Excellent, Mornara! Will try it in a bit.

I love fun little writing exercises like this.

Only the slightest vibration in the air indicated the change.
The woman searched the room for movement, sound, anything. There were none. The room and everyone in it remained completely motionless.
She leaned back in her chair, and closed her green eyes to the sight. She breathed, concentrated on the rise and fall of her chest, pulled her hand through her loose hair.
Across the table her fiancée sat with his mouth open in the middle of a sentence. He looked slightly foolish, but then, so did everyone.

The woman rose from her chair, and headed towards the restroom. She walked calmly, quietly, the soft soles of her ballerina shoes making no sound. She kept her eyes down as she passed the personnel and guests of the restaurant. The emotion on display discomforted her, and she wanted to give them a hint of privacy.

She entered the booth in the farthest corner. A couple stood pressed up against the wall; they too halted in the middle of action. The girl couldn’t be more than 16. The woman shuddered as she peeled the man’s fingers away from the knife he held against his prey’s throat. She thanked her gift, knowing that without it, she couldn’t have fended off such a man any better than this girl. She traced her fingertip across the girl’s tear-stained cheek.
Despite her other talents, though, strong was still not one of them. She struggled to drag the man out of the booth and into a closet at the far end of the hallway. She kicked him in the groin, hard, and wished she had the guts to do more. Then she locked the door and dropped the knife in a trash can.

Back at her table, she sat down, and let time resume its course.

----

Not sure whether I kept to the previous one or not. Hmm, at least I tried.

I'm going to do the first one if that's still acceptable

A tall and thin man, looking to be in his younger twenties walks into the room. His sandy colored hair is a mess, hanging down from beneath an orange harley-davidson hat with sunglasses resting on the brim.  He pauses just inside the door and glances over the room with blue-green eyes that seem to take in everything.

He takes a little longer to consider everyone and then walks to an empty table and sits down, immediately slumping down to appear less noticeable.  His appearance, handsome, with a well defined and strong face and a prominent nose.  A body built like a soccer player, with strong muscular legs, but thin arms and bony shoulders under a tight black shirt.  His jean shorts seem to have something in every pocket and hang down to his knees, covering most of his scarred legs, which along with his build leads directly to the assumption of his having played soccer most of his life. 

He smiles as he notices you looking at him across the room.  A smile that you can tell means he doesn't enjoy the attention.  You turn away, but you can't forget the intensity in those eyes.