Re: [Tandy & Holly: the good diner]
Holly, at this point, kinda expected variance. He'd come to accept the theory that there were countless parallel universes, and that they sometimes only differed in minuscule ways, right? It made as much sense as anything else and, honestly, right now? It was just as likely that he was nuts. Like, talking to Bea had made him doubt his own sanity. He didn't doubt Noah's sanity, which totally helped keep him grounded, but it wasn't as if he had any solid proof or explanation about anything. He had a buzzing in his head, one that had returned full-force, but Travis kinda made everything go wildcard. Because how could Travis be in coma here, but still remember there? If that wasn't an argument for there not existing? Nothing was.
But, okay, beside the point. Right now? He was in the diner, sliding across from Tandy. Tandy, who totally looked just like he did back home. Holly was a big, thick dude, and Tandy had always matched him in height. And, yeah, Tandy had scribbled when no one was looking. Holly, the perpetual brunt of high school bullying, had never questioned why Tandy hid his artistic tendencies. After all, Holly understood than any deviation from the norm could make someone ping on a bully's radar. I mean, Holly couldn't remember a day in his junior and senior year that didn't come with bruises somewhere. So, yeah.
"I don't know, you could always fingerpaint your way to being the next Jackson Pollock. I kinda like those soup can series better, though," he continued, all deadpan hipster, talking like he knew art. Art? Not Holly's thing, but he knew enough about it to drop names and sound knowledgeable in a conversation, which was the hipster way, right? Fake-deep didn't require a lot of details. "I might've watched a Twilight Zone episode or two," he added, you know, way nonchalant, and he almost-smiled when the waitress neared. She asked about Bea, because they always asked after Bea, and he ordered a Coke and fries, and he motioned to Tandy. "What're you having?"