Re: Cass & Alex: the (bad) diner
Cass might have not been sweet, but Alex's coffee would never be found lacking for the same. Three, four, five sugars, emptied out of little white packets and left stacked neatly on the counter. Alex wasn't compulsively neat or anything, he just didn't like to leave a mess for someone else to clean up after him, even if in Cass's case, it was very likely her job to do so. He stirred it with the flimsy flatware spoon, held in pale, nicotine-stained fingers, then set it on top of the stacked wrappers, white paper absorbing brown coffee. He took a sip, and didn't grimace even though it wasn't very good; he was used to terrible coffee.
"I think strange is like salt," he picked up, having thought about what she said while he'd waited for her to return with the coffee. "'cause I thought maybe like," he said, having worked out his own interpretation, "you need a little, to flavor things. Make 'em better. But too much an' it's, uh, too much, y'know?" He liked talking with Cass, despite his earlier discomfort with her knowing who he was, though she likely shouldn't have. "But I dunno. This place is kinda strange," he went on, not meaning the diner. "But." He shrugged. "It's the kinda strange I get along with." Genuine Repose Fuckery: Alex, like it or not, fit right in. He held the coffee cup in both hands, leaning his elbows on the table in front of him. Fingers a little too short and stubby to be considered either elegant or delicate wrapped around the ceramic. "D'you like it here?"