Dining at the Hash Brown

[imogens_fire]

It was past 1AM by the time Imogen walked to her car in the employee parking lot outside Bally's and she stifled a yawn. The last show ended at midnight, but there was still the business of getting out of costume, taking off the makeup and getting showered after that. Her red rabbit wasn't the newest or most stylish of rides, but it was paid for and had served her well since she'd gotten it as a hand me down from her parents back in high school.

Her stomach grumbled and Imogen glanced downwards. "All right, all right." She grumbled, stomping on the clutch and starting the car, "I'll get something to eat." The more practical side of her wanted to wait until she got home, but she wasn't having it. If she waited then she'd have to cook and clean up afterwards, and that would get her to bed even later than if she just stopped at the Hash Brown for some eggs and toast.

This late there wasn't much traffic even on the strip, and it didn't take long to make it to the restaurant. Sure it was a bit strange that most of the employees were men that liked to wear women's clothes, but it also meant she wasn't going to be hit on and she might even trade fashion tips. Imogen walked into the building and took a seat at the counter, giving the 'waitress' a tired smile when he handed her a menu.

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[noah_restic]

Noah was overtired. He caught his reflection in the silver napkin holder as he pushed his hair back, off of his forehead. The restaurant was a halfway point for him, somewhere to kill a little time. He drained the rest of his coffee and waited for a refill.

A woman walked into the restaurant, and her presence was a brief distraction. Noah glanced up, disinterested at first, then back down at his menu. It was only when he felt a strange tingle form on the back of his neck that he studied her more closely.

"Please don't tell me you need a few more minutes. You said that twenty minutes ago." The sound of a pen clicking impatiently accompanied the voice next to him. Noah kept his eyes on the girl as he ordered.

"The chicken sandwich. No mayo. And more coffee." He handed the menu over.

[imogens_fire]

Imogen had noticed the guy when she'd come in of course, but she hadn't really paid much attention to him. Skinny, black hair, at least a few years older than her, focused on his menu.

She felt an itch as she studied the menu, and looked up to find the skinny guy staring at her. Imogen stared right back, a bit confused. Sure she was used to admiring glances from men, she wasn't stupid or naive, but this felt a bit different.

"What'll it be honey?" Imogen turned her attention from the guy back to the server, who was all but tapping a foot in impatience to get the order taken. Probably wanted to go back to the magazine he'd been reading when she walked in.

"I'll have the scrambled eggs and toast, with decaf."

[noah_restic]

He went about adding the smallest amount of cream to his coffee, no sugar. He watched as a swirl of white dissipated into the black, slightly oily surface. Noah didn't bother mixing it before taking a sip.

"Are you sure about that?," he spoke up, his words directed toward her. She was about three stools down from him. "The decaf is pretty awful." Noah looked down at his mug. "Actually, the caf is pretty awful, too, but at least it serves a purpose."

[imogens_fire]

The server shot him an irritated glance, then looked to Imogen. "Any change hun?"

"No change." Imogen waved the Hash Brown employee off and looked to her questioner. "I've had worse than the java here. It could be McDonald's coffee.." McDonald's truly was the worse in her opinion, even though she'd relied on it more than once as a struggling college student. "I'm Imogen."

[noah_restic]

The corners of his mouth twitched in amusement as he watched the server walk away. "Noah," he answered, and there was more than a hint of curiosity to his voice as he regarded her.

"It's either really late, or really early. Which is it for you?"

[imogens_fire]

"Late I guess." Imogen said after a moment's thought. "I just got off work a little bit ago and wanted food I didn't have to cook. What about you?"

[noah_restic]

"The same." And that was pretty much true. His coffee was cool enough now, and he took a longer pull of it, the porcelain mug clinking as he set it back down on the counter. Tiny grains of sugar speckled the surface and Noah brushed them away.

He still got that feeling from her, that inscrutable something he was getting better and better at recognizing, but had no name for. "So, where do you work that keeps you out so late?"

[imogens_fire]

"I work on the strip, in Bally's." She replied simply, and absently thanked the server as a cup of coffee was set in front of her. It was still odd to call the Casino Bally's, in her head it was still the MGM, but things changed.

"So what's kept you up late? Or are you just a nightowl in general?"

[noah_restic]

"I'm mostly up at night, but I've been working, too." Any hint of sleepiness had fled him at this new distraction. It had been awhile since a stranger had piqued his interest enough to make small talk.

His food was placed in front of him, but Noah ignored it for the moment. "I run errands, I guess like a courier. Sort of." He shrugged, the guise of a carefree Las Vegas resident.

"It must be exciting to work in a casino."

[imogens_fire]

"It can be," Imogen didn't want to be too blase about working on the strip. She just didn't want to give away exactly what she did just yet. "It can be pretty stressful too, I'm usually busy from start to finish."

Experience over the last couple months taught her that some people heard 'showgirl' and thought 'stripper' or 'prostitute'. She'd seen more than once how people's attitudes changed instantly and either tried to woo her from a 'life of sin' or assumed she was an easy lay.

And she had prejudices of her own after all. A courier wasn't exactly the most glamorous or high status of occupations, but he was cute. Maybe it was just being in between real jobs, who knew? "So what sorts of things do you deliver?"

[noah_restic]

He picked up a fry, the time it took to chew it enough to gather his words carefully. "It really depends on the client. Most of the time, I don't even ask." Noah constructed the lie as he went along; he was more than suitable at it.

"Mostly, it just seems like documents. Probably all boring stuff, but it pays the bills." He offered Imogen a smile. "Actually, some of the clients work for the casinos. So we have that in common."

[imogens_fire]

Imogen nodded knowingly. "Ah, so you're one of those kinds of couriers." Being a Vegas native whose parents had worked in the industry she knew all about the special kind of messengers. Ones you didn't ask who the package was from or what it was about.

Her order arrived and she started cutting it up. "So have you been around Veags for long?"