Der Waffle Haus was unusually empty that morning.
Apart from two or three scattered patrons and one family towards the back, the biggest crowd could be found at one of the center booths near the counter.
Two blondes, one slouched so low she was nearly reclining and the other checking her face in a little compact,
sat with a cop and a lanky man one would've sworn had just crawled out of a gutter somewhere. Chances were he probably had.
The cop, the man, and the blonde with the compact occupied one side of the booth; the other girl sat alone across from them,
yet she was close enough to the edge that she could easily move if – when – another would join their party.
Her eyes were focused on the man, her lips curled back in a disgusted grimace as she watched him arguing with the cop.
His mouth was full of mashed-up, half-eaten pancakes, and when it opened again to shoot another smartassed comment towards the cop, she'd had enough.
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