashion and modernized it--myriad chains hang from the sleeves, instead of ribbons, and the bodice ends at the bottom of her ribcage, and the skirt begins at her hips, leaving a lot of flesh showing--all in black, along with her hair and her eyes...

She's quite a sight. And not necessarily for sore eyes, either.

Norman looked... just as normal as he always did. He wore a plain blue long-sleeved shirt rolled up past his elbows, black pants, black shoes... His clothes all looked comfortable, like they'd been worn enough times that they didn't have to be fussed with and adjusted when he put them on.

It was his lunch break, and he was tired, Besides actually sleeping, what was better for curing tiredness than caffeine and sugar? The young man hung back in the line (This place is always so busy at lunchtime...) and pondered what he was going to order. Something with insane amouns of sugar and caffeine in it, probably... anything that would keep him from falling asleep at his desk.

His china-blue eyes roved the room, and briefly came to rest on Meg. He looked away, almost so quickly as to make himself conspicuous. Like looking at her had been a bad thing. Norman had a relatively low tolerance for ordinary things that were out of the ordinary, such as odd clothes.
He had almost no tolerance for extraordinary things. At all.

The Bean, like many coffee shops, has enormous windows that act almost as mirrors when the light hits them properly. It's not so strange to see oneself in the window when one is standing in line...

It's a little stranger to see oneself dressed in a clown suit, and no one else visible in the window, not even the bored employee behind the counter.

Meg has decided to single out this irritatingly normal person and make herself unbored.

Don't stare, he told himself. Then he brushed the weird girl completely out of his mind, and went back to the thought of coffee. Once it was his turn, he gave his order, then waited, tapping his fingers on the smooth counter surface. He had no cause to be impatient, other than that he still had to get back to the office on time. He suddenly felt that maybe he'd take his lunch with him, instead of having it here.

Too busy in here, he told himself, as an excuse, It'll just annoy me to stay here.

The clown-suited image of Norm in the mirrorlike window chose that moment to strike up a merry looking dance, involving much jumping, kicking, and other difficult things.

Those shoes were really rather ridiculously large, even for a clown.

Meg was watching Norm with those eerie eyes. (They were entirely black, you see. No difference between iris and pupil, and they almost seemed to be glowing. She wanted him to react.)

His fingers stopped the idle tapping on the counter, and he was briefly transfixed by the odd image in the window. He looked quickly behind him, then down at himself. His jaw dropped slightly, before he clamped his mouth firmly shut, and-
"Your order, sir. That'll be ten seventy-five."
Norman jumped, startled. He managed a weak grin at the counter attendant, paid for his lunch. Then picked it up. He deliberately looked away from the window as he began making his way to the side of the room farthest from the window. He seemed to have abandoned his thoughts of leaving the coffee shop right away.
I didn't see that. It's not there. Wasn't there. If it was, it was a projection,.. from a- a- screen of some kind. Yeah. Screen.

That was better. React, boy.

His lunch started glowing. That can't be natural.

And of course the nasty expression on the girl's face--the one still watching him--has nothing to do with the strange way his food is behaving.

Norman stared for a second. He didn't scream. This wasn't possible. This wasn't happening. A sudden tremor shook his hands and he dropped his bagel and coffee. Luckily, he only splattered the hem of his pants a little as the coffee cup landed and burst open. He managed a sickly-looking, even weaker grin than before, at the person behind the counter, and everyone who turned to look when he dropped his lunch.

"Burned myself," he lied, apologetically. "Sorry."
From the corner of his eye, he saw Meg's smile. It gave him chills. So, he looked away from her, and went back to the counter to get a replacement lunch.

The food was not glowing.

No, it wasn't glowing. (Anymore.)

But was it... moving? Wriggling, as if it were alive? Next thing you know, it's going to sprout wings--or legs--and start wandering around the coffee shop.

Her smile was very pleased, in a nasty kind of way.

It was such a lovely long line, wasn't it...

He caught the slight movement out of the corner of his eye, before someone cleaned up the mess he'd made. He turned his head away, crossing his arms and tapping his fot on the floor. It was barely visible, but a muscle in his cheek was twitching veeeery faintly.

I didn't see that. Didn't see it. Mind's playing tricks on me... Maybe I'm schizophrenic. That would explain it all. And those weird looks I get sometimes. Maybe I'm paranoid. Isn't paranoia a symptom of schizophrenia...?

If I'm really crazy, though, can I know that I'm crazy...?
His mind continued to run in this unnerving direction as he slowly, slowly moved forwards in line.

It probably didn't help the direction of his thoughts that the people in front of him seemed to be flickering in and out of visibility as they all moved forward in line. The guy at the counter was blinking green and blue, and the current customer was purple.

Meg is really feeling malicious today.

If the guy didn't run screaming, she'd feel rather impressed with him, and maybe she'd see about toning it down a little and being nicer, in deference to his courage. (Or maybe she would intensify her torment, until he did run screaming.)

I am not letting this get to me, he told himself, and actually closed his eyes so that it would go away. If he closed his eyes, he didn't have to see it. The only downside to that was that he couldn't see where he was going, and he frequently nudged against the next people in line as he made his way along.

Maybe something's wrong with my eyes! The thought made him smile, though you'd think that finding out your eye were messed up wasn't really a pleasant thing. It was better than thinking he was seeing these strange things. He opened his eyes, and took off his glasses, carefully tucking them into his shirt pocket and looking around, naively expecting all the weird sights to just vanish.

...I should mention, he can barely see without his glasses. Really.

I would think that large blurs of brilliant colours dancing around in front of one's eyes would be even more frightening than ordinary things turning strange colours, wouldn't you?

The guy at the counter rather resembles Jello, now, right down to the melting in the heat of the overhead lights. The rest of the customers are blinking like a traffic light, only faster.

Incidentally, Norm is still the only one who can see all this. Everyone else sees everything normally. Meg is thoughtful like that; no need to disturb others than one's intended target.

Once again, it was Norm's turn at the counter. He was alternately shutting his eyes, or looking at the floor as he gave his order. He was used to seeing blurry blobs around him, when he had the glasses off. That they were brightly-colored was... odd, but now that he couldn't see the faces, it was much better.

He paid for his lunch (again) and then hurriedly found himself a table. He wasn't going to run off without putting his glasses back on -he'd put them on once he left this crazy coffee shop.

Well, that was no fun...

Hah. There was an idea.

Little globes of light danced in front of his face suddenly. You know the kind I mean; faerie lights. The sort that Meg's kind used to use to draw humans into their hills for who knows how long...

If she can't torment him at a distance, why not up close?

He blinked briefly up at the lights.
Then he looked back down at the table, and calmly began eating his lunch. He was eating as quickly as he could while still being polite - he wanted to get out of there, fast.

Still seeing things. Damnit. Why won't they go away? It used to be I only heard things - that wasn't so bad. I don't want to see things, too! Not things that aren't real, anyway...

She frowned. It wasn't supposed to work that way...

The lights darted down and started dancing on his food itself. If he wants to finish his lunch, he'll have to at least glance at them every so often. He might miss a bite, otherwise. Is he the right kind of clumsy that he can't eat properly if he can't look at his food?

Meg hopes so.

Seeing things, he convinced himself, and actually began to calm down a little. He was only seeing things - nothing had happened besides him reacting to seeing these,...well, whatever they were. If he could only convince himself not to see them anymore...

All the same, he closed his eyes and rested his head on his hand as he continued to eat. The lights weren't having any physical effect on his lunch as far as he could tell,... and he'd be damned if he'd go back to the office without having eaten. It would probably cause further hallucinations.

Stupid human.

Meg grumbled to herself in a language that didn't sound like English--which it wasn't. Which was good, because what she muttered was not at all the kind of thing you want to hear in public--and scowled across the room at Norman.

Then she got up, started to leave, then paused.

Hah.

See if he'd ignore her then.

She sat down next to him and smiled sweetly at him.

"Hi."

"Hn?" He opened his eyes wide, startled by the sudden voice so close to him.
Who...? This thought came a few moments after peering at her and trying to focus to see if he could recognize her. Finally the colors and blurs made sense, and he realized, Oh, it's the weird girl.
"Hello," Norman said simply, then closed his eyes again. "S-sorry, the light in here is bothering my eyes, hope you don't mind."

Weird? If Meg could read minds, she would be offended. She was so much more interesting than just 'weird.'

"Poor you."

She traced circles and swirls on the tabletop in front of her... and started to change color. The black faded into a deep maroon, then to a deep purple, then to navy blue. And by that, I mean all the black. Hair, clothing, and eyes.

As Norman had his eyes closed, he didn't see what she was up to. He began sipping his coffee. Unfortunately for him, he had to drink it slowly because it was too hot to just down all at once.

He was curious about what she was up to, - he could hear her moving - bt unless he put on his glasses he wouldn't see anything. Maybe when he was ready to leave, he'd take another look.
"Ehm,... so,... what's your name?" he asked, not liking the awkward, eerie semi-silence very much.

Stupid boy had his eyes closed. Well, she'd have to fix that, somehow.

"Guess."

And she grabbed his glasses.

"Boy, you have got to get new frames. These things are the ugliest I've ever seen, and they make you look stupid, too."

Whether that was her actual opinion doesn't really matter.

"You have your opinion, I have mine. I happen to like them," he said stiffly. No one likes having their appearance criticized. "Could you give them back, please. I need those to see with. I don't have an extra pair."
A sudden, somewhat hysterical note crept into his voice. He still refused to open his eyes, but he almost had when he felt his glasses being taken from him.
"And please don't break them."

She chuckled nastily.

And there was a snapping sound, as if she'd broken them right across the bridge. (She hadn't, actually. She just wanted him to think she had. She might break them later, if he doesn't cooperate.)

"Poor abused baby."

"You - you didn't!" he gasped, shocked. He opened his eyes to see what she'd done to his glasses. He was hoping to see them still in one piece. This was funny because he couldn't see them anyway - when he put them on in the mornings, he was only able to find them by the vivid red case he put them in, or by touch. "Are you crazy?!"

"Prob'ly."

Is he going to notice her changing colors now?

"And I didn't. Yet."

She snickered.

He's noticed the changing colors - but he's pretending he doesn't. For all he knew, she could have nothing to do with these weird sights, and was just some partiularly nasty girl.

"Give. Them. Back."
He frowned angrily.
"Now."

"Why?"

Particularly nasty only sometimes. When she's in the right mood, she can be quite sweet. As Mort found out, actually.

Tendrils of light that matched whatever color she happened to be at the time swirled around and around the glasses.

"Because I need them for things, like, oh I don't know, seeing?" he snarled. Norm could have something of a temper when under pressure. Actually, he was usually in a bad mood. It was like his normal state of being: moody. "And walking. Driving. Writing. Anything you can name that I do that requires proper eyesight - that's why."

He rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes. Not seeing this.
"Now give them back. Don't be such a bitch."
(Watch your language, Norman.)

She slid away from him and stood up, holding the glasses--which were now glowing brilliantly--above her head and sticking out her tongue.

"Be nice, or I really will break them."

And she will, too. When she makes threats, she follows through. (At least, she follows through on threats that involve things to happen immediately. She has a habit of forgetting ones that involve long range planning.)

"No! No, don't. I'm sorry," he said, in a pleading tone. "Don't break them. Please just give them back?"

Is it sad that he's said this exact same thing before? Only it was on a playground, and he was in third grade...

The brightness was starting to blind him a little, so he squinted. It sharpened his vision slightly, but not enough to make much of a difference. He could guess that she was holding his glasses over her head, though - he recognized that taunting pose from years ago.

The funny thing is that if he stood up, he could probably snatch them away from her. She's not really all that tall, you see. Her head might come up to his shoulder, if they were standing next to one another. (And she wasn't wearing platform shoes.)

"Maaaaaaybe," she singsonged. "What'll you give me?"

Is it bad that this is probably much the same thing that was said to him last time he was in this position?

He was probably taller than she was - but just because of that, didn't mean he'd be able to get the glasses back. He could guess where they were, btu couldn't see them. And he didn't fancy trying to wrestle them from her fingers. Too much danger of them getting broken.

"Maybe you'll just give them back because I said please?" he said, without much hope.
...Oddly enough, what she'd said had been nearly exactly what the reply had been, before. But at that time, Norman had had a pack of grape bubble gum to offer in exchange. He didn't carry bubble gum anymore.

... Oddly enough, Meg is just strange enough that she might have accepted a pack of grape bubble gum.

"Nuh huh."

You'd think someone would have noticed this by now...

"Gotta give me something."

One wonders why he hasn't recognized the fact that he started seeing things when she started watching him.

"Fine," he said wearily. "I'll - buy you a cookie or a doughnut or something. How's that sound?"
He paused to mutter, "God, what's wrong with my eyes?" while rubbing at his left eye with a knuckle. Then he blinked back up at her. "I just want my glasses back."

He definitely hadn't been planning on paying for his lunch twice, and then buying some weird girl a cookie, but... well, it seemed that that was the kind of day it was turning out to be.
...If it were a little quieter in the coffee shop, Meg might be able to hear the little pulses of annoyance and fear coming from the glasses, along with a soft thought-mutter of What the hell is going on?

A cookie's good enough for her.

"Cookie. Chocolate chunk, if you please."

Actually, she did hear them. Because, you know, she's fae, and thus rather more sensitive to magic than a boring human might be. (On an unrelated note, isn't it odd how few 'ordinary' humans there really are?)

How very interesting.

"Here you go."

"Thanks," he said briefly, and stuffed the glasses back into his shirt pocket. Then, good as his word, Norm went back to the counter to get the weird girl a cookie. He plunked it down on the table in front of her, and took his seat again - he still hadn't finished his coffee and he refused to go back to work without having finished every last drop.

For a moment, he was tempted to put his glasses back on his face, just so they'd be safe,... but he quickly put that thought away. It was bad enough seeing the twisted colors. Seeng the details would definitely make it worse.

"You'd be cuter if you got contacts and did something with your hair," she informed him.

The impish impulses are dying down a little; she's more entertained than she was, and she has a cookie that she didn't even have to buy.

"As is, you look like a geek with no life and no intentions of getting one."

This is her version of friendly advice.

"I can't wear contacts," he informed her between sips, "My eyes can't handle them. Allergic, or something... And - what's wrong with my hair?"

He frowned. It wasn't as if he went to any great trouble to make himself look nice, but did she have to be so harsh?
"...do too have a life..."