Paike took a gander at the diner, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth. "Not too shabby," he replied, shoving his hands in his pockets and quietly taking a breath. The bright lights of the city eased his nerves, whether he'd realized it or not.
A quaint little diner, it seemed to be. Hopefully, given how late at night it was, not many people would be there.
"You know anyone in there? Like the manager or the bartender or something? Do the people mind their own business, at least?"
"I know the owner," Lucas replied, leading them off their dirt path and the concrete one that ran next to the road. There weren't many people out, which was good for them as they wouldn't be stopped by any of the syndicate, hopefully, "I've been going there since I've been on the run."
The owner, Flo, was an elderly lady Lucas had come to view as motherly figure of sorts. She didn't know about his powers and even though she'd questioned him previously and didn't believe him, she never asked again. She'd always been sweet to him, treating Lucas like a son and Lucas had always thanked her for that.
"All sorts of people end up here but they all keep to themselves."
Paike mulled over the information for a brief moment before shrugging, pulling down his sunglasses and adjusting his collar.
"I suppose that'll have to do."
He hesitated, lifting his sunglasses to peer at Lucas with a keen, focused gaze.
"Call me crazy. I know we're s'posed to be on the same team here, but my guard is up, capiche? Pull a fast one on me and I'm handing you to Baruskov on a silver platter."
Flashing Lucas a smile, he dropped his sunglasses back down on his face, concealing whatever emotion that accompanied the smile.
"'Course, I figure you aren't gonna do that, but I'm letting you know now. If we're gonna be relying on each other, there's gotta be trust. And I bet you don't have much more reason than I to give someone that trust, so let's try to take it slow, hm?" he suggested. "This diner's a place to start. If we're gonna spend the next hour or so taking it easy, I want to get to know you a bit better."
Lucas couldn't help but let out a soft sigh with a gentle roll of his eyes. He had presumed this talk was coming. Paike wasn't wrong, he was dead right, and Lucas would do the same if it was the other way around.
"Yes yes, I understand. No backstabbing blah blah. Thought that part was at least a little obvious." He shook his head, more to himself than anything.
"Slow and steady wins the race as the saying goes. But I'm not sharing anything about me if I'm not gonna get the same back, okay?"
They made their way to the front of the door. There looked to be a few people inside. A group of older men at the bar, a couple people sitting alone, but that was about it.
Lucas pushed the door open, the smell of sugar and coffee wafting itself out from inside the diner.
"Yeah, yeah, this thing's a two-way street," Paike mumbled his agreement, having seemingly forgotten that he had to talk just as much as Lucas did, much to his displeasure.
He'd almost forgotten the smell of a good old-fashioned diner. It brought back memories, pleasant ones at that. The only thing that tipped him off was the group of men at the bar; they might be either drunken delinquents of some variety or undercover agents, and he didn't really feel like tangoing with either. But maybe if the two laid low, nothing would come out of it.
He folded his arms across his chest, taking in the atmosphere around him. He, admittedly, missed the feeling of casual hang-outs such as these.
If Lucas was right about the place, maybe he wouldn't have to miss it any longer.
"You said you know the owner of this place?" he whispered, casting a glance at Lucas. "Do y'know how to get her attention?"
