;. something's gotta give. [Open]

[cheryl]

(Don't worry about it. You're fine)

Those huge ears of hers did more than just compliment her head and serve as a conveyor of her emotions. Like her Commander In Chief joked about his own, they really were that big. And what her big, sensitive ears could hear when Agent York turned away was him whispering "Where do you think we should go, Zach? Do you want to skip out on coffee all together and just go and do something else? Maybe they have an arcade around here or- wait. Weren't we just doing something important?"

Her face contorted to one of concern and she actually began to grow a little worried. He just talked to himself. No wait, maybe he had some hidden ear piece and he was doing some secret spy stuff with a hidden communicator. Well, maybe. Or maybe he was batshit crazy. One of her eyes grew wide while the other closed to a tiny slit, a What The Fuck look dawning on her face as she turned slightly toward Anya and whispered, "He's crazy," parodying her first words to Anya earlier. She didn't know if she hit the nail on the head or if York really was talking to a hidden partner. Either way, it seemed appropriate to say, joking or not.

Then the question regarding their origins arose. Were they from around here? She didn't know about Anya, that is until the other woman spoke up and told that she was from a little town in California called Sunnydale. "Umm, I'm from somewhere," Cheryl responded, as vaguely and as smartassed as she could. Not out of meanness, of course. It was just her quirky nature. "And you, Agent York?"

She'd wait until the suit enlightened them with his origins, assuming he would, before finishing with "So, you two can follow me, if you want. I know a place to grab a good bite to eat."

Lead, follow or get out of the way. All this talk of coffee and not one suggestion. Time to take matters into her own hands. Time was ticking and her break wouldn't last forever. Her being hungry didn't help either. She immediately started to walk off, trusting the other two would follow her to a little 1950s themed diner she knew of, a place where she had yet to meet another Marine whilst off duty.

[Anya]

"He's crazy."

Bewildered by this sudden statement, Anya turned to stare at Cheryl incredulously. ...Crazy? The comment startled her, and she almost had to wonder if she'd misheard. Crazy how? The only thing that she could imagine would have provoked such a declaration was the brief moment in which York had turned away from the group for reasons that had been unclear to Anya. But had Cheryl picked up on something that she hadn't noticed? Anya studied the goblin's expression, but couldn't decide if she'd been dead serious, or merely joking. After all, she'd accused the vengeance demon of the very same thing when they'd met moments ago.

Anya didn't comment on Cheryl's vague answer pertaining to her origins, merely accepting the words with a slight nod. She gazed at her companions; the mischievously evasive goblin and the formal, yet somehow enigmatic FBI agent, and guessed that all three of them had at least one thing in common: they all had secrets, secrets that they were hiding--or at least, neglecting to mention--from one another. It was part of how they survived, and when the demon reflected on how strange the situation was, she almost had to laugh. After all, how much did she really know about these two? She had no way of knowing how much she could really trust either of them, and yet here she was, discussing the city's best choice of dining as if they were old friends.

She shrugged, though, seeing no reason to protest Cheryl's decision. It beat standing around indecisively, anyway. "Well, that's settled!" The demon agreed. As the other woman began heading in the direction of the restaurant in question, Anya threw an inquisitive glance in York's direction. She assumed the agent would come along as well, although with him she couldn't be too certain. "Let's go," she encouraged, "If this place doesn't have coffee, maybe it'll have alcohol!" Her light-hearted tone most likely came off as a joke, though in truth it was just another of the demon's strange, outspoken ramblings. Blithely, she started off to follow Cheryl. One good thing to come of all this, at least, was that for now her previous brooding had been forgotten. Despite her misgivings, the socialization was certainly brightening Anya's day.

Cheryl had picked out a little diner that the demon had never been to before(of course, the same could be said of quite a few places in New York). She peered curiously at the exterior, noting that the place seemed to be '50s-themed and appreciating its easy-going charm. Definitely no alcohol here, though probably coffee. But Anya liked places like this; casual, small, kind of quirky places where you found all sorts of people. Places where it was easy to blend in.

"I like it." Anya announced at once, flashing Cheryl a grin."It definitely beats sitting in the rain talking to myself. Are you sure they won't mind us hanging out in there? I mean, we're kind of an odd group." Not that the blonde had ever exactly cared what people thought of her, but she had to acknowledge the humor in the situation. A demon whose mannerisms were strange and quite inconspicuous, a goblin in full military uniform, and an FBI agent with a suit and a badge were admittedly an unusual crowd, even for a place like New York City.

[cheryl]

The dinging of a little bell connected to the door announced to the occupants of the diner that someone or someones new had just entered the diner. The little Marine, with closet demoness and hopefully FBI agent in toe too, stepped several more paces inside before coming to a stop. She clasped her hands behind her back and puffed out her chest while rocking back and forth on the soles of her boots. Inhaling deeply, she savored the scent of cheeseburgers, french fries, onion rings, fried chicken and an assortment of other goodies that were bad for anyone's health.

The overwhelming aroma was better than any perfume or air freshener that Cheryl had ever come across. And Fortunately for Agent York, it also had a distinct twinge of coffee to it. No deception either, as the sight of the filled coffee pot behind the counter announced as much.

As the defacto leader of the trio, Cheryl continued to lead on, moving to a little booth in the corner, which had more than enough room for them. She slide onto the little red bench seat, sliding all the way to the window in case one of them wanted to sit beside her instead of each other, then reverted back to her usual, goofy self.

"Pancakes. Always have pancakes on Tuesday. There's no maple syrup on the table. Can't have pancakes without maple syrup. If they bring the maple syrup and put it on the table with or after the pancakes then it's gonna be too late," she muttered aloud, despite the fact it was neither breakfast time or Tuesday. As though on cue, a waitress came up to them after the Sergeant had finished muttering, asking to take their order.

[York]

"Hm...a mug of coffee, blackest you have with bacon crisp enough to rival a clear spring morning and an egg with it's face to the stars...and milk, if you can."

York stayed silent after ordering, looking about the 50's decor. York, while a fan of music from the era, never did like the aesthetic too much, nor the overall retro feel of it. The 50's reminded him of horror stories that the dinosaur-aged agents would tell about Hoover, and how the world still moved on with bright smiles on their face.

'Thank god for the 60's, eh Zach?'

But York digressed. He shouldn't spend his time thinking about how much he did or didn't like the dinner. His head told him that he should just relax, drink his coffee, eat his eggs, and leave...

'Wait...there was still something else...damn Zach, I'm being rather forgetful today. Let's keep a steadier eye on the girl, not let our mind wander.'

[Anya]

Anya airily followed her companions into the diner, and while her attention was initially directed at the unique decor, she quickly became more interested in the people scattered throughout the tables. Her gaze, alight with curiosity, passed over a pair of bickering young children with their frazzled-looking parents wearily attempting to quiet them, an older couple eating quietly, and a man sitting alone with his newspaper, among others. Their seamless interactions and the sheer normality of their everyday lives captured her admiration for a moment, before she bounced over to the table that Cheryl had chosen and seated herself next to the goblin in time to catch the tail end of her pancake spiel.

Once they were all seated, a waitress approached and asked to take their orders. Anya briefly scanned the menu as York ordered his coffee and eggs, before placing her own order. Although it wasn't morning, all the talk of coffee and pancakes and maple syrup had put her in the mood for some kind of breakfast food. The demon considered for a moment. "I'll have french toast," Anya had yet to figure out why it was called French toast, anyway, but regardless, "And a cup of coffee too. ...Please." She finished, remembering to be polite as an afterthought.

Pausing to allow Cheryl to order as well, Anya turned her focus to York. While still wary of the agent, her unease was beginning to give way a bit to curiosity. She remembered what he'd said about how he took his coffee; something about pouring the milk in himself and telling the future. It was a concept that the demon had never heard of before, and she wondered if York would be willing to show them when their coffee came.

She began to fidget again in the silence that followed. While it was true that Anya could ramble on for ages out the most trivial of things, she wasn't quite as adept at making legitimate conversation. Deciding that she would try to find out a little more about her companions, she cleared her throat softly. "Well, this is kind of nice. You two are pretty much the first people I've officially met in this city." she remarked, glancing from York to Cheryl. Both the FBI and the Marines, as far as she knew, tended to travel quite a bit, and she pondered what had brought them to New York. "Are you guys sticking around? Or just passing through?" Anya quirked an eyebrow at this, wondering if either of them were here on some sort of...official business that she shouldn't have been asking about.

[cheryl]

Letting them order first seemed like the polite thing to do. Not that the rules of etiquette and proper manners were a priority, or indeed something she was well versed in. But simply letting them order first felt....nice. As quirky as she was, she remained silent and still until both her companions were finished. Once they were done, she went back to being her giddy and eccentric self.

And started quoting Rain Man again.

Once the waitress turned to face her, Cheryl blinked and blurted out, "Sally Dibbs, Dibbs Sally. 461-0192." Naturally, the other woman, who was neither a Sally or a Dibbs, stared at her. "Oh, I mean I'll takers one of those double bacon cheeseburgers on the menu, some fries, a Coke and umm......I guess I'll have desert?" She briefly glanced at York and Anya, asking "Are either of you gonna have desert? Cause I don't wanna be the only one eating it. I'll feel like a fatty."

The uncharacteristic modesty meant that she was either having another spazz moment or she was parodying something else. Without giving anyone much time to consider, the looked back toward the waitress.

"And I'll have a slice of Boston cream pie."

Unlike the other two, perhaps, this was Cheryl's lunch break. And she was starving. She reasoned she could pig out and not have to feel bad about it. Anya and York? Well, maybe they just weren't hungry.

[Anya]

OOC// Meh, well I was gonna wait for York to post, but I felt bad that I haven't been active lately, and with this thread kinda dying and all...


When Cheryl ordered, Anya watched the exchange between her and the waitress with mingled interest and amusement. The demon was not well-versed enough in pop culture to recognize the Rain Man quote that Cheryl had quipped, but she was most certainly familiar with the odd look the waitress had fixed the goblin with. Anya had received quite a few of those looks herself in her history of contact with humans, and she couldn't help but grin at her friend's quirkiness.

When asked if she'd be having dessert, Anya blinked. The idea hadn't really occurred to her, but it sounded tempting. Although, another serving of something sugary added to her meal of syrup-covered french toast and a caffeine-packed cup of coffee probably wasn't the best idea for a naturally energetic vengeance demon. She'd probably be bouncing off the walls later, but...if her ordering dessert would make Cheryl feel better, then it was for a good cause. Right?

She picked up the menu, flipped to the dessert section, and tilted her head slightly as she scanned."Dessert. Hmm. Alright, I'll have a strawberry milkshake." Anya decided, glancing back up at the waitress. Sugar rush be damned; she'd just go out later and find a vampire to kill, or something."And I'm doing this as a show of...solidarity. Not that you mind, I'm sure. It's probably better that we order a ton of food so that you get a large enough tip to make this job worth doing." The demon offered the waitress an understanding smile, as if she'd just made a very compassionate insight.

What she received in return was a frown that could only be described as bewildered. Anya was slightly taken aback, but the waitress only nodded, scribbled down the order, and took a step away from their table. She was most likely desperate to escape by this point, but seemed unsure if they were quite finished ordering. Anya shrugged and turned to York, wondering if he had anything to add. Although certainly, he couldn't be blamed if he was instead wondering how he'd gotten himself into this mess.