Rendezvous

[Winter]

The bell above the door chimed as another patron pushed through the entrance of the unassuming diner.
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon greeted him, a respite from the cold air outside. The Guardian glanced though the menu, taking in the appearance of the newcomer, studying his movements as he made himself comfortable amid the worn red vinyl booths lining the walls. Not his man.


It's early morning and the diner is still quiet, save for the occasional clattering of dishes from the kitchen and the low murmur of conversation from the few patrons scattered about. He sits in the back, studying the laminated menu from the table, more out of habit than necessity.
As he scanned the familiar options, his eyes flicked again to the door. He's waiting for someone, his fingers drum a beat on the tabletop, his other hand fidgeting with the salt shaker. Anticipation filled his thoughts.

[ReubanBrightwood]

St. George Miliham 48 hour bump

[St. George]

The bell dings as St George steps through into the diner that the text told him to meet at.

Scanning the room with trained precision, his long coat swirls around his legs, briefly the flash of his badge and weapon on his waist are visible. Noting no visible threats, he takes a slower scan looking to see if he can find "Winter". The couple in the booth at the corner definitely wouldn't be them. Slowly he steps into the diner, looking to see if anyone would gesture to him.

[Winter]

He looked up from the menu as the bell chimed once more, his eyes falling upon the newcomer. The flash of a badge and the telltale bulge of a concealed weapon immediately caught his attention.
He studied the man intently, taking in his appearance and demeanor. The long coat, the way he scanned the room with a trained eye - definitely law enforcement or military - Winter's own training had deduced.
Slowly, so as not to draw undue attention, he raised a hand to catch the man's eye. He gestured to the empty seat across from him in the booth. His face remained impassive.
The Guardian leaned back in his seat, one hand resting casually on the table, the other out of sight below.

[St. George]

Seeing the hand gesture to the booth in the back he steps towards the open booth. Reaching the seat, he reaches a hand out to the other man sitting there, "St. George; I take it you're Winter?"

Sliding into the booth he picks up a menu and looks over the generic diner fare before looking over the top.

[Winter]

He nods curtly as he shakes the offered hand, his grip firm and brief. "Indeed. Have a seat, St. George." He keeps his voice low and even, mindful of any potential eavesdroppers in the quiet diner.
As the man settles into the booth and peruses the menu, he leans forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table. "I appreciate you meeting me here. I assume it's for your admission to the club", his eyes flick momentarily to the door and then back to the man across.
"Are you new to the city?"

[Winter]

Winter studies the man, curious about his silence, his expression remaining neutral. He watches as the other man seems more focused on the menu than on the actual meaning of the meeting. Could he be the wrong person? After a beat, Winter speaks again, his voice still low.
He leans back slightly, one hand still resting casually on the table. "It's been a long night", His eyes remain locked on St. George.

[St. George]

"Yes, its about the club." St. George replies, "and I reported to the Precinct this morning. Very interesting city you have here."

St. George gestures toward the waitress and continues on, "I was hoping that we could meet before I checked into the Precinct, just to have a rundown of the area, but everything worked out fine." He hears the other man mention the long night, and his first thought was 'and full of terrors' but he knows that is only because of popular tv. "The night is always long, for sleep comes too easy for too many."

[Winter]

"No rest for the wicked, huh", he says half amused, "the area is quiet, you'll find out that the club is small and most of the time its members keep to themselves, just occasionally meeting by the clubhouse. It used to be a lot more varied, but things have calmed down over the years. Is there any particular reason for moving here, or just life being the way it is?"

[St. George]

Thinking it over to himself for a second St. George finally replies with "Just needed a change of scenery, had to get away from the past. What's the dynamic like in the club? Any major players I should know about?"