When Ares stepped into the food joint, the mood almost immediately changed and the front door hadn't even fully closed yet. If there was a light-hearted atmosphere before, he certainly didn't notice it. The people he walked past seemed a little more 'on edge', a little more wary of each other, of the guy who seemed larger than life, ambling up to the counter, slipping onto the stool.
With one hand partially in his hair, temple against his palm, he was sending a message on his phone with the other hand. He seemed bored, almost unusually calm given how tense and irritable everyone else in the diner had become.
He answered the 'what do you want?' look before the waitress could politely take his order with 'whatever's good'. She wanted to clarify but hesitated, because he seemed like the kind of guy who would have tagged 'and make it quick, bitch' on to the end of his sentence if he was in the mood for it. Instead she scribbled something down on her notepad and shuffled back to the kitchen area, making up an order for him, handing it over to the young chef.