Re: Selina C/Jack P: the (bad) diner
Jack had, a handful of years before, been the kind of man who leaned toward women who oozed sex appeal in their wake like expensive perfume, loose smile and easy-handed but those were the years when he had been easy in everything, and good-tempered. Now, more often than not, he was too hungover to play the game, or he was too drunk to think about it but he could appreciate a show as much as any other man and there weren't many better, especially beyond the city's limit.
"Abso-bloody-lutely," all agreement in drawled, flattened syllables, and he hadn't a thought of good deeds conducted under cover of darkness. Jack was too haphazard for planned goodness, and he would have been terrible at knowing what it is that would help in any instance. A war-zone, any day, where you could see the damage and know what you could (or couldn't) do to help. "I can only claim up to a seedy motel in standard on expenses."
An answering smile that was battered, but remained in better shape than the rest of him from the pre-small town days. "No surprises, me." He looked down at his own coffee cup, took a slug, and then looked at her.
"You might want to ask for it fresh. You're more charming than me, you might actually get it."