The diner glowed a aesthetically pleasing pink as Logan walked through the doors with his shoulders drawn up to his neck, the bell going off to alert his presence to the waiting waiters. Logan walked himself to a empty booth.

The cushions rubbery and hard, coldness seeping into his body as he pulled his black sweater around himself tighter, eyes darting around the diner, a old habit of his. His shoe tapping against the floor to soothe his nerves.

Many avoided Logan and he could hear the diner workers scramble to talk to one and another, debating on who should be the one to wait on him.