His weakness was a streak a mile wide and lit up neon, as far as Nick could tell, with all the pulling and twisting the kids who worked his place went at it. It was the kind of weakness that he hadn't looked back on when he'd walked it off because you did something active, something real to course-correct the way things were rattling down the tracks towards the shit or you moved the hell out of the way. Nick, he wasn't moving so fast so he got a long-ass look at what was along the way.
Ronan was still working whatever the hell showed up on the schedule and more besides. Gwen, Nick didn't worry or nothing about Gwen getting into the kind of trouble that couldn't be gotten out of but he watched her shifts and lined em up against the late-night crowd. He hadn't forgotten the guy who had loomed out of late night sweat and the bang of the trailer-park doors to leer down Destiny's neck in his own damn diner.
So it didn't matter how much Destiny fluffed her hair, that was one kind of weakness that wasn't there to play, broken string on an old guitar and a real strong one getting a workout despite. Nick watched her sail in, shoulders square like she was gearing up to punch somebody and he wheeled out from behind the counter to take in the prize-fight.
"Going somewhere purposeful like that, someone might think you want something," he suggested. "You in for toast? Where's the maverick?"