He chooses a run down diner, not far from where they picked him up. Not what she would have chosen, obviously–she would have taken advantage of a free meal and chosen a more expensive place–but it makes sense. It’s smart.
No doubt, from the way he nods and waves at the waitresses, the cook, this is a place he’s familiar with. A place he feels safe. This is his turf, and even if she’s the one with the money and power, well, that doesn’t mean anything here.
They choose a booth, the table surface yellowed and the cushioned seats flattened and crack with age, but still clean. Rupert makes her slide in first, so that he ends up between her and the rest of the restaurant. Not that it’s crowded–besides their little party of three are two single customers a few stools away from each other at the bar, and a family of four on the other side of the room.
“Georgia,” the man calls out to the waitress currently topping off someone else’s coffee. She abandons that venture quickly, to the dismay of the customer, and briskly makes her way towards their table. The name tag on her apron says Betty.
“Your usual, hon?” She asks him fondly, face folded with wrinkles and smile lines.
The man smiles back, a broad, sideways smile that she congratulates herself for, “Not today, Georgia, this fine lady has offered to pay for the meal.”
“So the Bobby Special, then,” Georgia replies, before turning on her and Rupert with a barely concealed glare. “And you?”
“Just coffee for me, ma’am,” Rupert says meekly, not making eye contact.
In contrast, she feels no shame in matching Georgia’s gaze and asking for pancakes. Maybe that startles Georgia enough for her to leave, or maybe she’s just gone off to tell the cook to spit in her pancakes, but the waitress leaves the three of them at their table.
“So you wanted to talk?” The man says, and she really should ask for his name. Or a name, seeing as how she doubt he’ll give his real one.
“You can call me Terry,” he says with a shrug, “Actually, you can call me whatever depending on how much you pay.”
“I’ll go with Terry. I’m Zoe,” she says, “Now. Let’s talk business.”
A/N: Okay, Day 2 of getting home ridiculously late, but I didn’t want to have another Missed Post so I just slapped this together super quick. This is a continuation of the day before yesterday’s untitled drabble.
Sorry it’s not Ain’t No Rest.