[ the buzz never lasts, not even from the hardest stuff. she bounces from seedy bar to seedy bar all night, savoring the inebriation while it lasts, and it's on her last wave of it that she decides she's actually hungry for something besides dry cereal or whatever else she happens to have in her kitchen. dressed in dressed and a leather jacket and boots, scarf wrapped around her neck, she steps into the denny's with the thought to get her food to go. there's a pile of paperwork sitting on her desk next to her computer, and without malcolm and trish, things have been decidedly more difficult at alias.
then she sees him. it's hard not to, no matter how much the goddamn punisher tries to hard under layers and baseball caps. jessica should just leave him alone, like she's left everything alone, but it's impossible for her being who she is to not stick her nose where it doesn't belong.
the steadiness in her steps is impressive, for the amount of booze she's had tonight, and she makes a beeline from the vacant hostess podium to castle's booth by the window. ]
[ Why anyone in this world wants to try and pretend life's still like it was, he can't imagine. He gets wanting to rebuild-- they all want to rebuild, to carve out some little safe place to do more than hang on by a thread-- but everything's different. People who care about the lawn getting cut and keep storefronts open?
It creeps him the hell out.
Still, they're guests in this creepy faux-suburb and that means playing nice, or at least nice enough to avoid sticking out like a sore thumb. He's doing the best he can, considering he still expects someone's going to try to murder them any minute.
It's really weird. The inside of the diner looks so normal, you could forget the world ended, if you didn't still have congealed blood on your boots.
[ The look she gives Wade as he slides into her booth is all sorts of put-upon. There's a giant stack of pancakes in front of her, and if it's not one thing, it's that she does not take to people helping themselves to her plate. ]
[3 AM, the end of a slow night on patrol, and the acceptance of a shared craving for gross breakfast food have brought them here. The coffee's a little burned, but Cass can't even care right now as she glances over the menu. Thank god it's got pictures.]
[he's content, for now, to lazily slump along the booth across from her, cigarette butts beside him in an empty Styrofoam cup.]
If all anonymous sources met in places like this, I think they world would be a better place. Though they might be fucked over by all the clogged arteries...
Not a babysitter. Frank Castle didn't do that. He didn't care about other people, sociopaths like him never do. That was part of the definition, right? He just walked around, leaving a trail of dead bodies in his wake.
He didn't babysit. Especially not certain lawyers who ran around at night wearing little horny helmets. Horned helmets, hats, whatever. He had better things to do like...
Sitting in a booth at the far end in the middle of the night with said person he didn't babysit. But everybody had to eat and Denny's was just as good as any other place. It had nothing to do with the fact that Matt didn't look too well these days, and Frank didn't mean the bruises, or not-limping. The little Catholic boy looked more and more lacklustre these days, coat was getting duller, too.
"Geez, Red, just order extra fries and quit stealing mine already." Every time. Every fucking time that asshole refused to order extra 'cos he 'wasn't that hungry' and then stole Frank's and the soldier wasn't taking it lying down any longer.
[meanwhile, scout has indeed ordered a grand slam. actually like, three of them. he's yakking on at spy about some stupid story that makes him look really cool and is likely exaggerated or a full-out lie, then pauses mid-chew of a pancake:]
She shone his bat signal into the night sky and, well. Angel being Angel, he came running. He wasn't sure if he'd find her on her bender or if she was feeling better and not straying too far from the straight and narrow, so there was a cautious look in his eyes when he skulked into the diner silently with his head lowered.
Managing to keep a straight face despite the nauseating smells that hit him as soon as he opened the door, he slipped into her booth and studied her face.
"Hey. Is everything okay?" Because you know, what is a social call?
He didn't think he'd ever see her again after they left that idyllic town that was trying to kill them but here they were. Silently he's praying to all the gods he doesn't believe in that she takes his word for it that he'd already eaten and doesn't insist on him ordering any food.
"So uhm..." He ducks his head a little and keeps his gaze fixated on the salt and pepper, intertwining his fingers and wiggling his butt further back into the bench.
"You look well." He can tell without looking at her. Clearly he hasn't gotten any less awkward after those near death experiences.
[ There are way too many options here for poor Chitanda's taste.
What was originally going to be nothing more than a quick stop for breakfast was quickly turning into an exercise in futility as the girl sitting across from Satoshi hums and haws; the pout on her face and her puffed out cheeks are more or less obscured by the oversized menu she's holding in front of her. For what must be about the seventh time, Chitanda flips through plastic-covered pages, fidgeting with the corners as her bright eyes run over each combo meal, and all the possible sides.
She can build her own Grand Slam, certainly; the classic choice, tried and true. Having free reign over which four items she gets, though, proves to be far more pressure than she would like to deal with right now, and she quickly turns her attention to the next-most appealing item: the fabled French Toast Slam, in all its syrupy glory, definitely seems to fit the bill. Two eggs, sunny-side up, with crispy bacon, sizzling to perfection, and a few sausage links, just to seal the deal...there's not a bad thing about it, if one's perfectly candid.
But just as she deliberates on that for too long, she furiously flips the menu just a few pages over. As fulfilling as the French Toast Slam sounds on paper, can it really hold a candle to the infamous Moons Over My Hammy (Trademark), helpfully marked with a cute little star next to it to indicate that the breakfast sandwich is, indeed, a Denny's Fan Favorite. The eggs are scrambled, this time; the perfect compliment to a generous helping of ham and American cheese, wedged just so between two lightly toasted slices of sourdough bread...ah, it sounds excellent, and she's so curious, but, ah, one page over, staring her in the face, it's...
Duo: A Space Kerfuffles Story Inspired Menu, part of a promotion for an upcoming hit sci-fi movie, with special limited-time menu items like the Large Hadron Collider Pancake Breakfast, and the Laser Pistol Burger...sure, she didn't particularly come to Denny's in the mood for a burger, but if it's only here for a few weeks at most, then she might miss her chance to eat it before it's possibly gone forever, and it all just sounds so...so...
She's curious! She can't stop thinking about it! Everything sounds so delicious, but there's no possible way she can eat it all! And the more time passes, the more frustrated Chitanda becomes, before she finally vents her frustrations with a defeated-- ]
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