Re: Good diner: Max and Gwen
"I don't think I should have coffee. The effect of caffeine on the body is only marginally understood, despite mass consumption and acceptance as a non-harmful indigestible drug," Gwen said as she moved forward on those squeaky sneakers. She climbed up onto a stool at the counter, one knee on the stool's flat surface, and heel against her bottom. It was a decidedly young way to sit, but she was still young enough that such things were, she thought, acceptable. It wasn't like she thought about absolutely everything before she did it, but she did consider the appropriateness of some actions. Climbing onto the stool seemed to be the appropriate behavior, given the setting, the audience, and her own age. And (kind of) she just wanted to climb up onto something, instead of sitting with mature sedateness, as was required during her hours and hours of testing at the lab.
"But I'll take a piece of pie. Sugar's okay, in limited quantities." But she was eyeballing the pie with cornflower eyes that were wide, and she really wasn't super concerned with her blood sugar levels at that particular moment. "Are you the proprietor?" She frowned at herself. "Owner? Are you the owner?" She nodded, jut of chin down and bob upward (that sounded better).
Her decision that he was (likely) the owner was based on various tells, including his age, his ease behind the counter, and the lack of visible waitstaff in the diner with him. On television shows, it was always the owner that hung around late at small town stores and restaurants, because keeping staff present for stragglers was economically counterproductive.