This was all too much to handle; the sight of this woman he'd changed right in front of him, the iPad in his hands, the glint of orange eyes when he looked at his reflection in the polished screen.
'Forget that, she's back to normal,' he typed, and the woman who had been kneeling down stood up suddenly, reverted back to her professional dress. An odd look lingered on her face, like she was tasting something slightly unpleasant, but couldn't quite place the taste. The young man seemed to realize his pants were open, blushed a bit, then zipped back up. Daniel pushed his way out of the crowd and climbed the stairs up to the street level.
The fresh air felt bright and harsh, and the noise of the street was too much all at once. He ducked into a small cafe and took a seat at one of the tables. A deep sigh slipped from his nose as he settled down. He asked for a latte from the waitress. There were a ton of things to consider.
Foremost, to his mind, this was proof of the supernatural. Therefore, it was likely that other supernatural concepts existed. It'd be a good idea, then, to try not to anger any potential gods or spiritual entities. Daniel had never been one for spirituality, though. Karma--was that Buddhism or Hinduism? Either way, it seemed like the best way to guide his actions. Do a little something for the world, do a little something for himself. 'Everything in moderation', that was another good one.
"Here you go," the waitress said, and gave Daniel a smile as she set his latte next to his iPad. He watched her for a moment as she left. Reasonably pretty, but not remarkable. Short blonde hair, a little splatter of freckles on her nose. She had a bounce to her step as she walked; she wasn't letting the stress of her job get to her.
Who ever wanted to be a waitress, though?
Daniel looked at his iPad. He picked it up and typed out, 'When the waitress isn't working here, she' and then paused. Is an astronaut? Politician? Movie star? He didn't know a thing about her, and here he was, trying to perform philanthropy with a bulldozer. Then, he had an idea.
'When the waitress isn't working here, she's working her ideal job.'
Daniel peeked at her, curious to see if anything was visibly changing. As she loaded a couple of drinks from the counter onto a tray, her fingernails glistened slightly, longer, manicured, and polished. The tan freckles on her nose melted outwards, becoming a salon tan across her cheeks and down her neck, and presumably spreading out across the rest of her body. Within her collared top, her breasts jumped up and out. Her drinks jostled as her growing bust bumped against them. She simply moved the tray a bit further from her chest. They were large, and probably fake, but not in a garish, cheap sort of way--they had a sculpted sag to them, so they could plausibly just be the result of fantastic genes.
Her eager expression was tempered by the new, smoother eyeliner traced around her eyes, and the heavy look of her lashes. Her shirt clung to her waist, revealing how slender she had become, while her skirt kept a tight hold on her newly-plump ass. She was wearing stockings and stylish, expensive shoes and even her makeup had an air of faint refinement to it.
"Excuse me," Daniel said, as the waitress strutted by, "Have I seen you somewhere before?" The woman blushed faintly and pursed her newly-plumpened lips.
"I don't think so--sorry, have to take these," she said, raising the tray.
'She trusts me and she'll talk to me,' Daniel typed, as she brought the drinks to the table, then came walking back. "Are you sure?" he asked. "You just seem familiar."
This time, she stopped, and toyed with a lock of salon-trimmed hair. "Okay, look. I do work on the side as a high-end escort," she said, her voice lowered. "I just keep the waitress job so my parents still think I'm doing the starving artist thing. I can make thousands a night, and a lot of the time, I don't even have to do anything if I don't want to. Wait, why am I telling you all this? ...Hey, are you writing this down?"
"No," Daniel said, finishing off the line 'She's confident enough to do escort work full-time'. A look of vague surprise washed over the waitress. Her makeup thickened, from 'workplace pretty' to full-on flirtatious eyeliner and rich, glossy lipstick. The little studs in her ears grew into small, dangling chains with diamonds in them. Her shirt and skirt melted together into one garment, stretching around her figure in a silky black dress. Her tray folded up neatly until it was a little purse she held in her hand, and the cap she wore vanished, letting new, thick blonde locks tumble down her back. Back curled, her figure seemed to surge out a bit thicker; her extra confidence made her more willing to go under the knife to look better.
The last little change jacked her up six inches into the air, floating on the stiletto heels that wrapped around her feet. She smiled politely at Daniel. "It's been nice talking to you, but I've got to get ready for my date," she said. With a little trail of her long nail across his arm, she walked over to one of the tables near the door to take a seat.
All right, Daniel thought. One for the universe, done. Now, it was time to have one for himself.