Re: Selina C/Jack P: the (bad) diner
Oh, Cat had played the game so long that she was the game, and the game was her. There were moments when the walls went down, but those were few, and they were far between. Normally, everything was an opportunity, a chance to network, even the cook in this rundown diner, and she knew the man made measly pay, and even worse tips from the people who sat at this stained counter.
"It might be time to consider a new line of work." A smile in mossy green, and her cat's-lined eyes were entertained in the morning light. She sipped the cup of coffee that was set before her, and she regarded her unintentional breakfast companion. Oh, not that she minded companionship. Companionship? It was just more of that networking. No, she didn't mind. But she hadn't been expecting it, and she certainly hadn't been expecting it to come in the form of a disenchanted newspaper man.
"The only newspaper people I know? Had morals for days." She grinned, and she sipped again. "I hate that trait in a person. Don't you?" She winked, and it was impossible to know how much of what she was true, and how much of what she said was more of that tongue-in-cheek brand of tease. "And they had to pay for their own apartments."
She flicked burnt edges off her toast, and she took a bite with care not to get crumbs everywhere. Though, you know, that was mostly a losing battle. "I'm fine with it how it is. For what he gets paid? I'm lucky it's even warm." She took another sip of the coffee, and the cook chuckled, and she swiveled on that old stool with cracked vinyl. "I saw you on the forums. Complaining about Christmas, if memory serves. And my memory? Always serves."