Re: Diner: 1AM-ish
Shiloh rather liked the crummy little diner. He'd been raised in a house with a name of its very own, secluded and surrounded by marble and other charity-case sibling that he'd believed were the same as he was. He'd eaten gourmet meals for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He hadn't worked a day during his lifetime. He'd never attended schools, and he'd worn only the highest quality clothing. All of these things, and he found he enjoyed places like these better. The plastic beneath his ass was cracked over the seat, and the utensils resting on the table were scratched from being too often washed. The food tasted terrible, and the soda was always too carbonated. It was perfect.
As for the young man across the table from him, he had truly expected someone older. He'd no true reason why he'd expected that, but he only knew he had. It didn't trouble him to not find an older man seated across from him. Shiloh paid little attention to age. "I think I was quite a lot myself," he admitted of the troubled soul he'd inhabited the night before. He had no lightning scars on his skin, but he had a vast quantity of other scars beneath his clothing that were equally masterful. "I've always been told I needed to eat more. Substantial isn't a word often used in regards to me, not in terms of weight or maturity." His smile said he cared not for these opinions. "And you? Are you very much like your fallen counterpart? Do you seek meaning and believe in Paradise? I'm fairly certain you bleed, should you be inclined to ask me again."
He draped an arm along the seat back, and he sat with an elegance that belied his slouched sprawl on cracked plastic. "Are we exchanging names? This is my first rodeo, as it were, and I have no idea if preserving anonymity is of the utmost importance."