location: nautical food truck park status: open
With one last, doting drag of his dying cigarette, Beau watches at the butt slips from his fingers onto the floor, crushed beneath the worn toe of his boot with an indifference that seemed almost practiced. It was the growl in his stomach that finally outshouted the hum of the evening air, too loud to ignore any longer than he'd already had. And if he had to suffer through one more lunch of garlic knots and watered-down fountain soda, it might be curtains for him.
He lifts his head to survey the lineup of food trucks with the same deadpan expression he gives the world spun around him: a disinterested stare that only the human equivalent of a stalled-out car could muster. The neon menus flicker in the dimming light, some bulbs shot here, some bulbs stuttering there, but nothing really jumps out at him. When does anything, though?
Christ. That was depressing, even for him.
Still, standing around wasn't going to fix his empty stomach, and so, with a sigh, he begins his zombie shuffle towards the least crowded truck. His hand fiddles with his hair as he pauses just before a chalkboard menu, scanning the options with an air so slow, so heavy-lidded-- Beau looks like a man desperate for a distraction.
