"Mutt," John acknowledged with raised brows. He shook his head. It was fitting. The thing did look very much as if it were some kind of strange mongrel mixture. From the way it was attending to her, he had a feeling it'd be prepared to take a bite out of anyone who got too close. John could understand that. Loyalty was valuable no matter where it came from: human or animal or something else entirely. He'd made more than a few friends with something else entirely while doing his time in Hell. Nothing else to do other than find ways to survive; survival was easier with people on his side. John didn't care if they were technically evil. So was he. Technically speaking.
He followed her to the cafe as obediently as Mutt. The comparison was amusing, so was the fact no one blinked at her bringing the damn thing into the place.
"Definitely coffee. I'm a burger and fries kind of guy. My boys---I was never the one who liked sweets. For me? Meat and potatoes. I made good friends with guys named Jack, Jose, and Jim, too. We spent a lot of time together."
John had spent the time they'd been walking sizing her up. She had the moves to make someone comfortable which set him on edge. He wasn't entirely sure he could trust her. There were too many indicators it was a bad call. She was nice looking without actually looking nice. Her looks worked against her in his books. Most people probably took Natasha Romanoff wrong based on her appearance; John had money saying she used the ignorance of others to her advantage every chance she got. Sadly, he was not one of those people. He'd been in the game too long. Even before Hell, John wouldn't have fallen for her casual intimacy. He'd played the hand she held himself more than he'd ever want to admit.
Leaning back into his side of the booth, John decided to go with, "John Winchester. I know all there is to know about being given a second chance or a fresh start. I'm considerirng this a chance at both even though I don't deserve it. You can cross me off your threat matrix list. I won't be causing any problems here so long as no one brings them to my door first. If they do? Well."
He shrugged. John wasn't responsible for the mistakes of others. He was only responsible for himself which was exactly the way he liked his life.
"I figure it's nice to know someone who's got an in with the manager of the local greasy spoon. This is my kind of place. Figure you've already puzzled that out for yourself. Now, for the real round, who else should I know around here? Who's the man behind the curtain and is he from upstairs or down?"