Who: Carter and Kammie.
Where: A diner in town.
When: A little after midday, early afternoon.
There were very few indulgences in Carter’s life, as was the case with most Bennetts, as the case had been for all those who bore the name as far back as everyone could remember. No alcohol, a decent diet, rigorous exercise, and a lifetime commitment to the hunt. Carter had embraced that early on and always respected it but it was his mother who had taught him when he was young that the odd treat was far from bad. If anything it was good to indulge a little every now and then. For him, personally, it had always been particular foods that he allowed himself once in a while and kept his distance from at all other times in order to keep his diet and therefore his health and lifestyle on track.
Since coming to America Carter had learned that there was very little that could beat a good cheeseburger. It was maybe once every couple of months that he allowed himself to have one, if not less, and so when the time came to visit a diner and treat himself a little it made it all the more worthwhile. Absence really did make the heart fonder and as he sat in the diner with the plate in front of him he felt strangely younger in that moment than he had in several months. Carter didn’t know what it was, whether it was the food itself or the remembrance of a memory from years ago when his mother had first taught him the lesson, but the feeling lingered as he worked his way patiently and steadily through the burger and the fries that had come on the side of them.
"Everything okay over here?" the waitress asked as she paused by the side of his table, looking a little hesitant almost as if she expected him to pick up on something wrong after her realisation upon his arrival that he wasn't American.
"Great," he said to her with a polite smile, watching her relax and return the expression, "thank you." With a dip of her head in a nod and the smile still on her face she continued on her way to the kitchen.
It would be several months before he ate like this again. After this meal he would go back to the sorts of foods that kept a body healthy and in fighting form, subconsciously monitoring his intake of fats and sugars and all the things that could slow a hunter down in one way or another. Something like this, a rare treat as it was, ought to be savoured. Sometimes it really was the little things that meant the most and in a life as hazardous and violent as Carter’s that was certainly the case.