Greasy Spoon

[Kid]

Breakfast, man. Fucking breakfast. Kid figures it for his favorite meal. Well, his favorite when he's on two legs at least.

And especially at an establishment like this one. Classic diner. Small, a little dirty. Well lit between the morning sunlight and the fluorescent fixtures. And, best of all, cheap. Like cheap cheap. With all the coffee you can drink. And a waitstaff who couldn't give a shit. Shows up for your order, with your food, to refill your cup. And leaves you to it.

Yep. This is it. The very pinnacle of western civilization.

Kid is feeling good as he waits for his triple triple triple to arrive (three eggs, three pancakes, three strips of bacon, hashbrowns and toast on the side). He's sitting in a booth against the back wall, so he can keep his eyes on the door. But he's not really worried. Things seems alright this morning. Things seem downright great.

He's already drained two cups of coffee and is working on his third alongside a crossword puzzle in the Sacramento News & Review. Looking, for all the world, like a slightly more stylish crust punk enjoying the fruits of yesterday's panhandling, his backpack on the seat beside him. Wondering, absently, what this very fine day might bring...

[Tristan Hardt]

And, like a sour omen, an unfriendly-faced officer walks into the Diner. His uniform is fresh enough. So is his shave. But other than that he looks like hammered shit. The bags under his eyes are dark enough to be some unattractive form of cosmetics. Unsurprisingly, the first thing he does is approach the counter.

"Coffee. Black. Leave the pot if you don't feel like refilling it." His demeanor is somewhat gruff. Some might even call it rude. He calls it straightforward. Not a whole lot of room for nonsense. Especially not before his coffee.

His nose catches a whiff of an over-sized tray with all sorts of goodies on it, inbound to some couple - no - one very hungry man. Looking like he's off to work outdoors after his breakfast. Fuckin' A. Hard not to get hungry with that much food passing right under your nose. Good food. Though anything that doesn't come from the frozen section might as well be class-A-gourmet. Tristan takes another longing smell, hoping to narrow down his own choice. And. He catches a whiff of something off-menu.

Wolf. This fucking guy is, what, one of the People? He seems harmless enough, looking over a crossword. Still, best to be cautious. Tristan takes a taste of his coffee. Adequate. Hot. Even though meeting Sacramento's Uratha might be interesting, definitely necessary... the officer isn't about to invite himself to someone else's breakfast.

[Kid]

Kid looks up when the cop walks in, unconcerned. He's had run-ins with the law before. But today he's just another paying customer.

Anyway, here comes his grub. Oh hell yes, he thinks. Kid shoves the paper aside to make room for the multiple plates the waitress is delivering. He gives the woman a wink and says "Thank you, ma'am. And more coffee when you get a chance?" Her only answer is a grunt before she walks away.

Kid picks up his fork and knife, eyes on his food. And now for my next trick, ladies and gentlemen, watch me make all this here disappear...

But then, his nose twitches, visibly. That scent...

Wolf.

The Cahalith looks up from his plate, meets the cop's eye. Holds it for a long moment, unflinching. And then a warm smile transforms his features, open, inviting.

"Well shit, officer. I didn't even recognize you over there. Come on and have a seat," Kid calls out in his charming, southern accent. Sounding for all the world like they're not just acquaintances, but old friends. He waves the guy over, fork still in his grip. The waitstaff glances up, maybe a little annoyed, but gets back to work quickly enough.

  Hey Buddy! 1 suxx

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2017-09-24 16:53:33		Kid rolls 6 to Pres3 + Socialize2 + 1Distinctive Voice (10 Again)		4, 3, 3, 4, 10, 6, 1		1 success

Well, well...Let's just see what we're dealing with here... Kid thinks. If this cop is one of the People, then Kid'll order him a plate on his own dime. If he's one of the Pure, then Kid figures he'll serve him something else...

[Tristan Hardt]

Their eyes meet. Star-struck destiny is sure as shit isn't, but now there's an opening. A window to learn more. And the guy sure is friendly. Maybe even likable. At a loss for anything to say, at least to the Uratha, Tristan grabs his coffee cup and stands.

"Guess I'm joining my friend, here."

So he sits. Eyes the man across from him, expectantly. The guy had been the one to break the ice. Now, he can start talking. Tristan might not have all day, but the look on his face says he'll wait as long as it takes.

[Kid]

Kid is already forking eggs into his mouth by the time Tristan's sitting down. Smiling around his mouthful, happy as a clam.

"Well, I'll be. Fancy meeting you here. How you been? Look like shit, no offense. Sleepin' OK?" He gives the cop a wink. And there's a beat in his little song-and-dance, long enough for the other Wolf to reply before Kid is signaling him to lean in with a little come hither waggle of his fork. "Listen, I got something hilarious to tell you."

Whether Tristan complies or not, Kid leans right over his breakfast and begins to whisper, the words coming fast and liquid, coated in his southern accent. He's smiling the whole time and cutting his eyes, as if he's telling his friend a dirty joke or a juicy secret. The waitstaff is all in the kitchen. And the other diners are way up front by the door.

"Now listen here, before you and I get to all the 'how d'ya do's' and 'how long you been in town's' and all that other happy crap, I just wanna get one thing out of the way. See, I'm one of the People. And if you are too, that's fuckin' great. I'll buy you a plate of eggs and we can jaw all mornin'. The more the merrier. But if you ain't, if you're one of Them. Well, I'll do my got-damnedest to take you apart. Die tryin', no shit. You read me?"

With that, Kid leans back, still smiling, looking pleased as punch. He shovels another bite of eggs into his mouth.

"So what's the verdict, Partner?" He asks again at full volume, his voice warm.

[Tristan Hardt]

"None taken. But I think you know the answer to that."

Again, the stranger beckons. And, again, Tristan plays along. Even if this is some crazy Bale Hound ready to stick a fork in Tristan's face... it would heal. The Elodoth sets down his cup before leaning in. Just in case.

Though this little secret he shares is... well, good enough. The kid kinda grows on you. Tristan pegs him for a late-twenties type. Or maybe it's just his attitude. Hell, like he doesn't have a care in the world. Aside from - apparently - defending his turf to the death against the Pure. Without answering outright, Tristan gives him what he hopes will speak for itself. Like the guy said: being one of the People gets him free breakfast.

"I can't find a good reason to turn you down on that. I'm not much of a cook. Get breakfast at places like this whenever I can. Sorry, I... forgot your name." Which is the best cover he can think of on the spot. The guy's already spun some ruse about them being acquaintances, after all. "Oh, and you don't have to call me officer here. Tristan's fine."

[Kid]

Kid gets the message and looks pleased. He takes a magnanimous bite of toast. If this Tristan is lying, he'll find out soon enough.

"Hell, that's good enough for me. You want what I'm havin'? How do you like your eggs? You a bacon man or a sausage man?"

He gives the cop a lop-sided grin. "Forgot my name, huh? I'm hurt." He's letting the bullshit show a little now. Just for the fun of it. "Call me Kid. Just Kid." He hadn't been called anything else for a long time. "Pleasure to meet you, Tristan." A pause. "Meet you again, I mean."

Long sip off his coffee and then: "So, where you been? Just get into town? Or that good at hidin'? 'Cause me and my...friends we been lookin' real hard. Checkin' the place out. And, well...'sides us you're the first." He's chewing on some hashbrowns now. A real eating machine, this one. And he doesn't mind talking with his mouth full, either: "We're pretty green 'round here ourselves..."

[Tristan Hardt]

"Sure. Over-easy. So I can..." he mimes wiping the yolk off the non-existent plate with an equally fictitious piece of toast. "And, uh, bacon." Anyone else might have cracked a joke about not being a 'sausage-man'. Though if Kid were hoping for humor, Tristan offers none.

Kid - as the Elodoth guesses he's calling him now - breaks the charade a little. Better if he let it go altogether. Maybe the two could enjoy their breakfast then. But no: the act comes back up, and Tristan has to continue to play along. It's one thing to leave certain information out of a conversation - for the Herd's sake - but acting? For an audience? Fuck.

"Yeah. Just moved. Moved, uh, back. From Elk Grove. Found a little one-story on the south side." He pulls from his coffee again, frowning. All business again for a moment. "Your friends... all new here too? Seems like too big a city for..." And he loses the confidence again. Another weak cover. "...such a new group. Figure you woulda found more by now."

He hides behind his coffee, trying to make sense of it all. Even Elk Grove had a history. Tribes. Someone to keep watch. Sacramento's in deep shit.

"Guess it'll be good to meet your friends. Share interests."

[Kid]

Kid slurps down more coffee before responding: "Oh yeah, got it."

He cranes his head around and spots the waitress from earlier. She's just emerged from the kitchen.

"Can we get another triple triple triple here?" He calls out to her, as if he owns the place. "Eggs over easy. Bacon. Oh, and more coffee too?" She shoots him daggers with her eyes and he gives her a winning grin in return, finishing with a sing-song "Thank you, ma'am." Like a child who knows he's being annoying, but doesn't really care. Indeed, she scribbles the order down and takes it back to the kitchen window.

"Anyway," working on the pancakes now, "yeah, yeah. We all showed up, few months back. No real...community to speak of. Which," he shrugs, chewing away, "ain't right, you know? Though it makes stakin' a claim easy enough." A beat. "For sure, for sure. They'll want to meet you too. Like I said before, the more the merrier."

Those blue eyes are both friendly and discerning, it's like Kid's openness is a method of investigation. If he doesn't hide anything himself, it's harder for others to hide things from him.

"So what's your deal, Tristan? What brings you out this way? Me? I'm just shy of a full moon, you know? And a Hunter. That's how I live my life. Rolled into town after being on the road for too long. Figured it was time to settle down."

[Tristan Hardt]

Kid sure has an appetite. Tearing into his food with that same devil-may-care attitude. Must be nice to live in his world...

"Sure. And. Thanks for breakfast."

Tristan can't help but think that Kid'd make a hell of an investigator. Just worms his way into people's hearts, right? Hell of a useful skill, at any rate. Could really use a guy like that on his team.

So a Cahalith. The outdoorsy type, too. Hell, someone has to be. "Well, for me, I guess the glass is both half empty and half full. Never quite decided which. Maybe that's what drives me. As a cop. To look in places you wouldn't expect. My uncle - crazy bastard - would talk to Shadows. Guess he taught me a lot too."