Nick didn't know much about Sasha except that she liked to drape over the booth seats and picked an argument about whether or not it was OK. (It wasn't, but he figured that was now clear). Ally, maybe. Maybe fireworks for everyone in the vicinity if the town lit up like the Fourth of July. He grinned briefly at the thought.
"New town rules," he said solemnly, resisting her grab for the coffee pot and instead refilled her mug with another stream of oily black liquid. There wasn't nothing sweet about dropping the shit with the chair. It was his, same way now as a limb, and you didn't see nobody demanding that they got to tweak that or nothing.
"You gonna order for real, or I got to go tell the chef you got a problem with how he puts together a burger?"