Dan was there on time because, well, where else did he have to be? Besides dead. He wasn't keen on going back to that, and trying to find his way in a town that did more than defy physics was also strange - he didn't have night shifts here, didn't have his shitty apartment and the fact that he was watching every dime. Everything was free. No currency. He imagined most people had trouble getting used to that idea at first.
But coffee, coffee he knew - it was another vice that he could actually partake in, since he'd given up alcohol and drugs. He wasn't particularly picky; most of the time he was fine with the instant muck, something chugged at work from a styrofoam cup, the coffee form of depression with no smiles. But the shop here seemed fancier - decent beans, freshly brewed, actual half and half. He'd just ordered a cup, watching the ripples of cream spread toward the rim, when Richie appeared.
"Biggest fan, right," Dan chuckled, and he was too polite to point out the only fan part, hip leaning against the counter. "Where do you want to sit, favorite celebrity?"