Okay so Jamie wasn't super familiar with the free-food buffet as what stood between you and famine. He had eaten enough cheap ramen and at greasy all-you-can-eat stops with the rest of the corps to get familiar with the kind of food but not the roll-over-and-yawn of a stomach in miserable free-fall because you couldn't afford it. He sliced his omelette into precisely square bites, and forked up the limp lettuce on the side instead of diving right in.
"Old rich people, young rich people. It's like plastic flamingos in Florida, ubiquitous." Jamie flashed a grin: pearly whites and satisfaction with his own weak joke. Yeah okay, he got that Sid here probably didn't know his dessert fork from his regular and he ate most impressively fast. His family was weird and Sid was on the end of the scale that was normal, if normal was Jerry Springer on TV and plastic food nuked in the microwave. Jamie had heard a lot about that kind of childhood in the studios.
"Ah, my friend," Jamie waved his fork for emphasis, "Also in the better diner: half the seniors who come to the Rec Center for ballet. So I'll skip the senator, because mid-murder half my students would walk. And then, then I could not pay the electric bill." He was exaggerating, but god, the hash-browns looked incredible.
"My ass? Yeah, it likes to get around. Never made an appointment for it yet, but it gets where it wants to go."