Aug 04, 2010 11:47
The front door had bells attached, which jingled when Sebastian pushed it open. The diner, described to him by Patrick Jane minutes earlier over the phone, was not what he had pictured. Smooth white surfaces, long counters and stools, women in uniforms with big hair and dark lipstick -- more evidence of the advanced future technology he was slowly becoming acclimated to.
Although he was having a difficult time grasping this sort of establishment's usefulness to human society.
Sebastian moved fluidly past the front counter, black polished shoes clicking on the linoleum. If he gathered stares it was because men in three piece Victorian suits did not usually frequent diners. (Still, he did notice one young waitress in particular delighted in watching him pass.) He paid none of the patrons or staff any mind.
Sebastian's eyes swept the booths, searching for the face of his master. Jane had not yet learned how easily his servant could be called -- just by saying his name -- and so currently they were locked in a vaguely amusing rigmarole of contacting each other via telephone. Calling collect on a pay phone had proved easy enough, and Jane indicated this location as a safe meeting place. And so here Sebastian was, after what seemed like two supremely brief visits to the jewelers Jane had ordered him to interrogate.
faustian!verse,
be vewy vewy quiet i'm hunting red johns,
tortured souls are the tastiest