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06 December 2005 @ 12:25 pm
Madness Takes Its Toll  
Breakfast is awkward. We find a diner easily enough and the place seems to be the epitome of a sleepy middle-of-nowhere town. A few appraising looks and some ‘we don’t get many strangers round here’ comments are thrown at us and I find myself biting back the comment that maybe if they gave the place a lick of paint more than once a century they might get more passing trade. Instead I nod and smile and wish that waitress would get here with the coffee before this day gets any odder.

Faith seems not to notice, guess she’s always been a drifter in a way, she slides into the booth and studies the wipe-clean menu as if it’s got the answer to life, the universe and everything printed on it.

She notices me watching her and puts the menu down. Leaning back she cocks her head to one side and grins, “Enjoyin’ the view?”
I don’t smile, I keep my expression neutral and deliberately keep my gaze locked with hers. “I’ve seen better.”
faith_misplaced on December 6th, 2005 12:54 pm (UTC)
Never really got the term 'skittish' before, always seemed like something that was used in books when the writer had already used up their allowance of the word 'nervous'. Looking at Lindsey though, now I understand it. Nervous doesn't cover it, he's not frightened, he's just... skittish.

Teasing him like I did when he woke up probably wasn't the best idea I've ever had, but damn if it didn't show me another side to him. Up till then I'd been tagging along because I didn't have anything better to do right then, and because Angel gave the good word.

Didn't necessarily think Linds was on the level - 'fact I was pretty damned sure he'd turn on me quicker'n a snake if he could - but now? I think I can maybe see myself trusting him.

He's looking around the crappy diner as if he's expecting assassins to come jumping out of every shadow so I go for the nonchalant approach. This place isn't so different from every other crappy Mom 'n' Pop diner on the road and lord knows I've seen plenty of them in my time. Hell, had more than my share of Christmas dinner's sitting on stools just like the ones they got here.

I pick up the menu, yup, exactly the same as every other diner. It's like they mass-produce the damn things and just change the name on the front. I can feel his eyes on me and look up.
Enjoyin' the view?
I've seen better

Dammit if he doesn't keep a straight face when he says it. He's good. Me? I laugh - it's funny, there's no point trying to hide it.

The waitress comes up and pours the coffee with a smile and a scripted "what can I get you folks?" I pick up the menu again and am about to answer when something triggers one of those Slayer reactions in me. Something's just not... right.

I look at the waitress - older woman, in her fifties at least - probably Mom - red and white gingham dress with the spotless washed-too-often off-white apron over the top. Ada's her name according to the faded badge over her left breast. Not setting off any demonic radars in me but that kind of things never been all that reliable.

She doesn't feel dangerous though - just not... right.

"Blueberry pancakes." I reply, still scanning the room for whatever it is that's got me on alert.
lost_lawyer on December 6th, 2005 01:33 pm (UTC)
There's a sudden switch in her attitude as the waitress speaks. She's on edge, scanning the place for threats and dammit if that doesn't make me nervous. I'm about to stand, make a run for it, but she orders breakfast. I frown a little but hide it before the waitress - Ada - turns for my order. I take a good look at her, human, early fifties, hair going slightly gray giving her the 'salt and pepper' look. Nothing particularly threatening about her but I know from experience that that doesn't mean much. I follow Faith's lead and order what she's having. As Ada walks away scribbling on hre pad I turn to Faith.

"What's wrong?"
faith_misplaced on December 6th, 2005 01:57 pm (UTC)
I scan the room, couple of good ol' boys at the counter tucking into their eggs and not paying attention to anything much other than what's right in front of them, Ada steps in behind the counter, posts our order on the carousel and hits the bell at the hatch. A man leans out from the kitchen - older man, and from the way he smiles at Ada I'm guessing this is Pop - everyone seems harmless.

No one thing is setting off any alarm bells - it's every thing.

"Not sure. Nothing immediate though, just... don't get too relaxed."

Like that's possible.
lost_lawyer on December 7th, 2005 12:45 pm (UTC)
I can't stop the snort of laughter that escapes - relaxed? Here?

"Not going to be a problem" I say as I look around the place, really taking it all in.

Nothing's startlingly out of place, just your average diner in a sleepy little town away from the main traffic routes - which is the reason I came through this way. Place is a bit cleaner than some I've seen, the formica table tops are a little newer and the fake red leather benches are a little tidier, but that's about it.

My gaze tracks over to the counter where two older men are eating breakfast. One has a newspaper spread out in front of him and I tilt my head to catch the stories. I'm too far away though and all I can see is black on white.

I start to let my gaze drift onwards when he apparently finishes reading and lifts the paper to fold it. The headline catches my eye and I'm out of my seat like a shot.

I can hear Faith start to follow but I'm too focused on proving to myself I didn't just see what I think I did.

"Can I borrow this?" I manage to ask as I reach for the paper. The geezer nods and says something about it all being nonsense anyway.

I turn back and see Faith standing poised for action.

"Look at this." I say as I hold up the front page.
faith_misplaced on December 7th, 2005 12:59 pm (UTC)
Damn he moves fast! He's almost made it to the counter before I get on my feet. I stop myself from lunging forward on the attack as he picks up the discarded newspaper and mumbles something to the good ol'boy.

He's actually shaking as he holds it up for me to read. I glance at it quickly, half expecting to see my own face staring back at me with a "Wanted, Dead" notice under it - either that or his face - but no. It's some nonsense UFO sighting story, the kind that crops up every day it seems.

I frown at him, "What?"

He gestures at the paper again and this time I read the headline out loud. "RAAF Captures Flying Saucer On Ranch In Roswell Region. So?"

He grabs for my arm and heads back to the table. I look down at his fingers curled around my elbow and decide to let it go - this time. As I sit down he thrusts the paper at me again and hisses, "Look at the date."

I'm starting to think he's lost it completely but to humour him I take a closer look.

July 8th. 1947.

"What the fuck?"