Title: Coffee For Your Thoughts?

Author: Jedi Buttercup

Disclaimer: The words are mine; the world is not. I claim nothing but the plot.

Rating: PG.

Summary: Vincent approached the despondent scientist seated in the back corner of his café with a fresh pot of coffee and a sympathetic smile. 500 words.

Spoilers: Eureka post-3.8 "From Fear to Eternity"

Vincent approached the despondent scientist seated in the back corner of his café with a fresh pot of coffee and a sympathetic smile. He hated to see anyone frowning on his premises-- even out-of-towners like Dr. Hendricks-- especially after eating one of Vincent's made-to-order meals.

"Need a refresh?" he asked, gesturing with the pot to catch the man's attention.

Dr. Hendricks blinked at him a few times, then sighed and pushed his empty mug across the table. "Sure, why not," he said with a sigh. "It's not like I'm going anywhere anytime soon."

"Oh?" Vincent asked encouragingly as he poured. He still hadn't heard the full story of what had gone on up at G.D. and in the bunker that day; his usual sources of information had yet to fill him in on exactly what had led to the Sherriff's untimely dismissal outside the café in full view of half the town.

"Yeah." Hendricks grimaced. "After having to use over twice the amount of instantanium I had budgeted for the job here, getting detained by the D.O.D., being required to give my formula to G.D.'s scientists and help them figure out how to break it, not to mention not getting paid because the woman who hired me disappeared under a cloud of suspicion-- I'll be sticking around awhile. At least until the general untangles enough red tape to reimburse me."

"Ouch," Vincent said, wincing. "Can I get you anything else?"

"Not unless you can rewind time for me," Hendricks replied, sourly.

Vincent tried not to wince. It wasn't that they couldn't; it was just that the results weren't worth the cost, as the unfortunate Leo Weinbrenner had proven at the expense of his and Dr. Stark's life. "Sorry, not without risking the complete unraveling of the universe," he replied, lightly. "But I do make a mean Bailey's Irish Cream pie."

Hendricks raised his eyebrows, then snorted and shook his head. "I'm not going to ask what you meant by that," he said. "After what I've seen today-- sterilizing the water table with a nuclear explosion, for God's sake-- I wouldn't put anything past you people." He stared down into his mug for a moment, then gave Vincent a lop-sided smile. "Ah, why not. I think I can put the diet aside, just this once."

"I should say so," Vincent said, grimly.

It was no wonder General Mansfield had been looking to chop off heads; nuclear bombs were a little extreme, even for this town. Hopefully Henry or Allison would be able to change the general's mind about the sherriff, but in the meantime, he'd have to start making up an extra-special care package, just in case. It wouldn't be fair to expect Zoë to subsist on her father's cooking after all this time with a superior source of nutrition at her disposal.

Perhaps he could even throw a farewell-slash-staying-in-town party? Thoughts humming along happier lines, Vincent hurried back behind the counter. "One slice of Irish Cream pie, coming right up."

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© 2008 Jedi Buttercup.