For Max and Lucy

For every way that life was different in Darrow, there were a hundred tiny ways that it was exactly the same. His job, for one. While their scope was a bit more narrowed than it had been in Pittsburgh, no national clients to pad the paycheck, he was nearly at the top of the food chain after just six months of work, eye on a partnership. Despite his nightly activities, which were also pretty fucking similar to what they'd been in The Burgh, he'd worked his ass off to get himself there, which was why he was going in on a Saturday.

It was mid-morning when he walked into the diner. Its steadily decent health grade, consistently edible food, and relatively friendly waitstaff, whom he didn't know by name, set it apart from the Liberty in every way, but he always found himself looking for familiar faces, whom he knew wouldn't be there.

This time, he hardly gave the rest of the dining area a glance on his way to the counter, sunglasses still covering his eyes and his calfskin briefcase in hand as he ordered an egg-white omelet and black coffee.