Brenna locked the car and walked to the door. She paused outside the toss the cigarette into the ash tray sand outside before pushing the door open and walking in.

She looked around and seated herself in a booth, stretching her legs out beneath her somewhat and leaning her head back.

Now the largest decision was what to get. And the amount of money needed to get it with.

Andrei's cigarette follows Brenna's, with slightly more reluctance.

He enters the place and looks around, following his transportation benefactor into the booth. He slides into the seat across from her and folds his arms on the table.

"What's usually good here?"

Brenna is silent for a moment, then shrugs without changing positions.

"I usually get th' grilled cheese.. taco salad.. or chicken strips.. s'pretty good. Fries..yeah... or they got other sides.. I always get a milkshake.. or coffee.."

She declines the offer of a menu from the waitress, leaving the option open for Andrei and ordering a medium coffee, black.

"Yeah.. but don't get the breaded pork.. I think it looked a little diseased last time..."

She suggested, trying to be helpful.

He raises his thin, expressive eyebrows at Brenna, then turns to the waitress.

"Onion rings." No 'please', no polite chatter. He barely even looks her in the eye, turning his attention to the rest of the diners instead.

Brenna did not see his look, mumbling after him.

"Fries.. add cheese on the side."

The girl scribbles down the short order and trots off, mumbling something about bringing the coffee.

Brenna does not straighten.

"There a lot of people here?"

She mumbled, not paying attention. At least she had not noticed a parent or two, which would not have gone over well, she felt.

"Yeah, a few," Andrei mutters, leaning back in the booth and resting his head in the corner where it meets the wall. He keeps his eyes open and on the room around them.

"Your turn for a question or mine?"

"Mmm.. Mine.."

She mumbled, not looking over as her coffee was delivered.

"What's up with that eye?"

Forward, but then again so was much of what Brenna did.

The eye in question rolls in unison with the other.

"S'a birth defect," he says, and the tone says I know I haven't explained it to you yet, but I'm still tired of epxlaining.

"Had it since I was born."

"I like it."

She replies simply, but takes the tone as a warning not to ask about the hair. She takes the coffee, adding two blue packets of sugar and stirring for a few seconds before sipping at.

"Your turn."

He blinks, staring out the window on the other side of the diner.

"'Kay... how old are you?" Curious tone.

She glanced over to follow his mis-matched gaze for a moment, then back at her coffee.

"Nineteen."

She sipped the steaming contents before taking the easy way around her turn.

"You?"

"Same," he says with a shrug. The gesture is severely limited by his current position.

"Do you like the show Family Guy?"

Brenna had to pause and think. That and the food came.

She took a fry and dipped it in the cheese, munching as she thought.

"That's the show with the baby and the talking dog, right? Heh... yeah, I like that show.. S'pretty funny.."

She plunged on without waiting for confirmation of the question.

"You play any instruments?"

One long, lanky arm reaches out and he snatches an onion ring from its grease-covered box.

"Yeah, with the dog and baby. No, no instruments." He shakes his head, then shoves the onion ring in.

Brenna nodded and yawned a little as she reverted between fires and coffee, accpeting a refill and adding another packet of sugar.

"Got a girlfriend?"

Not that she cared, it was just a question.

The arm pauses briefly in its journey to the onion rings, then continues as though it hadn't.

"Fuck, me? You kidding? No." He grabs an onion ring and stuffs this, as well, into his mouth.

"I wasn't kidding, but okay."

She took two fries into her mouth this time.

"I've asked two questions. Your turn..."

"What kind of music d'you listen to?"

Two onion rings are stuck together-- he stuffs both in his mouth and chews, waiting for the answer.

"Anything. I like some classical.. from my parents.. but rock.. little heavy metal.. I like that too. I'm not big on rap.. at all. Or pop.. R&B's okay.."

She shrugged and took a large sip of coffee, only thinking to blow on it afterward. She paused, waiting for her next question, which she felt, was due.

"Classical?" he snorts, his opinion of the genre clearly negative.

"D'YOU play an instrument?" his eyes slide over to her, curiously. She asked him. probably she does.

"Yeah..."

She considered something, then muttered.

"Flute, clarinet, trumpet, guitars, acoustic, electric bass and lead, th' piano or a keyboard I know my way around a violin but I'm not great on it."

She ate a few more fries.

"I sense some contempt for the classical style?"

Andrei shrugs, an expression of determined 'I'm not Impressed By All Those Intruments"ness on his features.

"Maybe."

Brenna did not appear to be trying to impress, her expression indifferent the entire time.

"Oh.. my parents are nuts over it..."

She stopped talking and frowned at her coffee mug as if having taken personal offense at something it said.

"Good for them," he says, and then prevents further comments for the time being by placing yet another onion ring in his mouth.

Brenna let it drop there. She eyed the fries and once more seemed to change her mind. She drummed bitten nails on the table top that smell of cheap cleaner and mumbled after a second.

"You doing anything tonight?"

She argued internally, then finally looked at Andrei.

"Yeah Sleeping. Oh, you mean before that?" He glances over at Brenna, raising an eyebrow.

"No. Why?" it's almost a challenge. Actually, it is.

"Ya wanna go do something?"

Why did this have to sound like she was coming onto him? She leaned back and tried to escape the awkwardness by taking a drink of coffee.

He pauses and gives her an appraising look, the effect slightly off-balanced by the unusual intensity of his white eye.

"Like?" he asks. The tone is somewhere between a yes and a no... but it's leaning on yes.

"Like... what do you like to do? Besides sleep and smoke. Not that I oppose either one."

She looked at him, setting both her eyebrows firmly and staring back into that white eye.

"Watch mives," he suggests. The tone isn't quite an invitation, as an invitation is too much of a risk, even in this situation.

It's close enough to be an inviation if she wants it to be.

"We could come to my place... Anything in particular you wanna see?"

She seemed to relax somewhat, eating a few more fries doused with cheese.

"Yeah. 'Underworld,'" he says.

Disney is not appropriate for dates.

Another onion ring follows its brethren into Andrei's mouth.

Brenna though for a moment, finishing the coffee.

"That's got th' vampires and werewolves in it, right? Sony did it, or something..?"

She tried to pin down the television preview in her brain, furrowing her brow.

He swallows and nods.

"Yeah, I think so. It just looks cool." He adjusts his position, sitting up, inspecting Brenna for any sign of ulterior motive.

If there was one, Brenna was hiding it well. She ate the last two fries and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin.

"You about ready? I dunno when the video store closes..."

She dug around in her pocket, tossing the money and a small tip on the tabletop and adjusting her jacket.

"Yeah," he says, somewhere between interested and suspicious. he stands, digging for his own cash.

"Where d'you live, Brenna?"

"On th' north side of town... 'bout ten miles north t' north east of Keaton.. by th' fire station."

It was a rough description, but then again, she was the driving, so did it matter? She paused, mapping out the way to the video rental store and then to her house while she waited.

he drops som change on the counter. The coins clatter against the tabletop.

"Let's go," he says, shrugging back into his jacket and turning towards the door.

"Let's."

Brenna nodded and followed. Outside. Cold. Damn. Brenna claps her hands together before fishing out her car keys. She unlocks the Mustang and climbs in, shutting her door. While she waits for Andrei to get situated, she pulls a cigarette from the pocket of her jacket, lights it, and blows the first mouthful of smoke out.

She usually did not smoke this often in a day, even she had to admit, but her temper still needed softening.