Sure enough, the door opens as if they're entering the front foyer of Clark's house. He glances around the entrance way and then stops to listen
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Eventually, he parks just outside a small, diner-style restaurant. It's nothing fancy and relatively inexpensive, but he figures they'll have enough of a selection that Anna can get what she wants. It's also where Clark and his dad used to eat whenever they'd have to make a trip downtown.
As always, Anna responds to the door-getting with a mixture of graciousness and mild embarrassment.
The restaurant receives all the curious inspection of a dead girl who isn't quite sure she remembers what live restaurants are supposed to look like. It makes her seem rather daydreamy.
It's not a 'wait to be seated' rule establishment, so Clark selects a booth off to one side for them and gives the waitress a wide smile when she brings them menus.
"The burgers here are pretty good," he tells Anna once they've been left to make their decision. "The pie, not so much."
"And it's all your fault." She grins back. "For shame."
Whether out of comfort or a sense of propriety - perhaps both - Eights is sitting more or less like a normal person, having temporarily suppressed her tendency to perch.
"I'm all broken up about it, can't you tell?" Clark teases.
When Eights is ready, he signals the waitress over for them to give their orders and then grabs a newspaper from the main counter, flipping to the entertainment section.
Eights follows his recommendation and orders a burger, oddly shy.
(She's forgotten how to order food from someone she doesn't personally know.)
There's a bit of restless shifting as she tries to find a way to subtly, gracefully get her feet off the floor. There isn't one, and after a moment she gives up.
She looks to the side, raises her hand to her face as though to hide her mouth from view, then sighs and lowers it again.
"Mostly," says Anna with the air of one forced by circumstance to reveal truths she'd rather keep to herself. "Just a little restless, is all. I'm not used to being someplace I don't know anybody, y'know? I mean, not that I don't know anybody here, I know you, I just--" The hand comes up again and she trails off, shaking her head.
He nods slightly, but also frowns. He doesn't exactly know what she means. It wasn't quite the same for him when he was Downside, if only because he just didn't care at the time.
Clark will ignore the fact that he was also perfectly content not to deal with anyone but her while he was there, for the most part.
"Okay, well," he pauses as the waitress brings them their burgers and Clark smiles at her again in thanks, "we can leave whenever you want if you're uncomfortable. You just let me know when you've had enough."
Eights shakes her head, smiling. "Don't worry about it. I'll be fine. That's the point of the holiday, after all. Give us both some time to not be untouchable."
Eventually, he parks just outside a small, diner-style restaurant. It's nothing fancy and relatively inexpensive, but he figures they'll have enough of a selection that Anna can get what she wants. It's also where Clark and his dad used to eat whenever they'd have to make a trip downtown.
As always, he gets Anna's door for her.
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The restaurant receives all the curious inspection of a dead girl who isn't quite sure she remembers what live restaurants are supposed to look like. It makes her seem rather daydreamy.
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"The burgers here are pretty good," he tells Anna once they've been left to make their decision. "The pie, not so much."
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Whether out of comfort or a sense of propriety - perhaps both - Eights is sitting more or less like a normal person, having temporarily suppressed her tendency to perch.
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When Eights is ready, he signals the waitress over for them to give their orders and then grabs a newspaper from the main counter, flipping to the entertainment section.
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(She's forgotten how to order food from someone she doesn't personally know.)
There's a bit of restless shifting as she tries to find a way to subtly, gracefully get her feet off the floor. There isn't one, and after a moment she gives up.
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"We've got about an hour. The Metropolis Multiplex isn't too far from here."
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She looks to the side, raises her hand to her face as though to hide her mouth from view, then sighs and lowers it again.
"Mostly," says Anna with the air of one forced by circumstance to reveal truths she'd rather keep to herself. "Just a little restless, is all. I'm not used to being someplace I don't know anybody, y'know? I mean, not that I don't know anybody here, I know you, I just--" The hand comes up again and she trails off, shaking her head.
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Clark will ignore the fact that he was also perfectly content not to deal with anyone but her while he was there, for the most part.
"Anything I can do to help?"
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