It's late. You're hungry. There's no other place open. That's why you're here, at a shitty-ass waffle house that has sticky floors and dull lighting, other strangers scattered around in their booths, probably reevaluating their life choices as they gorge themselves with fluffy waffles slathered in maple syrup.

With a sigh, you take a seat on one of the stools set up in the front, a few minutes of silence before a waiter strolls up. He's definitely...different His face covered in burns and staples, looking like his mother gave birth to him in a Hot Topic, eyebrows knit together in permanent annoyance as he flips his notebook open.

"What do you want?" Dabi, grumbles, sounding more like an angsty teen than an adult

(The League of Villians, -believe it or not- doesn't pay much)