Well, so long as he’s stuck ‘round here, might as well take up that offer. Man, he really hoped he could eat that pie. What would he give for a nice, big, beautiful slice of pie.
...Nah, there’s no way. That thing’s gonna be loaded with enough butter to make Paula Deen herself cry like a baby. Forget about it, it ain’t happening. Maybe he could just get a coffee? Ech.
What Tony expected when he walked in was what he got, more or less. A quaint, homey, greasy little dive, with faded red seats, gum-chewing waitresses, and more grumpy old dudes than you could shake a stick at. No sign of Eddie, though. Guess he’d have to pay outta his own pocket time.
What he didn’t expect, however, was somebody to be sitting there with a plate of food tall enough to play Jenga with— sausages, bacon, eggs, waffles, pancakes, the whole damn garbage plate— looking like she’d just been served a piece of lettuce.
Naturally, the only empty seat left in the house was right next to her. That was just his kind of luck, you see.
...Ah, what the hell. When in Rome, right? With a shrug, he plopped himself into the chair, taking care not to disturb the Leaning Tower of Pisa over there. Did she put her bacon and eggs— on top of her pancakes? Geese Louise—
“Ah, ‘nother new face, huh?” Right on time, a plump, curvy, vivacious looking woman saddled up to them from behind the counter. “ROSIE”, huh? Cute name. “What can I get ya, handsome?”
Tony grinned, giving his neighbor a bit of a nudge, and said. “I dunno, is there anythin’ left?”
Rosie— was it short for something, he wondered?— shot the woman one hell of a glare. “...At this rate? You’ll be lucky to get a cuppa coffee.”
Oh, geeze. He didn’t mean it like that. Tony’s smile faltered, but, ever the optimist, he soldiered on. “...Well, hey, what’s wrong with a cuppa coffee? Lay it on me!”
With another pointed look, and a little huff, the waitress went on her way, leaving him with the woman he may have just— by total accident! He didn’t mean it!— insulted.
“...So, uh, long day ahead of ya, huh?”