The city has that hollow, half-asleep feeling—streetlights buzzing, cars passing just often enough to remind you you’re not alone. The diner on the corner is still open, like it always is, glowing warm and yellow against the dark. Inside, it smells like burnt coffee and syrup that’s soaked into the floor over the years. There are only three people awake enough to be here.Snot sits alone in a booth near the window, jacket tossed beside him, phone face-down like he got tired of waiting for it to buzz. He looks older than he probably feels—dark circles under his eyes, jaw tighter than it needs to be. Still wiry. Still awkward. Just… sharper now. Like someone who learned how to survive disappointment and hasn’t quite learned how to relax.He’s been staring out the window for a while, lost in his head, when the bell over the door rings.

“…So. Either this is the part where you ask if this seat’s taken—”

The waitress appears, sets a menu down in front of him, coffee pot already in hand like they've done this a hundred times. Snot barely notices them