Special At Joe S
Special At Joe's
Summary: Post lunch rush at Joe's Diner, several of our intrepid heroes (ha!) converge on the little eatery.
Date: 17 Feb 2008
Related Logs: Of Coffee & Pools
Players:
West..Thorpe..Sabella..Anthony..

Joe's Diner - Main Room
Greasy spoon. That's the easiest way to describe this linoleum tiled, vinyl seat upholstered place. If you've seen one of these diners, you've seen them all. The only thing that really varies in here is the color scheme, slightly, from diner to diner, state to state. Here the scheme is a creamy off white mixed with a slightly burgundy red, which upholsters all of the old fashioned bar stools and booth benches. Always brightly lit, and open 24 hours a day, Joe's Diner is a haven for those who require a good old fashioned cup of coffee, greasy hash browns, or pancakes at any hour of the day.
The wait staff dresses in '50s uniforms. The booths lining the wall look out onto the street through a large plate glass window. The seats at the counter look toward the kitchen. There are pies on the counter, cookies in the back, a register by the door, and people in here at all hours. Often, it's a hangout for off duty cops, fire fighters, and other city employees.


The diner is in it's afternoon throws of people after the big dinner rush. Tables are still filled with dirty dishes as the staff seems to be taking a few moments to regather themselves before cleaning up the tornado of service that just came through. Left to just a few of the regulars at this time, Thorpe is sitting at the counter a cup of coffee and plate with Apple Pie in front of him. Holding a folded newspaper down with his free hand he carefully stabs at the pie with his fork and takes slow bites reading the news. The badge and gun are easily visible on his belt as his jacket is folded on the seat to his right along with portions of the newspaper already conquered in reading.

The diner wasn't the only place that had an unexpected rush. Such being the case, it is just now that Sabella has gotten away from her shop and found the time to come in for a bite to eat. As the bell over the door jingles it's happy tune, she snags a menu off a table on her way to the counter. It is as she slips onto a stool that she flashes a smile at the waitress, the menu closed and tucked into the little metal holder. "A cup of coffee, two blue plate specials and…" A glance down the counter at Thorpe's pie and she grins, adding. "Pie. Ala mode, add whipped cream."

Thorpe glances up from his paper after another bite of the pie. Eyes trail over her a moment then look to the waitress as she heads off on the order. Finally he speaks up after returning to looking at the paper, "Good timing, they always bring out the fresh stuff after the rush." Setting the fork down he picks up his coffee cup and slowly sips the contents.

"So I've found," Sabella answers. Accepting the cup of coffee set before her, she adds cream and a /lot/ of sugar, one elbow resting on the counter top as she stirs it slowly while glancing over at Thorpe. "On the upside, my lunch usually manages to fall right after they've been hit the hardest." Pausing a beat, she sets the spoon aside, her fingers curling around the handle of the cup as she raises it to her lips and takes a sip. "Mind you, I have good timing, regardless."

Anthony arrives from the street.
Anthony has arrived.

The door opens and closes a few times as people come in, and people go out. In and out, the people go. Eventually, West is one of the people wandering in. The sound of her flip flops smacking the bottoms of her feet proceed her entrance as the door opens, then closes right before she gets to it. "Jesus Christ, was that a plague of locusts moving down the street, or did Joe start a new lunch special?" This is said to no one in particular as the 5'3" brunette steps inside the Diner. She heads for the counter, a hand resting over her (6 month) pregnant belly. She's probably just mad because she thinks there wont be any food left.

Thorpe chuckles as he looks up to the waitress with a smile, sliding his mug towards her. She slowly refills it as she comments, "There ya go, Captain. Need anything else?" Thorpe shakes his head towards her and responds, "No. I am fine, thank you." Passing a glance over to Sabella he pulls the coffee towards him by the saucer. Reaching up he lifts it and gently blows on it. Hovering the mug near him he looks back to Sabella, "Well you are pretty lucky to have a good schedule like that. Unfortunately I can't seem to keep that consistent of a schedule." Then the sip of the coffee it taken to test it. Lowering the mug he settles it back on the saucer.

Currently Sabella and Thorpe are sitting at the counter. Thorpe is reading a paper with an apple pie and coffee in front of him, his jacket off to his right on the stool with the remainder of the paper. Sabella has just a cup of coffee at the moment. West is eating scraps on her approach to the Countertop to harass the innocent.

As the door swings shut behind the short, pregnant woman, it's caught by a splay-fingered hand and pushed lightly to swing open once more, permitting a certain scoundrel to come a'sauntering in behind her. "It's Las Vegas," notes Anthony in casual tones as he strolls along in the direction of the counter, a smile twitching to his lips, "If locusts and rains of blood were to start anywhere, well… here'd probably be the most likely place. Our beautiful New Sodom…" A hand half-raises as he nears the counter, gesturing to West and then the waitress behind the counter, noting, "I'll cover whatever you're eating today, beautiful."

"It helps," Sabella notes. "To be your own boss." Of course, it also helps to have enough money that you don't need to work unless you feel like it. Mind you, she isn't saying that, out loud. It is in mid-sip of sickeningly sweet coffee that she glances over her shoulder, dark eyes flickering toward, and lingering on, the pregnant female. "Hmm." Maybe she's concerned that there won't be enough food for the two of them. "I hope he hasn't changed the special, I liked it the way it was." She does slant a glance at the waitress, one brow twitching at 'Captain', before she slants a glance back to Thorpe. It is belatedly that she notes the badge. "Hm." Again. She likes that sound, apparently. Sodom. And, of course, the voice, she knows. "Anthony." No, she doesn't call him Tony. Yes, she afford him an oh-so-sweet smile. Fake that, although not in the aggressive gonna eat your head fashion.

"Babe. Don't say Sodom. I'm tryin' ta muster up the ability to eat something other than icecream today." West wrinkles her nose slightly, and makes for the counter, obviously having some food issues lately. She pauses, then glances back to Tony. "Wait, how long you been back there?" Anyway, she takes a seat one down from Sabella. Her eyes slide over the woman, and then focus on her newly arrived pie slice. She contemplates that for a moment, then orders, "A black coffee, and some fries. Remember, no pickle anywhere near the plate. In fact, if he orders a pickle, he can't have it if he wants to sit in a ten foot radius or ever kiss me on the mouth again." West jerks a thumb at Tony.

Thorpe glances over his shoulder at the voices noticing West, then Anthony just behind her. Passing a nod to Anthony the guest near him using his name causes his eyes to dart towards her. Passing another inspective gaze over her newly presented side she turned to face the others he lets out an assessing hum. Turning his attention back to his apple pie he stabs off another piece and brings it up to his lips in a slow chew. Setting the paper down he glances over to the pickle demands then to the waitress as he chuckles lightly.

"I'm always right back here," Anthony replies with one of those roguish grins that should either get him laid or punched in the mouth, stepping up beside her at the counter and reaching to slide a hand up along her back in a lazy trail of fingertips as he orders casually from the waitress, "I'll just have a vanilla milkshake, thanks." That said, he tips his head just enough to look down the counter at the statement of her name, a smile tugging up at one corner as he greets, "Sabella. Captain. Always a pleasure to see either of you— both together, well, that's a treat."

It's round about that time that Sabella's food arrives. Two blue plate specials and a large slice of pie ala mode all set in front of her with a dubious look from the waitress. Yes, Sabella looks like she doesn't eat more then a piece, or two, of lettuce. Yes, she starts immediately into the food with a gusto that would do a growing teenager proud. It is in the wake of chewing and swallowing a largish mouthful of food that she raises her chin toward the waitress and notes. "If they get pickles, put em in a box, I'll take them with me." Apparently she does like pickles. Of course, Anthony gains a wry smile that, it should be noted, transforms into a good-natured smirk. "Of course it is a pleasure, Anthony," she murmurs. "Pleasure is my bread and butter, after all." Of course, it's /not/, well, not in the sense that most people would take that, but still. "You haven't come around lately? Not had the need for bare feet along your spine, I take?" Or maybe it's the snakes? It could be the snakes. She does, however, wipe her fingers off on her napkin, extending her hand toward West. "You -must- be Charlie, I've heard so very much about you." Of course she has, it's her business to know other people's business, after all. "Sabella, a pleasure." Pause. "And you," she adds with a glance toward Thorpe. "Captain. I'd offer a hand, but then I'd look like a pretzel." And we can't have that.

West doesn't seem inclined to do either just now. There are fries on the way, and she's struggling to find a comfortable position on the stool at the counter. There's an almost forlorn little look on West's face as she notes the amount of food Sabella has ordered, and is plowing through. "Probably only half of it's true," the brunette replies, reaching over to take Sabella's hand. She gives a very slight squeeze, and her eyes rise to the other woman's.

Thorpe looks at the exchange between the three. His eyebrows visibly raise in curiousity to the sudden relation they all have. Eyes drift over to Tony for only a moment as he nods, "Tony, how's the clublife treating you?" Looking back to Sabella he waves to her dismissively, "Don't worry about it. Mine are busy with pie and coffee as is. Enjoy your dinner." Turning just slightly he sets his fork down and picks the coffee up taking a slow sip as he finds the three chatting far more interesting than his current events reading.

"Oh, you know how busy I am, Sabella…" A low chuckle weaves through Anthony's voice as he inclines his head in her direction, a smile twitching to his lips. It just may be the snakes. They do eat rodents, after all. As West struggles about the stool, his hand slips to the small of her back in a subtle gesture of support for it - not enough to make it seem like she's leaning on him, but just enough to perhaps help her a bit. Those eyes of his slide back towards Thorpe, then, and he admits, "Oh, well enough, really. Everything in the city going well lately, Captain?"

Sabella, on the other hand, doesn't squeeze. In fact, she's very, very careful to keep her grip loose. It wouldn't do, after all, to crush West's hand. She does, however, smile, that sweet-snakey-smile, as she meets and holds the woman's eyes. No, she isn't looking away. In fact, she isn't even blinking. She is, however, firmly holding that gaze. Yes, it's a challenge thing. No, she didn't start it. Yes, if you are at all sensitive, there is a little tingle of 'other' in her gaze. Of course, Thorpe's words remind her of the presence of her food, and her hand casually reaches for her burger after releasing West's hand. Mind you, she's still maintaining the eye contact. Again, she didn't start it. "I do," she affords by way of response to Tony (Still holding West's gaze, mind you). "Pity you haven't found the time to stop by, I know my girls would love to say hello." Her girls, of course, are cobras, and not what might come immediately to mind. "They've been a bit sullen lately," she admits.

West's shoulders rise slightly as her her skin makes firm contact with Sabella's and a tingle of energy slides over he skin. Yes, West is very sensitive to the energy of shapeshifters. A subtle change in her posture makes that obvious. Charlie's gaze isn't so much a challenge as a direct greeting. In fact, a subtle change in her body chemistry occurs as she regards Sabella, and her eyes follow the arch of the woman's brow, then promptly slides down her hair, and over her collarbones, and lower. "Tony. You've been keeping secrets." Eventually her eyes make the circuit back to Sabella's gaze. "Charlie. Or West. Your choice."

Thorpe slowly sips his coffee as he lets his eyes linger from person to person, but he doesn't make eye contact. Learned that lesson once before as he comments, "Haven't had buildings explode. People calmed down from their pissing contests with each other and that fuckin' albino porn star finally stopped poking his around in the wrong places." Turning to face his pie he begins to take some slow bites of it as he adds, "Ever since that one club went up, it's been extremely quiet around here in some regards."

"I'm glad to hear it, Captain. Do keep up the good work," Anthony offers with a smile that's only half fake and a glint of something behind dark eyes— turning back to reach out and accept the milkshake that's set down, fingertips sliding over the condensation on the glass to leave hollow streaks over white. It's brought to his lips, which close about the straw even as his other fingers slide against West's back, a subtle tingle of his own hot energy sliding up her spine. A momentary flicker of his gaze to Sabella, holding on her face for a moment before he lifts his mouth from the straw. "She's a masseuse, dear," he notes casually then, "You should go see her sometime, she can really work wonders… I'm sure she'd treat any friend of mine very well indeed."

Whew. The moment West averts her gaze, Sabella looks visibly relieved and even goes so far as to release a husky laugh. "Charlie suits me just fine," she affords before taking another bite of her burger. The first very nearly finished, she sets it down long enough to dab her lips with a napkin and take a long swallow of her coffee. "Anthony keeping secrets? Tsk, you should have him properly trained, by now, my dear." Of course, she's reaching for french fries as she says that, her lips twitching in that same serpentine smile to show that she's teasing. Of course, she blinks once, her brows furrowing as she slants a glance at Thorpe. "Albino porn star?" And then it clicks into place and she ahhhs. "Thorpe. Of course, I should have known." Apparently she knows -something-. Whatever that something is, she isn't saying, at least not for the moment, since she's busy eating those french fries. Mind you, Anthony's comment brings dark eyes sweeping upward, her gaze halting somewhere beneath his left eye. "I have worked on pregnant females before, thus far, I've had nothing but positive results." Pausing a beat, she slants her gaze back to West, inquiring. "Are you carrying front or back?"

"… What?" West's reply is a little late in coming, and her response could be to any number of people. Her fries have arrived, you see. She slides the plate a little closer, turning her full attention to it. Well, 87 percent of her attention. Tony's hand up her back gets about 8 percent at least. "Masseuse?" Oh, really. She bites a fry in half, and glances to Tony. "You _have_ been keeping secrets." Her eyes linger on him for a long moment, and she smiles slightly, then turns to look at Sabella again. "I … what?" Clearly, she doesn't know what that means.

Thorpe picks up his paper as he idly interjects, "She wants to know where the baby is resting in your stomach. Near the front or near the back." The gaze never leaves the printed words as he takes a slow bite of the pie. Setting the paper down briefly he leans and digs into his pocket, pulling out a pen he makes a mark on the paper. Setting the pen down he picks it back up and continues reading. Closer inspection to the backside shows he is reading the Classifieds.

"If I wasn't keeping secrets, then you'd know I wasn't me," Anthony observes in smug amusement, bringing the milkshake back up and gesturing towards Sabella in a vague motion, before taking another sip of the thick shake. At the discussion about where the baby's being carried, he doesn't say anything, because this is one of those Arcane Female Subjects that men shouldn't interject in.
Of course, Thorpe does anyway.

"The child," Sabella provides. "Are you carrying toward your back, or front? Theraputic massage, when properly applied, can go a long way toward reducing unnecessary strain on both the mother and child. And," she adds around a sip of coffee. "It can reduce the intensity of back labor, should you be unfortunate enough to have to endure that." Pausing a beat, she slants a glance at Thorpe and inclines her head, murmuring. "Yes, that is what I was asking, thank you." Of course, her fries are replaced with snagging her second burger, a quarter torn off and popped in her mouth. In the wake of chewing, swallowing and washing bread and meat down with coffee, she reaches for her pie and draws the plate toward her.

West glances around Sabelle toward Thorpe. She frowns slightly, probably because her boss had to explain that to her. "I'm huge, how the hell do I know what the difference is?" Narrowed eyes go from the Captain to the paper. "What are you looking for a date?" Discussing her uterus makes her a little cranky, apparently. "… I don't know, middle? The little sucker spins around in there like a hip hop dancer on speed."

Thorpe glances up from the paper towards West, "Nope. Work. Some of us still have to do that every once in awhile." With that he picks the pen up and makes another two marks in the paper before setting the pen down. Lifting his coffee up he takes a slow sip he lowers the mug and adds, "You should go to the shooting range."

"Yes," Anthony observes cynically, "I'm certain that all the incredibly loud banging noises would go a long way towards improving her mood, Captain." A roll of his eyes, and he takes another sip of milkshake before suggesting with a tip of the cup towards Sabella, "She knows her business, Charlie. I'd trust her with massage work, at least."

"Here," Wiping her fingers on her napkin, Sabella tugs a business card from the pocket of her jeans and sets it next to West's plate. "Call me to make an appointment, we'll see what we can do about making the remainder of your pregnancy less uncomfortable." Of course, the card is followed with her laying bills on the table alongside her plate and her fork (with the pie) finding her mouth in a few large bites. "I, however, should get back to my work. I have a client in an hour and the girls need to be fed." Wiping her fingers on her napkin, she affords everyone a smile, a husky laugh spilling past her lips in the wake of Anthony's last. "Oh, Anthony, I'm perfectly trustworthy." She's just also terribly good at being terribly nosey. "At any rate, do come by, Charlie, I'll make a point to free up a block of time to suit your availability." She can do that, she's the boss. "Captain Thorpe, it was a pleasure to finally meet you. Anthony, do come visit, you've been missed."

West casts a heavy little look at Thorpe. "People who shoot at paper are pussies." Again, her eyes turn to Sabella. She nods, and reaches for the business card to give it a look. There's a moment's pause before she says, "You're in Paradise. I'll call." Tony's probably going to be footing a small fortune in massage therapy bills in the very near future.

Thorpe chuckles lightly as he nods, "And people who can't qualify on those pussy papers don't get free ammo." A side glance is shot over to West, almost in the chastising father to a daughter way. Passing a glance over to Tony it is just brief before Sabella abruptly gets up. Waving to Sabella briefly he comments, "A pleasure." Looking back to Tony finally he adds, "Rather he be shooting on the range than at me. Just a personal prefence and all."

A slight shrug of one shoulder, and Anthony admits, "That's right, I forgot… you die if someone shoots you. So fragile." The last a bemused murmur against his straw, a slow sip of milkshakey goodness taken, and then he tips it once more in Sabella's direction, following it with a briefly flashed grin, "Perhaps I'll find the time at some point." He will. He'll pay it, though, of course. He's a sucker.

Sabella heads out of the diner.
Sabella has left.

"You know I pass my quals every time without any trouble, Captain," West replies, with a little smirk. She reaches for her plate of fries. "You want to have a little contest, have Gonzo open a pool." Shop talk. She eyes the paper again, "What the hell kinda work are you doin' reading the classifies?" She reaches over with a fry, and scrapes it along the edge of Tony's milkshake, before popping the fry into her mouth. She leans slightly against the club owner, and says, "I don't need free ammo. I hit what I aim for, and 'sides, I only carry silver."

Thorpe nods slowly as he just passes a glance towards Tony then back to West, "Yes. Tony. We do die when shot. The both of us." Motioning towards West with the newspaper he drops it next to her and taps the sections he has been marking in the classifieds. The three marked are requests for package delivery drivers able to move cattle. Glancing towards, "Human Market is moving further north. Easy to mix in a bunch of tourists for them to get in the country. Probably only one of those is actually one hundred percent legit." Slowly closing his eyes he stands and glances to the pair a moment before reaching over to pick up his suit coat.

Anthony leans over as well; his side pressing in lightly against Charlie's own as he takes a look at the paper, a single brow raising slightly as he looks over the marked passages in the classified ads. "…Human Market? A bit dramatic way of putting it… you mean the illegal immigrant smuggling business?"

West is quiet for a moment, considering the plate of fries. She made it through about half before she pushes it away, and rubs her hands on a paper napkin. She closes her eyes, and takes a slow, deep breath. "Shooting people is so much more rewarding that reading the paper." A slight grimace. "The kid is grounded until age 25." Tiny elbows and feet in uncomfortable places.

Thorpe glancing at Tony he shakes his head slowly, "No. This is the Human Market. Families from the Asia area thinking they are coming here to get freedom. Instead they are farmed out for organs and as sexslaves." Picking up his paper from West he grins down to her, "Yes it is. But needs to be done." Reaching into his pocket he pulls out a bill and sets it near his plate. Patting West on the arm with the folded paper he glances towards Tony and says, "I will see you two later."

West gives Thorpe a slight nod, though she moves to rise a moment later, so as to hopefully relieve a little pressure. "I'll see you tomorrow night," she says to Thorpe, as he departs, without waving goodbye. "That woman eats like a linebacker," she finally comments to Tony, referring to Sabella long after she's departed.

"Oh, those," Anthony replies almost dismissively as he leans back a bit again, his hand sliding down the small of West's back again, "Good night, Captain." A tip of his head to West as she rises, noting, "She can really put it away, yeah… you know why. You all right, babe?"

Thorpe heads out of the diner.
Thorpe has left.

West shakes her head slightly. "Food and things moving on the inside." Mostly she deals with the overtaking of her body pretty well. The last couple of weeks have been a little rough. "I need to be somewhere more comfortable." She reaches over for Tony's further hand, giving it a little squeeze. "Pay the bill, so we can go home." She doesn't say 'and rest'.

A wallet, all florentine leather, is drawn from a pocket as Anthony doles out the money for the bill; giving her fingers a brief squeeze before he needs his own to flip through some green paper. "You know," he observes dryly, "It's probably not so much a good idea for Thorpe to go on in front of me like that. I mean, I might make some phone calls and warn those people about him going after them, as far as he knows…"

"You won't." West replies, "Because slavers deserve to be eviscerated." She rises, and glances over, "He does assume I have standards enough not to fuck someone who trades in human lives." She smiles. "Or he's baiting you."

"I still lay odds on 'fucking stupid'," Anthony suggests in casual tones, the wallet closed and tucked away into a pocket before he turns on his heel, offering her his hand and a lopsided grin, "Shall we, then? My car's right outside."

"Windows down, I need the air." West reaches over to take his hand, fingers curling with his. On the subject of Thorpe's intelligence, she doesn't comment. "Let's get milkshakes on the way home."

"I just had one," observes Anthony casually as he walks with her to the door, his fingers curling with her own in return warmly, "But we can definately stop to get you one, beautiful…"
"Since when are you the type to go in for moderation," West asks, arching a brow as she slides her arm around Tony's waist.

"Oh, fine," Anthony laughs, draping his arm about her shoulders and pushing the door open to draw her out into the parking lot, "But only a large one for me…"

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