"I think if you've lived anywhere for a while, you end up finding one of those places," he said, grinning faintly. His hometown had had a diner just like this one, San Francisco had a bar that boasted the local music scene, and Los Angeles had places that avoided catering to the trendy tourists. "It's not bad around here."
That was partly a lie. Strangely enough, he didn't mind the near-apocalyptic atmosphere or the insanity that seemed to pop up every couple of weeks. That was almost normalcy. The problem he had with the place was the part where nothing he'd worked for carried over. The plans, the reputation, even his bank account, were gone. He felt like he'd been sent back twelve years, where he was a starving law school student working multiple jobs just to buy food. At least here, he didn't have a roommate to worry about.
"A witch. Sorry, I get the terms mixed around sometimes. Different people insist on different terms." Several employed by Wolfram and Hart had gone between Wicca and Witch, finding the latter term "distasteful" because of the connotation that was attached to the word. Historically adapted political correctness. His own teacher hadn't had any problems with identifying herself as a witch and neither did this young woman. That worked in her favor.