Re: Diner: 1AM-ish
Double negatives were a hallmark of a good Southern gentleman. Not really, but there was something critical to be said of schooling that had focused more on manners than learning. Controversial lessons were eschewed in favor of discourse with potted plants, and grammar was only valuable in certain situations. Shiloh hadn't even come to comprehend his lack until much later in his life, when he realized how much more other people knew of the world than he did. Did that matter as he spread out and slouched across from the boneless man sharing the space with him? It rather didn't. Repose didn't seem much to care about things like grammar or comportment.
He smiled, did Shiloh, and he popped a forkful of hashbrowns past his chapped lips. He nearly swallowed entirely before responding, but this was, again, thoughtless, learned annoyance and not a deliberate attempt at aggravating his dining companion. "I was entirely wrong. The South can't wait for you to arrive. They're preparing a ticker tape parade as we sit here and digest," he said, sarcasm paired with the sort of smile that said he meant nothing and no harm, and the twinkle in his eyes merely served to accentuate that. "Some esteemed members of the Southern police share you affinity for mesh, though, and would not mind pink hair in the slightest."
He considered meaning briefly. "I think this town can't possibly know me well enough to want to teach me something specific. It can't be targeted advertising, as I've not browsed enough for them to know what to hock on my Facebook feed. But perhaps there's a bushel of options somewhere, and we're merely and randomly assigned." He took another forkful. "I have an old friend here. Mal. He runs the electronics shop and refuses to charge me rent," he said of his reason for coming. "What landed you here after your glorious fall?"