Angel approached the diner in the hub between dirt roads, a path that the brunette man had familiarized himself with since the moment he was able to put his hands on a steering wheel at the tender age of sixteen—leaving the toxic environment he’d grown accustomed to, only to fall into the arms of another unpredictable lifestyle. Nonetheless, it allowed him to learn and garner things he lacked his whole life: confidence, and even more so confidence in his talent of manipulation, to the point where it grew to be second nature for him. With the help of his mentors, the power he held on those around him became clear as the night’s sky, and it was put into good use. It gave him free reign, allowing him to run away with supplies and money before anyone could even realize what he had just succeeded to do.Â
And today was no different for Angel Cordier. The California sky beaming with sunlight, evading his senses in the comfort of his leather laden, bleach-white Mustang. His dreamy condition of loneliness in the desert heat to be stopped with the doo-wop music and chilled air of the sixties-style diner. He scanned the space, only to find himself being the only customer. The male proceeded to take a seat in one of the red leather booths, one hand holding a menu and the other tapping against the granite table–a habit he picked up as a child and seemed endless in its patterns throughout the years. The pitter patter of feet and small conversation sounded throughout the room after minutes of silence, as if the room was being brought to life with the help of a single person. looking up, his viridescent hues became fixated on a petite brunette girl appearing from the doors of the kitchen only to disappear moments later, leaving Angel in pure silence and utter astonishment.