NOT another cup of coffee at Denny's, that's for sure

[socksmageddon]

It's late. Like, 3 AM late. You're hungry as fuck, but nothing is open.



Except Denny's.

RULES

1. Post to the meme.
2. Find somebody to eat with. Figure out why the hell you'd do this to yourself.
3. I don't think they have the Hobbit menu anymore, fuck. Maybe you should ask the waiter or something.

Comments

marc spector/steven grant | mcu (moon knight) | ota!

[disassociating]

[Steven can be found looking like he's about to faceplant into his plate of hash browns and start snoring, but he will latch onto any possible social interaction with the fervor of a man clearly, desperately trying to avoid the sleep he very much needs. He's already annoyed the Denny's sole working staff into avoiding his table with excessive small talk, so he has resorted to turning to cheerfully greet anyone who is foolish enough to shuffle themselves into any adjacent table.]

OR
[Marc is a whole lot less friendly looking, but he does have a full pot of coffee sitting at his table, still steaming invitingly like it's begging to be shared, and the waitress is visibly otherwise occupied through one of the windows taking her break in the parking lot so she can smoke.]

[rockyraccoon]

[ Yea, he doesn't know what the hell to make of this guy lookin' like he's ready to keel over any second. He's sure the guy won't know what to make of Rocket. Seems kinda sheltered. Polite, though. Like a puppy. ]

Sling me some of those hash browns and I'll sit with ya for awhile.

[disassociating]

[He's absolutely gotta be hallucinating this, right? Because the second Rocket comes through the door Steven tries pinching himself inconspicuously on the back of the hand and it really hurts, so clearly he's not dreaming. He even scrubs at his eyes with his knuckles, but that also doesn't change the talking racoon into anything other than what he appeared to be at first glance so he decides, you know what? This might as well happen.

(He's got tiny little clothes on! He looks quite smart, doesn't he? Steven just barely tamps down on the urge to coo.)]

Yeah alright, thanks mate. [He really does sound relieved, like Rocket is doing him a huge favor. He fishes the clean, untouched spoon out of his little napkin wrapped bundle of silverware and scoops a healthy pile of the hash browns onto the side plate that a couple pancakes had originally come on, and scoots it across the table for Rocket with the world's most tired smile.] It's vegan, hope that's not a problem. [So no bacon or butter, sorry pal.]

[mywinterstorm]

[...the fuck? Bucky hasn't seen the waitress anywhere since the last time she refilled his mug almost ten minutes ago. Not that they should have only one girl working the floor in the first place. Or just one cook. It doesn't matter if it's a slow shift; it just rubs him the wrong way.

Then again, Bucky's also grateful to have a place to be able to sit in and eat. Ordering food for delivery has its place, but it can't compare to the ambience of actually sitting and eating in a restaurant. Even if the waitress is currently--

Oh, what the fuck? He just now spotted her for the first time in almost ten minutes. Outside. Smoking a cigarette and messing around on her phone. This place is most definitely understaffed.

Bucky gets up and walks over to the guy currently hogging all the coffee.]

Hey, pal. Mind if I refill my cup? Our waitress seems to've disappeared.

[disassociating]

[Marc doesn't usually go for this much coffee (at least not this kind of brew, after being spoiled by Egyptian coffee), but he absolutely has to stay caffeinated until his job here is done because having Steven wake up in America again is just a whole mess that he doesn't want to try and deal with. Better to spend a night guzzling tar at Denny's, in his opinion, so here he is.

He looks Bucky up and down when he approaches, and apparently decides he's fine with what he sees because he gestures casually to the steaming pot and the empty seat. Maybe talking to someone will make Khonshu stop popping in every few minutes to complain about all the progress Marc isn't currently making.] Sure, knock yourself out. [He glances out the window to the waitress, honestly surprised she hasn't just walked yet.] I think she's the only one who showed up today. [Steven would have done the normal thing and just asked her about it, but he's Marc so he stuck to grunting out his order instead of taking up any more of her time than absolutely necessary.] Or maybe they always staff like this. Could be worse, could be a Waffle House.

[mywinterstorm]

[Well, Bucky does usually go for this much coffee. It's how much it takes to have any kind of effect on him. But even back before the serum, he still probably drank too much of it. Just not as much as he does now.] Thanks. Appreciate it.

[He pours himself a cup of coffee and sits down.] Yeah? How could their staffing issues be worse than this?

[disassociating]

[Marc snorts into his cup of coffee, amusement crinkling at the corners of his eyes.] You've never been to a Waffle House, I take it. [Where to even start with stories about that place?] I don't know that I've ever visited and not witnessed a fight. Usually between the workers and the customers. [Which, honestly, he wouldn't be totally against right now. At least the adrenaline would keep him going for awhile.

Alas.] So, any reason for the all-nighter?

dealer's choice re: personality.

[nekipas]

So.

[ hades drops herself into the seat opposite him, and she's nearly slouching before her ass touches the uncomfortable booth. bags under her eyes, hair's mussed up, moving with the exaggerated precision of somebody who's just on the wrong side of tipsy. she's got a glass of something dark and carbonated in her hand, spiked with way too much whiskey. ]

How's birdbrain doing these days?

[disassociating]

[Marc visibly startles at the question (and, okay, also just her presence in general), having been previously way too absorbed in his french fries considering they're barely more than lukewarm by now, and that they weren't that good even when fresh. Birdbrain can only mean one thing, and it can't possibly be good news that someone even knows to ask: for a moment it seems like Marc is strongly debating bolting, but apparently he decides that that feels a bit drastic, given the casual air with which she's asking.

So warily, he casts around for old birdbrain himself, but Khonshu is conveniently nowhere to be seen. Great. That could mean anything (but really he's probably just too embarrassed to show his bony face.) Marc puts his fry down from where it'd been hovering halfway to his mouth since she arrived.]

Who wants to know? [Sorry, Hades. Marc is not the world's most polite avatar.]

[nekipas]

Me, dumbass.

[ come on, marc, give her a hard one to answer.

hades leans back in her seat, which fucking hurts. she's not like other gods - doesn't get into brawls like thor; doesn't have some stooge running around like khonshu. but slipping back and forth between the underworld and here takes a hell of a lot out of her sometimes, and the haute cuisine that is america's diner only helps so much.

cerberus chooses that moment to lazily wander over from her booth down the aisle, nuzzling against his owner's leg. to most, he just looks like a somewhat oversized husky. but marc's got just enough of the divine sight in him - thanks, birdbrain - that he'll be able to make out two other heads, flickering on this plane like a mirage.

she bends down to scratch cerberus' neck. ]

Hades.

[disassociating]

[Marc doesn't even react to the insult. You gotta get used to gods calling you names if you're going to spend a couple years being haunted by Khonshu.

He does, however, react to the three headed dog by leaning back in his chair with a muttered expletive. Okay so, it isn't like he doubts that gods from the other pantheons exist, but having Cerberus kicking around still just corroborates her claim real fast in the way her face can't because having marble statues in antiquity isn't nearly as recognizable as all of Thor's TV appearances have made him. But she certainly has some powerful PR on her side anyway because even he—otherwise content to figure out the intricacies of Egyptian Mythology only as each new thing right out of it materializes in his life to try and kill him (research is Steven's wheelhouse, not his)—at least learned about the Greek pantheon in elementary school with everyone else. Hard not to know what her name means, and Marc wonders in passing if she's the type to take personally the sheer number of times Khonshu has yanked his corpse back to life with the healing armor.

Probably for the best not to bring it up, either way.]

He's— doing the usual. For himself. I guess. [A glowing review! Unhinged, relentlessly violent, constantly shouting. You know, classic Khonshu.] He didn't piss off the Greek gods or something, did he? [Marc really, really hopes that's not a thing he's about to have to deal with: he is but one comically tired man, and Khonshu seems more than willing to take on the whole universe despite that fact.]

[nekipas]

[ yeah, well, myths get a lot wrong. shit gets distorted after a few hundred years, let alone a few thousand. she doesn’t look divine, not in the inhuman way of khonshu or ammit, and not in the thousand megawatt-smile that thor glistens on camera. rather than ceremonial rags or armor, hades wears surprisingly modern clothes: sturdy boots, dark jeans, dark tank top that exposes her arms, and the tattoos crawling up them. cerberus’ heads, bricks and gears, the branches of a tree on her shoulderblade. she looks tired, worn, like she’s been hit by several cars. ]

Olympians. [ it’s a quick, automatic correction. they don’t think of themselves as greek in particular, just as the ennead aren’t necessarily egyptian. just gods. ] He’s pissed off everybody, but that’s just because he’s an ornery fucking asshole. And that’s coming from me.

[ she knocks back about half of her impromptu jack-and-coke in one go. ]

Tell him I haven’t forgotten about the drachma he owes me.

[foralltimealways]

[Oh no. The poor guy. Mobius was on his way to the counter to ask about hot sauce but this guy who is just so damn exhausted deserves a pause.]

You all right there amigo?

[disassociating]

Oh! [Steven sits up straight and brushes some crumbs off of his busily-pattered button up like he's going to assure this friendly stranger that he's fine, everything is going great, except then he immediately deflates instead. Sorry, Mobius, hope you weren't married to the idea of this exchange being quick or anything.] I've had a bit of a day, if I'm honest. [Does that even mean anything? Minor details, because he's busy gesturing about it with his fork, which has a bit of hash brown on it. The potato falls into his lap and he sighs, defeated.] Have you ever been sleep-walking?

[foralltimealways]

[Jesus. This poor guy. Mobius is what the office affectionally calls a marshmallow (and not so affectionately calls a bleeding heart). Settling in he gestures.]

I have.

[He has not.]

It's kind of terrible. You go to sleep one place, wake up in front of your fridge or in the bathroom at work wondering if it's you or if it's a deadline...

[disassociating]

Yes! Yes. Exactly. [Lap potato forgotten, Steven leans forwarded excitedly, jostling his plate enough that it makes a loud clatter. He promptly apologizes, to the plate. And then just keeps going:] Except I go to sleep in my flat and I wake up across the pond! [He gestures towards the huge windows of the Denny's storefront, as though to indicate how strange it is that they're in America. Surely, Mobius will understand.] Again!

[So, none of that was really similar to anything Mobius said. Listen.]

I just have to stop sleeping. There's nothing else for it, yeah?

[foralltimealways]

Well.

[Across the pond. He wonders how subtly he can pull out his timepad and look up a file on this guy] That does sound like a serious problem, but sleeping or lack thereof is worse. Haven't you ever seen Nightmare on Elm Street?

[He's seen it multiple times including one timeline where Freddy was the hero somehow. Kang only knew how that happened.]

Here. Lemme get you a cup of coffee, and join you if I can...

[He'll just. sit. Without being invited because this is very interesting. Very interesting indeed.]

No dreams?

[swordofathena]

[Diana's just passing by, searching for the waitress to find out where the coffee's gone, but she pauses at Steven's greeting to offer him a small smile.]

Hello.

[...Gods, but he looks exhausted, and that's enough to hook the attention his greeting had loosely snagged. She's at her core an empathetic soul, and anyone clinging this desperately to consciousness rather than taking a room at any one of the nearby roadside motels could probably use a friendly face.]

Do you want some company?

[disassociating]

Yes! Yes, please, I mean. Thank you. [Steven is doing his level best not to squeak. It's just that she is very, wow. Even just sitting still he suddenly feels all thumbs and left feet.

Unfortunately, when in doubt? He babbles.] You know, I just can't seem to pull all nighters like I used to. Two AM and I'm completely knackered, imagine that. Maybe it's all this coffee: it can't be good for the nerves, can it? [Steven is nervous, always. That's no fault of the caffeine, but it would certainly be nice if it were.] Sorry, I— would you like anything? [Look, he woke up with just an absurd amount of American money in his wallet and he's trying not to think about it. Better to spend it on desperation pancakes, surely.]

[swordofathena]

No, I wouldn't wanted to take advantage. You just looked-

[Lost. Like he's been hit by a train.]

-a little lonely. Besides, I think the waitress might have been abducted by aliens.

[Or at least might have decided to hide out in the walk-in freezer for a while.]

What are you working on that has you pulling all-nighters?

[disassociating]

[Steven laughs for a moment, before remembering that actually alien abductions are officially a possibility now. It really has been a crazy decade, hasn't it?] No, do you reckon? I haven't even paid yet. [Why is that what he's worried about?? Honestly.]

Well, not so much anything I'm working on, it's more like something I'm trying to avoid. [He leans forward in his seat a bit, like he's divulging a secret (even though he'll overshare with just about anyone who lingers nearby for too long.)] Have you ever sleep-walked?

choose your own adventure!

[expositus]

[ jessica's got her own pot of coffee that she's slipping a flask out of her pocket to spike with whiskey. her eyes manage to catch that of the person in the next booth and they narrow, as if she's daring him to call her out on what she's doing or call attention to it for the benefit of the staff (who are unlikely to care anyway, but she really doesn't feel like getting thrown out for drinking tonight). ]

ahh jessica! ♥ bless

[disassociating]

[Unfortunately for poor Jessica, she landed with Steven this fine evening, who isn't going to tattle on her but is going to take the eye contact as an invitation for conversation! Rest in pieces.] Hello! Long night, eh? [Surely a particularly torturous 24 hours is the only thing that would possess a person to mix diner coffee and whiskey. Not that Steven would have much of an idea, because he doesn't regularly drink either (but they didn't have hot tea, so desperate times called for desperate caffeine-related measures.)]

back by unpopular demand! ♥ glad you're happy to see her!

[expositus]

[ well, it doesn't seem as if he's gonna rat her out, so that's a couple points in his favor. jessica isn't really sure how much she's up for talking, but upon a closer inspection of the guy it looks like he's a strong wind away from passing out face down in his breakfast platter and is willing to do just about anything to avoid that fate. it's something she can relate to, so after a heavy sigh and a generous slug of her spiked coffee, she sets her mug down and nods to him. ]

And only getting longer. How long have you been at it?

yesss, really hoping D+ gives other Defenders a chance since they're doing daredevil s4 apparently!

[disassociating]

Oh, it has to be... [Steven trails off for a moment, setting down his coffee and then patting at his jacket and pants to try and locate which pocket he last slipped his phone into. Once he retrieves it (and shoots Jessica an apologetic glance), he turns the screen on and then stares at it for a solid dozen seconds longer than anyone should need to, to do the presumably basic math in their head.] That can't be right. Would you believe, 38 hours? [He was not expecting it to be Tuesday already, but that would certainly explain why he feels like the inside of his eyelids are made of sandpaper.] I hope you're not that deep in it. [But he wouldn't be surprised if she was, really, doesn't everyone call this the city that never sleeps?]