Re: Selina C/Jack P: the (bad) diner
Cat would never be small town, and she wasn't trying to be. Certainly, part of her was trying to fit in, to become part of the quirky little population that called Repose home. But she couldn't pass for anything but city. Even without her accent - Russian or Jersey - she didn't think small, and she didn't move small, and that wasn't likely to change as a result of geography.
"You consider it, but here you are." She used her toast to motion around them. "Some advice? If you want to make a change? Make it. If you put it off, years go by, and you're still in the same place, doing the same thing." Words of wisdom, and she chased them with some more of that coffee, with the full knowledge that a fresh pot would be on before she finished the dregs.
He talked about morals, souls, and newspaper men; she scoffed. "Whatever happened to telling the truth? Or are you one of those men looking to get big on a tell-all." She tsked, and the fresh coffee was set in front of her. "There are two different kinds of newspaper men. The ones who think they're telling the truth, opening the eyes of the regular citizen. And then there's the kind of newspaper man that would sell his mother for a story." She took the last bite of her piece of toast. "I don't think I need to ask which kind you are."
Second piece of toast between her fingers. "I never said I was immoral." Innocently. "Did I?" Her grin was teasing, and she hadn't said that at all. It wasn't even clear if she really didn't like morality in others. Stay on your toes, newspaperman. "There's a correlation between morality and candy canes? Oh, do enlighten me."