Waffle House (CVU & CVnU location thread)

"It is indeed marvelous. An irony free zone where everything is beautiful and nothing hurts where everybody regardless of race, creed, color, or degree of inebriation is welcomed. Its warm yellow glow a beacon of hope and salvation, inviting the hungry, the lost, the seriously hammered all across the south to come inside. A place of safety and nourishment." - Anthony Bourdain

Rules

- Regardless of whatever crisis is going on, Waffle House is always open.

- This is not any particular Waffle House in any particular time, place, or universe. Character interactions in this thread are not necessarily taking place at the same establishment but they must take place inside of or on the premises of a Waffle House somewhere in the Southern United States.

- Everyone is welcome here, but if you get into a fight please don't destroy the building.

- If you're not a paying customer you might be asked to leave.

- If you order pancakes I will silently judge you.

@awshucks:

A man with dark hair and eyes walks through the front door of the establishment as makes his way to the counter. Once he gets there, he plops down on one of the stools and looks at the person dishing out the food.

"What do you have?"

@cutting_edge:

A woman in her mid 60s stands behind the counter. She greets the new patron with a smile as sweet as syrup.

"Let me get you a menu, sweetie."

Seconds later a shaking hand brings the man a simple laminated menu, one with pictures of every item that even the illiterate or highly intoxicated could understand.

"What will you have to drink, dear?"

@awshucks:

As Arthur reads through the menu passively, he heres the woman asking him what he would like to drink. There is only one thing that he has on his mind.

"Do you have any scotch?", he asks with genuine hope. After the night that he had, he would like to drown his pain in his favourite alcohol, rather than face his problems in a meaningful or long lasting way.

@cutting_edge:

The woman's smile falters for just a moment.

"I'm sorry, sir, but we don't serve alcohol. The drinks are on the other side of the-"

She's interrupted by a grizzled grey-haired man in a nearby booth. His clothes are dirty and tattered and he smells like the streets he sleeps on. He holds up a metal canteen and something can be heard sloshing inside.

"Hey, buddy. I got yer scotch for ya."

The man's genuine smile reveals teeth ranging from yellow to black. He motions politely for Arthur to sit across from him.

@awshucks:

Arthur exchanges a wary look with the lady as he uneasily begins to get up from his stool.

As Arthur walks down to the man, he begins observing the man more closely. He wore dirty, ragged clothes that had seen much better days. His smile was friendly but at the same time unsettiling.

Arthur knew that he probably shouldn't accept a anything from this stranger, but then again he was getting a free drink so why should he care?

As he sat down at the booth, he took canteen that the man offered the drink in and poured into his glass. "Thanks mister..."

@cutting_edge:

"Don't mention it, man."

The bum reclaims his flask and raises it to his lips, gulping down what's left of the whiskey. He then returns it to his coat pocket and peels his sticky menu off the table, eyeing an attractive image of a hash brown.

"I'm Edgar and I don't think I've never seen you before. What's your name, man?"

@awshucks:

"Arthur, Arthur Mark."

The inventor raises the glass to his nose and sniffs it briefly. He then deems it safe enough for him to drink from. After he takes a couple of sips, he then turns back to the man.

"This is the first time that I have been here, I was in the area and needed to find a place to get a hot meal. So, do you come here often?"

@cutting_edge:

"Oh yeah, I mean I can't usually afford such fine dining but I come see em' when I can. They're the only folks around who'll always treat you nice."

@awshucks:

Matthew listens to the man as he continues to gulp down his drink. As he finishes the rest of it, he sets down the glass and let's out a satisfied sigh.

As the man finishes speaking, Arthur thinks about his words carefully. "Fine dining huh? You must have had some tuff times", he said stating the obvious.

@cutting_edge:

Edgar shrugged.

"Truth is I'm just a quitter. I knew plenty of folks who went through harder times than I ever did, and they didn't end up where I am. I just quit, y'know?"

He lifted his flask again only to remember it was empty. He was about to ask Arthur if he had any cash to spare when they were interrupted by a different waitress than before. This girl was still in high school and wore short blonde hair and a pair of plain glasses.

"Do you two know what you want or do you need some more time?"

She pulled out a pen and notebook.

@awshucks:

Arthur turned to the girl with the menu still in hand. He looked down at it for a few more moments before decided what he wanted to have.

"I'm ready to order. I'll have the waffle stack with the eggs.", he said as he looked back down at the menu in his hand.

@cutting_edge:

Edgar waited for the girl to look at him before making his order.

"Grits."

The orders were both recorded and ripped from the notebook. Before delivering them to the kitchen she looked and saw that Arthur's glass was only partially full.

"You look like you could use a refill, what were you drinking sir?"

@awshucks:

Arthur looks back up from the menu that he was reading as he hear's the girl ask her question. "Nothing that is on the menu, but I would like a a glass of orange juice with my meal", he said as he glances at Edgar.

@cutting_edge:

The girl nods and goes to get his OJ as Edgar leans onto the table and sighs.

"So, what brings you to town?"

@awshucks:

Arthur leans in slightly so that their discussion can be slightly more discreet. "If I tell you, can I be sure that it stays between you and I?"

@cutting_edge:

"Oh? Sure, man... Now I've got to know."

The old man listened intently.

@awshucks:

Arthur looked over his shoulder in order to make sure that no one else was ease dropping on their conversation. Afterwards, he turned back to Edgar.

"I'm here on 'superhero' business. I picked up some criminal activity where a group of thugs were selling stolen technology to local gang. They were without a doubt planning on using it for making weapons."

@cutting_edge:

Edgar nodded slowly, looking for any signs that the man wasn't being serious. He couldn't find any.

"Ahh, okay... So this gang, you're not talkin about street thugs. Are they terrorists or somethin?"

@awshucks:

Arthur looked around again so that he knew that the conversation was still private.

"The gang that I'm referring to are just some punks that figured having advanced technology would make their activities much easier. But the real threat is technology ending up in the black market. If it gets in their, any terrorist organization could by it, then mass produce it."

@cutting_edge:

"Well what are you gonna do about it, man?'

He leaned in even closer and whispered.

"I mean, what can you do..?"

Edgar jumped a bit as a bowl of grits clinked onto the table in front of him. He laughed and thanked the waitress as she gave Arthur his plate and his OJ.

"You boys holler if you need anything."

Edgar waited until she was dealing with another patron and then went back to his hushed tone while reaching for the sugar.

"Do you fly?"

@awshucks:

"In my suit I can", Arthur said as he started to pour maple syrup onto to his waffles. He reached for his orange juice as he used his other hand to pass the sugar to Edgar.

@cutting_edge:

"Thanks, man."

Edgar poured several packs of sugar into his grits and began mixing it with a spoon.

"So you must know a lot about technology, that's why you're after these guys. Sound like they don't stand a chance."

@awshucks:

"You're welcome, and I am a bit of a tech expert. Also, those kids don't stand much of a chance, but they are still a threat that I can't afford to overlook.", Arthur said as he began to eat his meal.

@cutting_edge:

Silence fell over the booth as Edgar too turned his focus to his food, savoring each spoonful and occasionally taking a glance at Arthur.

@awshucks:

"Are you OK?", Arthur said as he kept eating his food.

@cutting_edge: Garret walks into the Waffle House and see Arthur. He walks up with a smile on his face. "Hey Arthur! It's me Garret Gewitter, remember?" The boy chirps happily.

@tanakaclinkenbeard:

"Arthur turns to the boy and immediately recognizes him. "Oh yeah, you're that kid who was Tarvok's workshop in the deserert.", he said with a smile on his face.

Arthur glanced at Edgar who still wasn't making much eye contact. "So kid, what brings you here?", he asked with true interest.

@tanakaclinkenbeard: @cutting_edge:

"Is this one of your her- I mean, is this a friend of yours?"

Garret appeared as normal as Arthur had at first but perhaps he was remarkable as well.

@tanakaclinkenbeard: @awshucks:

"Yes, I a met him briefly during one of my travels. We got along pretty well." Arthur made sure that he kept out finer details of the circumstances of their meeting.

@awshucks: @cutting_edge: Garret smiles back. "I came here because I hear the waffles here were really good. He turn to look toward Edgar. "Who's your friend?"

@awshucks: @tanakaclinkenbeard:

"Well, the waffles here are good.", he says as he cuts himself another piece. "This is Edgar by the way", Arthur says as he motions towards him. "I met him here and we were just talking as you arrived. Would you like to sit with us?"

@tanakaclinkenbeard: @cutting_edge: "Sure!" The young mage place his things on the floor and sits in the booth. So what going on with you guys?

@awshucks: @tanakaclinkenbeard:

Arthur moves over on the booth to make more room for the young magic user. "Nothing much, just chatting. How is Tarvok by the way?"

@cutting_edge: "Oh I haven't seen him in a while. I just been training myself." He replied while using telekinesis to bring a menu to himself.

@tanakaclinkenbeard:

"Nice trick.", Arthur said as he witnessed Garret move the menu over with his magic. Edgar seemed rather shocked by this display of power, based on how wide his eyes had become.

@cutting_edge: (OCC:Sorry it took so long!)

Garret smiles a bit. "Thanks! It told me a while to get the hang of it!" He look down at the menu. "Hey Arthur? Other then waffles, what should I get?"

@tanakaclinkenbeard:

(OOC: No worries.)

Arthur looked back down at menu to refresh his memory. "I would recommend getting the omelet with hashbrowns on the side.", he said.

@cutting_edge: "Ok!" The boy ordered just that. As he waited for his food Garret looks toward Arthur. "Hey Arthur?" The young mage began to ask. "How long does it take to built your suits? And how do you built them? Do you infusion magic into in like I do with Blitzschieber?" He pats the untransformed sword-rifle at his side.

@tanakaclinkenbeard:

Arthur adjusted his position on his seat and faced Garret. "Based on the resources that I have, it typically takes 3-4 weeks to build each of my suits. The building process is along story, but I will get into that later on. And there is no magic in there suits, at least not to my knowledge.", Arthur said as he chuckled lightly.

Excuse me, may I speak to a server?

The Enigma enters the waffle house and would proceed silently over to a table. He would observe the menu in front of him. He began to run his finger down the menu and would tap a typing and would then look up towards the waitress that was waiting to take his order.

"Hello ma'am, may I please have a stack of blueberry pancakes with some strawberry syrup."

He would then place his thumb and his index finger together and with a quick snap, the waitress would then be wearing an iHOP outfit. Seemingly pleased, Jeremiah would then wait for his blueberry pancakes with strawberry syrup.

Glances over at stranger.

@cutting_edge: Dude my Computer acting up. Imma have to stop.

@tanakaclinkenbeard: I understand, I hope you work out the technical glitches soon.

This place still looks good.

The delightful smell of grilling breakfast sausage and freshly made waffles wafted outside the humble restaurant. It made the boy drool just thinking about what might be inside. His journey had been long and taxing. The complete nights were not so bad, and the sight of unobscured stars reminded him of home. The grass itched, and the passing rumble of cars and trucks often stirred his sleep, but otherwise it was a pleasant existence.

But the half nights, or worse, the quarter nights, the ones he couldn't quite remember, but somehow wished he could more completely forget, those haunted him. They left him weary and aching. All the worse when he half woke amidst the missing time, when he woke with the inexplicable feeling of a sullied soul, sunk deep, plaguing him. In those half waking hours he could see that muted world, grey and soundless, through his blind eye. The roiling world of souls adrift in a narrow sea reflecting back in on him as he stared out through a narrow opening, the world in a peephole miles away.

He woke up from those nights already walking. The soreness in his arms and legs, the blisters on his hands, the blood beneath his nails, they spoke of sins carried out, those still sleeping just beneath the skin, a thin veneer of voluntary ignorance standing between comprehension in the waking world and that of slumbering slaughter. But the boy did not want to know.

The boy just wanted pancakes. He drew open the door by grasping the handle with both hands and leaning back, the hydraulic mechanism keeping in the AC a bit too heavy for his arms alone. When he caught whiff of the savory-sweet smells within he nearly fainted straight away. His mouth watered at the scent, his stomach ached at the sight of the waffles piled high. The girl at the counter, no, the woman, was built like a truck. Her arms were thickly sheathed in hanging fat, and while they jiggled considerably as she moved about behind the counter there was also clearly a pillar of thick muscle buried beneath. Without looking up, she motioned to a stool by the counter, placing down a thin, laminated sheet in front of the boy as he hopped onto the stool. "Well, what can I getcha, hun?" The boy could only lick his lips in response. The platters on the menu stirred his hunger, but not more so than the plates set out for the guests all around him.

"I guess, uhmm... a single pancake?" he offered sheepishly, reaching into the tied cloth sack at his waist and withdrawing two crumpled green facsimiles of the honorable George Washington (a man he'd heard much about in his travels, when he'd asked) and two coins, one a shiny copper and the other a black, sticky affair laid over a man named "Jefferson" (who he had also heard about and quite liked).

She looked down at the boy, at his hair, knotted and thick with the wilderness where he made his bed. At his eyes, one blind and milky white, the other a deep ocean blue. She could only click her tongue against her cheek as she stared down into his face. "Okay hunny. Sho' thang." She wiped her hands on her apron, sliding the notepad back into the front pocket, its page empty and devoid of writing. "Gale baby, fix this boy up an All-Star Special, and don't skimp on the browns." She looked back into the young boy's one good working eye and smiled a hearty grin, heartier laughter spilling forth when drool ran down his chin. "Don' look so shocked, baby. We get hungrier mouths than yos wanderin' through here. Who would we be without a little o' God's mercy and charity in our hearts?"

The boy stared up at her as the younger, quicker Gale deposited the plates, heavy with their bounty, in front of him. He glanced from the dishes to the two ladies, at their kind, brown eyes and the shining chocolate skin. They seemed to him to glow, kindness radiating from their every gesture. Tears stung in his eyes as he seized the utensils, devouring what was on his plate, "thank yous' mumbled through mouthfuls of hash browns and bacon. Gale chuckled, and the bigger woman behind the counter took just one more glance of the boy wolfing down his meal before she moved on to the next customer. It was a glimmering moment of peace in a long journey of dark, horrid ordeals. It was a memory he'd come to treasure. One he would retreat to when his feet carried him down far darker streets, when his mind carried him into crevasses he would sooner have left unexplored.

Sits in a poorly lit booth beyond the other patrons. He's been there for hours nursing a half-empty cup of cold coffee. He's waiting for a friend, the only friend he's ever managed to truly trust. But what he doesnt know yet, doesnt realize, is that his friend, has run awful of the wrong type of people. The worst type of people. People with power and affluence.

But he doesnt know, so he continues to sit. Sit and wait for a friend who will never show.

@noah_noble: If you're looking for company. If not, ignore this post.

@themaskofmany:

In his gut, he already knows, but never the less Noah slides his phone a little closer and gently taps its shattered screen. Squinting as he scrolls to his messages trying to focus through the fractured veins sprawled out across its damaged surface.

"Dammit Ishmael. Where the hell are ya." An angered frown curled his partially split and injured lips. A bandaged finger continued to scroll through an almost non-existent contact list, stopping at a particular number before self-consciously dismissing it and once again pushing the phone further away in a bout of emotional, all be it quiet, turmoil.

"Relax kid. Never let em see ya shy away." Em referring to them, and them referring to any an everyone. Looking in the boys eyes whenever possible from beneath the black bill of his trademark ballcap. Taking up the fresh cup and nearly downing it in one go and returning his unfocused stare out the window towards the parking lot. "Whatareya doing here kid? Whatareya doing this for? Pouring coffee. Aint that a job for women?"His politically incorrect question was just who he was. It was ingrained in his DNA. It was also a conscious maneuver to shift the conversation back towards the young porter.

Leaning back deeper into the comfort of the booth with relaxed nonchalance in the absence of fear, in the presence of a perceived non-threat, Noah proceeded to remove his revolver from behind his back, from out of his waistband. Firmly setting it on the table before returning to his new cup of Joe and the inquisitive kid. Smirking as he replayed the young boy's offer of possible assistance. Glancing at the gun, then back at the face of innocence. "Can you...help me...well that depends kid. Can you shoot? Better yet. Can you kill?"