Mairsil Petrov was too high-class to be in a place like this; dingy, dirty, and degenerate were all correct adjectives that described the Flying-J truck stop he happened to be in. His fingers ran through thick black hair attached to his scalp, scratching, trying to remember why he came here. Something about some guy getting blown up the other night had startled him, shook something loose, then he came driving out past the outskirts of Sacramento...
That is why you are here, Mairsil.
That did not make any sense, at least Mairsil thought it didn't. Maybe he stopped here to feed, after all, just hours ago he remembered thinking to himself how bad he did not want to drink any of the red stuff but he managed to convince himself otherwise. Yes, feeding, that actually made sense.
"Here you are, hun. You look a little pale, like you could use some more food, so I threw on an extra egg for you." The waitress' voice had a thick southern drawl to it, and it came so suddenly that it startled the Architect. He didn't reply, but only stared at the girl with his wide mad eyes; she promptly left after a moment of long awkward silence and then Mairsil's eyes continued to wander.
Mairsil stared down at his truck stop late-night breakfast platter. Eggs, bacon, sausage, and toast. He wished to himself that he could eat some and actually keep it down, but his "condition" no longer allowed him that luxury. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he did not order himself the food -- at least he did not remember doing so.
Hunger can confuse even the most hardened of souls...
Maybe in his confusion he did order himself some food, after all the menu was still open in front of him. He quickly came to the conclusion that it was best not to think about it. His eyes darted around the truck stop's diner, looking to see what was going on and who's neck was available to bite. He was, for the most part, alone inside -- there isn't much activity at 1AM at a Flying-J off of I-5. There were a few trucks idling outside, and another guy in the diner area asleep with his trucker's cap over his face, not to mention the waitress -- a young looking girl with red dirty hair who looked like a typical trailer park girl with four kids.
"Surely there are better places to feed than this." He muttered to himself as he looked down at his coffee, using his heightened sense of smell to take in its pungent aroma.
Stay awhile longer, Mairsil, see what happens...
Draft this Post
