11.8.98
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The bell over the door clanged softly, announcing yet another brave soul's arrival in the slightly grimy and rather dubiously titled Ed's Topless Do-Nut Emporium.

Beej liked this place, as dingy, sleazy, tawdry and tasteless as it was. For one thing, it was a real armpit of a hole in the wall; the name alone was enough to keep most respectable types from ever setting foot inside. And for another... Well. They made the best damn doughnuts this side of 14th and G in Niah'tleks.

Snickering to himself, he plopped down on the worn red vinyl of the first empty booth available and waved to Sandy-Mae. The woman waved back, grinning as she slipped into the kitchen. The little place was surprisingly busy, people slinking in and out in search of sweets, pastries, or something that wasn't exactly on the menu... Another one of the reasons he liked coming here. Good for business.

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11.10.98
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"Hello, there, hat-man... Haven't seen you in a while."

Beej looked up sharply, having forgotten Sandy's habit of drifting up to the table unnoticed and scaring the daylights out of her customers. "Hello to you, too..." He grins. "I know... I've been busy."

"Busy, huh? Yeah, sure... You've just been avoiding my girlish charms, scared that I'm gonna sweep you offa your feet." She laughed, a deep, from-the-chest laugh of a dedicated smoker. The woman herself wouldn't have been out of place in a truck-stop hashhouse, calling big burly men 'hon' and sending them on their way with an extra sandwich or thermosful of coffee. Middle-aged, a bit thick around the waist, crow's feet and laugh lines beginning to web her face... She was on her fourth husband and seventh grandchild, happy as a clam. "So, what'll y'have today?"

"Me? Naaah... You're a little late, actually. Besides, what would...Walter, right? What would he think?" Shaking his head, Blackwater resettled himself on the seat, stretching his legs out under the table. "Oh, I'll have the Industrial Espionage special, as usual." The names of the specials were fairly entertaining, too... His favorite happened to be a half-dozen buttermilk cruellers and a bottomless cup of coffee, named for the fact that a team of men that had committed the special's namesake had always had the same thing for breakfast every day of the job.

"Walter? That old poop? Who cares? C'mon, let's elope, handsome... Whoever you're with won't miss you." She's only teasing, watching him closely with sparkling brown eyes. "You got it, kiddo. Be back in a minute."

"See, I knew it was Walter. I think -he- would... I'd love to, but I can't. Obligations, promises, appointments to keep, vows to honor..." He can't keep himself from blushing a bit, though, which he knows is just the reaction she wants. "Spiffy... Thanks."

Sandy-Mae just laughs, sauntering off in the direction of a tableful of poker players.

Beej was tired. He just wanted something to nibble on and to get this deal over with... They had a show to not only get to, but set up for tomorrow; they hadn't gotten to bed as early as he'd hoped for last night, and they'd had to get up early... Sometimes, he wondered if they weren't doing too much on too little sleep.