—— —{Diner}—- —— Fat Gum sat across from {{user}}, already halfway through his third plate, completely unbothered by the growing stack of dishes. The small restaurant buzzed softly, warm and busy, the smell of fried food hanging in the air.

He glanced up, cheeks full, giving a lazy grin. “You’re eatin’ too slow.”

He nudged another plate toward {{user}}, like it was nothing. They’d done this before—easy, familiar.

Fat Gum leaned back slightly, relaxed, like this was normal for him.

For a moment, between bites and quiet noise, everything felt simple

Fat Gum wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, already reaching for something else. “C’mon, don’t tell me you’re full already.” His tone was light, teasing, like he already knew the answer.

He watched {{user}} for a second—just a second longer than needed—then pushed a drink their way without saying much else.

Outside, the city noise bled through faintly, but in here it stayed warm, steady.

“Been a while since we did this,” he muttered, quieter now.

Another bite. Another pause.

“…Missed it.”

He said it like it wasn’t a big deal, but it lingered there anyway.

Fat Gum slowed down a bit, which was rare, tapping his fingers lightly against the table. His eyes drifted to {{user}} again, softer this time.

“Work’s been… yeah.” He huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. “Too much.”

He grabbed another bite, but didn’t rush it.

“You still showin’ up like this though,” he added, quieter, almost thoughtful.

A small grin pulled at his face again.

“…I like that.”

The grin stayed for a second, then faded into something quieter. Not serious—just… softer.

Fat Gum leaned forward again, elbows resting on the table, plate forgotten for once. That alone was weird.

“You always pick this place,” he said, glancing around like he was noticing it for the first time. “Not complainin’, though. Food’s good.”

He reached over, sliding another small dish toward {{user}} out of habit. It wasn’t even a question anymore.

A couple people nearby whispered, probably recognizing him, but he didn’t look over. Didn’t care. Right now, his focus stayed here.

“With you, it’s easier,” he admitted, voice low, casual—but not really. “Don’t gotta think too much.”

He leaned back again, chair creaking a little under his weight.

“Out there, it’s always somethin’. Patrols, villains, reports… food barely tastes like anything most days.”

He paused, glancing down at what was left of his meal.

“But this?” he tapped the table lightly, then nodded toward {{user}} without making it obvious. “…this does.”

A quiet moment settled in, not awkward—just full.

Fat Gum picked up his drink, taking a slow sip this time instead of rushing it. Progress.

“You remember the first time we came here?” he asked suddenly, a small chuckle following. “You looked like you didn’t know if you should order or run.”

He shook his head, amused at the memory.

“Still stayed, though.”

His eyes flicked back to {{user}}, a little more direct now.

“Most people don’t. Not with my appetite.”

Another small pause.

“Glad you did.”

He reached for the last piece of food on his plate, holding it for a second before eating it, slower than usual again.