The woman truly looked horrible. And not only that, Miya was convinced this stranger was going to catch a cold, who went out with wet hair during this time of year? The petite woman should have moved on, should have ignored the stranger entirely. It really wasn't her business but she couldn't help but analyze the woman. At first glance, she looked hungover but after a moment longer of inspection, it seemed to be more than that. Whatever had happened, she seemed to be coming out of it, not well, but her system was trying to fight it off.
When she inquires if the woman is okay, Miya is convinced the stranger is going to ignore her, and if that had been the case, the petite woman would have merely walked right on out. Who was she kidding? She would have harassed the woman even more if she had been ignored. It takes a moment for her words to register and when they do, Miya instinctively reaches her hand out to balance her as she snaps her head around. Realizing she wasn't falling out of the chair, the woman blushes furiously, she merely looked like a fool with her arms outstretched. Immediately, she shoves her hands back into her pockets as the woman shakes her head.
Miya casually steps out of the way as the barista returns, a frown so etched into her features as she watches the woman. She was clearly sick, "I don't think coffee is going to help you feel better," Miya says quietly as the barista leaves, hardly realizing the words had left her lips. Yet, it was too late to take them back, perhaps she should leave, the woman hardly wanted anything to do with her. And that's what Miya is just about to do before the woman turns to her again, her eyes narrowed in on Miya, the Asian woman feeling slightly uncomfortable under that stare. She never got along with other women well.
"Um, I don't think so. You just didn't look like you were feeling well is all," Miya mumbles over her words, chocolate eyes immediately dropped to the ground, even as the stranger whips her head around to face her. "I work at a hospital and I've seen symptoms like you're having, I was just hoping I could help," Miya says again, her chocolate gaze traveling back up, entirely aware of how poor the woman's breath smelled. Yet, Miya did not back away, she held firm on her ground. Perhaps it was a flaw in the young woman, always seeking out to help people, to heal people, but she couldn't truly stop herself from doing it. Even if it was someone she hardly liked, she couldn't very well leave someone in pain.
Miyako Aiken