The Tea Tin - Eleanor

(This was a 'what if' scenario written for E Mayhem a few years ago now.  If E retired early, in my head this means most likely getting a career ending injury, she'd probably take her savings and open a little tea shop.  Enjoy!) It was a decent size for what it was. Walking through its doors was like stepping back through time, though the range of antiques around would make the patron think twice about exactly what that time was. It always smelled like some sort of baked goods which seemed to be baking at all hours of the day, not that there was no reason. The selection of coffee was nothing to brag about however the tea selection was always broad and brewed to perfection. It was always open at some godawful time in the morning however closed by 5 every day on the dot and was never open Sundays. There were two women and one man you'd always see around, no matter what time of the day it was. No one was ever allowed to feel alone or unattended however if you needed privacy they were conveniently out of sight. There was one woman who was less often seen however when she stepped out from the back she looked about with such confidence and unspoken knowledge that you almost felt like she had just been standing right behind you, watching your every move. Her smile was jovial, her welcome warm but the feeling she gave off was one of control. She was the owner, it was known without a word about it. The other staff reacted to her as if she was a long time friend however each task given was completed without a pause. Her workers were loyal and as such they were under her protection. If someone did not respect the establishment as was expected she would be the first one to open the door and escort such a person out. No one had seen her have to do more than ask... They never advertised their presence, not that they ever had to. Most of their clients were regulars who appreciated what was available to them and often offered back a smile and a hello when they stepped in to either stay for a meal or grab something to go. The kitchens were always spotless whenever they were not in use and when they were being used were not all that far away from it. Any of the three regular staff members could be trusted to run the kitchen however the owner was the one seen in there most often, quietly working on each bit of food with care and concentration. Most of the time she would not look up when one of her staff entered the kitchen however they knew that despite appearances she knew exactly who was there, where they were in the kitchen and that they could speak to her if they so chose. When someone foreign entered her eyes would shoot over immediately, confirming who was present before giving a smile and a welcome and either returning to her work or leaving her work for discussion, her interrupted job taken over immediately by whoever had escorted the person into the kitchens. Off of the kitchens were two identical doors. One opened to the back door and a set of stairs which led up to what had been in a previous life a private nightclub only accessible by the back and the kitchen. It now served as the apartment of the owner. The other door led to a small office which, while cluttered, was always clean. There was a desk which, in its width, was more than half the width of the office itself. The walls were lined with shelves which held books, computer accessories and pictures of what one might assume to be her family. They all centered around the same three people. Other than these the office failed to show where the owner had come from, what previous jobs or accomplishments she had. Her three staff members knew that she used to work in law however had failed to figure out where and when. It was understood without words that it was not a topic that she would answer questions about. If she wanted them to know they would know. It was a known fact that she was not a very old woman. Thirty Five years old and she owned a business and the building the business was located on. However the aura she gave off suggested that of a woman older and more experienced than she was. Elle Mayhem was not to be underestimated in any sense of the word.