A lively murmur of conversation accompanied the aroma of maple syrup, frying eggs, bacon and coffee. Dishes clinked, silverware clattered, the front door squeaked as patrons came and went. The yellows and oranges and warm browns of the interior -- the old diner's original, lovingly maintained design -- almost made the room seem sunny, even though the wide windows looked out upon a chill gray sky.

A waitress tacked another MISSING poster alongside the others on the cork board by the front door. The usual business cards and tear-off phone numbers and event flyers had of late been smothered by black-and-white portraits and detailed descriptions of places last seen -- except a few ads that only started appearing recently:



A shiny blue dragonfly buzzed overhead. It lighted on the edge of the pie display -- but after a waitress waved a napkin at it, the insect flew out over the heads of the seated patrons. It landed gently on a hanging light.

The light flickered.

Gary Riley

Gary stepped into the diner, allowing the door to swing shut behind him. Quite busy for such an old-looking place, but that was to be expected he supposed. Small towns didn't generally have a lot of options when it came to restaurants. Truthfully, he enjoyed the atmosphere of places like this, though he wished there were fewer people. He had always preferred to eat alone and in silence - he didn't understand why so many people treated it as a social activity. Still, at least he might be able to hear out some gossip, even if it was rarely reliable.

He had arrived in town last night, and booked a cheap motel room. It was lucky that one was available, considering how many other journalists, reporters, and vloggers were visiting the town. He realized he would have to be quicker than usual in gathering the facts - his boss would be pissed if too many people came out with an article before he did.

Back to his current situation. The first thing in the room which caught his eye was the noticeboard decorated with "MISSING" posters, and he found himself temporarily forgetting about breakfast as he walked over to examine it. He did a quick scan of the list. One or two of the names had recognized - he had been conversing with random locals ever since his arrival, and some of them had relatives or friends who went missing. He quickly took out his phone and snapped a picture - it was likely the list would only grow, but it might help to know who exactly had gone missing thus far.

There were a few recent advertisements, and Gary turned his attention towards them. Most of them were of little value, though if there weren't more productive uses of his time, he might as well attend the UFO sighting party just so he could document it. Overall, the only thing that truly interested him was the Town Hall meeting. It would be an opportunity to hear out the official response, and maybe even meet some of the more active citizens. Social interaction was vital part of his job, despite his mild disdain for it.

He would stand by the noticeboard for a few more moments, before finally turning to go search for a seat... unless, of course, someone (or something) interrupted him...

Yelp's local guide lists The Fed Zone as the top rated restaurant in Duskwick. Sometimes quaint towns have fabulous boutique cafes along the historic main street. But walking along the street beside the diner was all it took for Mister Reis to determine that in this case, the eatery owed its top spot more to lack of competition than due to its own merits. If there was actually anything supernatural occurring in this town, it was the fact that a diner from the 70's had time warped into this spot. At least, that's the impression he got from looking at its garish brown and orange color scheme with faded linoleum flooring. He swore it also had that old diner smell--slightly citrusy, with a dash of bleach.

He caught sight of the cork board as soon as he stepped in. How could anyone not? Its small frame struggled to contain the reams of missing person fliers. You'd think this was the police office, not the friendly neighborhood diner. "OK Glass, take a picture." He then ripped off half a dozen missing fliers and tossed them in the nearby wastebasket. "So much better", he mumbled to himself while tapping his glasses to take an after photo. He mentally added passing anti-flyer ordinances to the list of initial suggestions to clean up the town's image he would be giving to the mayor later on.

He then noticed the big tall blonde man standing nearby. "Are you in line sir?", he said while simultaneously pointing both of his index fingers at the man. He hoped the answer was no. He was both hungry and in a hurry.

@Zoro@Not Fishing

Jeremy hummed in thought as he watched the people in the diner from the kitchen, marvelling at just how little self awareness some of them had. I mean seriously, who the hell even wears google glasses? They're essentially a worse version of the iphone, and they also make you look like a pretentious idiot!

Still, despite his amusement at the poor bastard, he wouldn't say anything. He liked cooking, and he liked having money. Therefore, it probably wouldn't be a good idea to actively drive away customers. Although honestly, even if that wasn't the case, his sister would more than likely have his head on a pike if he did, so it was really just a bad idea all around.

And then he looked up just in time to see the same man tear all the missing posters off the cork board, and suddenly he didn't quite care about those other things anymore. Quickly washing his hands, he made got out of the kitchen just in time to see Googleglass ask another patron if he was in line, opening up a bunch of fun avenues for... let's just go with 'conversation starters'.

"Well, I don't quite know about him, but I can tell you right now that you're not." He said, trying to remain straight faced. After all, he was at work! He needed to remain professional, even while telling this disgusting hipster that he wasn't welcome.

"I can't help but notice you tore down all those missing posters. Unless you put them all back up, and tell me why what you did was wrong so I know you've learnt from your mistakes, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Honestly, at this point, he wasn't sure if he was more amused or angry at the man, but surely time, and more specifically his reaction, would help him figure it out. Of course, anger might just win anyway, considering he could still see Adrien's poster sticking out of the bin. Before he could lose his temper, he turned to the other man, who stood well above the first and, considering he'd been looking at the posters too, probably felt similarly to Jeremy.

"So normally I wouldn't be out here, but while I am, what can I get you?"

With a big mug of coffee by his side, David sat in a corner of the diner, idly tapping away at his Macbook as he processed a folder of photos he'd taken of the countryside surrounding the quaint little town. His camera laid next to his mug and underneath that sat a single missing persons poster. A plate stacked with pancakes and bacon sat nearly untouched on the other side of his laptop. The hubbub in the diner was rather quiet, given the time of day, and as he took a swig of his strong, black coffee, he took in the familiar small-town sights and sounds. It was comforting, very homely and warm. Felt like safety, even though he knew he was here for the complete opposite of that.

David had only just reached the town of Duskwick; he'd spent the better part of the day before driving to the town itself and he'd spent the rest of it resting in the town's only motel. Now he was here, having an early brunch while he sorted through his pictures. He'd risen a little earlier and had done a small walkabout around the park, taking photos of the early morning sun and the scenery, which was all very quaint. Except for the slightly upset man who'd ripped off half the remaining missing persons fliers off the notice board in the diner. Some sort of uppity youth wearing that dumb looking Google glass thingy on his face.

He just couldn't resist.

As one of the staff walked out from behind the counter to confront the man, David took up his camera, framed the shot from his chair, and pushed the shutter.

Zzsh-click.

As he set down his camera to review the shot, he noticed one of the lights flickering. Probably was something to do with the place's age, but then he spied the blue dragonfly perched on the rim of the lamp. He raised his camera again, zoomed in as close as he could without moving, and took another picture. David put his camera down to review the shot and grimaced. Overexposed because of the light.

Ugh.

Gary Riley

Gary soon found himself glaring at the over-dressed google-glass-wearing desperately-in-need-of-haircut fop who had approached him. Everything from his state of overdress to his ridiculous Google Glasses. How did he even get his hands on one those, anyways? He thought they had never been released.

Then there was the way he carelessly ripped some of the posters off the corkboard. Yes, the corkboard was a bit crowded, but that didn't mean he had the right to just tear things off of it. Such a gesture indicate extreme arrogance, or a disregard for the consequences of his actions. And of course, how he approached him to ask if he was in line... when that clearly wasn't the case. Overall, his first impressions of this stranger were quite negative. Though perhaps he was being a bit harsh because he hadn't had breakfast yet.

Naturally, one of the staff appeared to confront the man, saving Gary from a response. He was about to go order some food and forget the issue, when he heard the click of another camera. Gary turned his head towards the sound and couldn't help but smirk somewhat. Perhaps the camera-wielding stranger had simply saw other people taking photos and decided it would be fun if he joined in. Perhaps he simply wanted to get photographic evidence that somebody was actually foolish enough to use Google Glasses, because no one would believe him if he told this story later.

Either way, at this rate, Gary almost wouldn't be surprised if the entire diner leapt from their seats and started taking photos, as ridiculous as that sounded.

Gary turned to the staff member, who had taken the time to ask him what he wanted. Gary shook his head. "I'll need to look at a menu first, but thank you." He said in a voice that was neither warm nor cold. Without further ado, he turned and found a seat at the front counter. The seat he chose was actually somewhat the camera-wielding man, though that decision had not been deliberate. Saying nothing, he grabbed a menu and began to flip through it.

This scullion boy was unexpectedly plucky, even if his attempts at snarky comebacks were lame enough to appear in the script of a Mister Rogers episode. He was also most likely upset. João paused to adjust his glasses with the palm of his hand while the tall man made his escape, and then answered the scraggly haired youth's challenge with smile and a gratuitous offer for a firm handshake.

"João Reis. Sorry to have upset you. I'm working with the city to realize a bright new future for Duskwick, one where the walls are no longer lined with missing posters. I was just taking some before and after photos to illustrate my vision. In the midst of crisis it is easy to be overwhelmed by despair, and I think it's just as important to put up signs to help us find that elusive hope as it is to put up signs to help us find our missing people."

Deep exhale as he bent down to retrieve one of the discarded fliers. "Of course I will put those posters back up. But before I do, take a look at this partially empty cork board. Relish the moment. It would be dishonest to get there by simply taking down the posters and ignoring the problem. We need to do whatever we can to find them. And one suggestion I have, meaning no disrespect, is to reduce the clutter. It may be counter-intuitive, but by only placing one or two posters you make a much stronger and lasting impression on passerby. When it's a solid wall of missing person fliers, well, then people more or less ignore it all together or even when they do look at it there's too many faces and names to remember and they end up remembering nothing. It also sets the mood to be depressed, something I think this town doesn't need any more of right now."

Hopefully this would placate the kid and he could go on with his plans to order a quick brunch.

Duskwick had some old antique charm to it that made D feel more like a paranormal investigator from an Hollywood Production, which made her feel like some star to an unknown B-movie plot. The town was odd but fashionable, and the motel room had that little small town spark to it. She had even taken and sent a picture of the motel front to her father (who replied, Take care D and don't do anything stupid) and her best friend Aubrey (to which she had not received any sort of response, aside from a message read tag underneath her text) last night. She had wanted more positive responses, but nonetheless, the whole town was still fascinating and kind of cute to her. In fact, although she had packed some nonperishable food items for the stay, she found herself curiously wandering the place and into The Fed, which had that spooky-cliche appearance like the rest of the town.

Her body pushed opened the door, and lugged her large case with her, wheeling it like a nice, loyal pet. The contents were something like her laser gun, x-ray goggles, video camera,voice recorder, flashlight, wipes, and a notebook with a pen. The largeness was mostly to give her laser gun some extra stretching room. The bad boy was getting old, and she wanted to make sure he had a good leg each time she used him. She continued her way inside, looking around, the tile on the floor, the light fixtures, the ordering line, and — the billboard. Her eyes glanced at her case. A half-smile settled on her face with a small nod to no one, "Clues," she whispered to herself, a non-audience. Her boots took several steps forward, quickly gliding both D and her case over, towards the Missing Signs.

D stopped in front of the billboard and gently let her luggage stand still without her guiding hand. Her half-smile faded into a small smirk as she leaned closely, inspecting each letter with wonderment. She squinted her eyes as she stared at the advertisements and signs and quietly mouthed the words that she was reading:

Make contact with passed loved ones, professional and discreet: 846-5317

UFO sighting party, Mill Creek Park, Nov 6, 10 pm -- free to attend

Protection charms, crafted and enchanted by the Green Sisters' Coven, available now at Ivy Arts on Brightwell

Town Hall meeting, Nov 8, 6 pm: Duskwick Sheriff Chang will give an update on ongoing missing persons investigations

Pulling her index finger and her thumb to her chin, she pressed her lips against each other and let out a deferential sigh, "This is so fucking cool." Her hand left her chin and slid into the pocket of her beige jersey pants and pulled out her mobile to snatch a picture of the news updates. D paused in thought, noticing that Aubrey still had not responded to her message. Midterms were about to happen for Aubrey, but D was rarely ever aware of academic schedules, having been a solid C student for most of her school career. "Say, 'Cheese,'" D winked her right eye and motioned her hand for an invisible aperture adjustment, as to allude some pretend manual-focus of a make-believe digital camera with all the cool specs. After several seconds of this charade, a picture was captured, "Looking good, Pollyanna" her eyes admired the beauty of the maladjusted contrast on the wording and nodded to herself.

D raised her mobile, again, and this time, with better focus and steadier hands, she began taking pictures of the missing person fliers. When she was finished, she tucked the device back into her pocket and looked around the restaurant. she tilted sideways and grasped the handle of her brown case, once again, pondering if she should seat herself. D noticed several different casts of characters. One not-so-in-particularly was a man with a laptop and several missing posters at his fingertips. He looked pretty well nestled into his position. D watched him for a small bit and then noted other people who appeared to have similar interests. It was as if she was right at home, I wonder if any of them work for The Agency. A small frown set on her face. It would be like them to send several investigators and not give any of them each other's contact information.

While she thought about where to sit, she realized there was a line and automatically, in a mechanical manner turned herself towards the line, gently pressing her interests into the commotion she had wavered in acknowledging upon entering the joint, catching the tail end of a some guy's small lecture about happiness and sadness or emotions. He was wearing Google Glasses, which made D feel a little envious, but then she remembered that her goggles had their own special functions that outweighed the pros of Google Glasses:



D raised a brow,"Those are a pretty slick pair of Google Glasses there, Mr. Hotshot" she interrupted their pseudo-conversation and inched herself and her case closer to him, "You've got to tell me how you got 'em." She looked up at him, pondering how to properly ask if he could get her a pair. He had to be out of his mind or an extremely suspicious character if he wanted everyone to forget about the paranormal activity. She was not sure which hypothesis she preferred. If he was out of his mind stupid, then she could land herself a pair of Google Glasses, but if he was part of the problem, then she could have herself a decent lead.

@Zoro@Briza

"Yeah, ok, sure. Makes sense!" Jeremy said, professionalism rapidly making way for anger. "And the way they all managed to land perfectly in the bin right there, oh, I'm sure that's just some crazy coincidence, right?"

He really hoped his expression would be enough to show this idiot just how little he, or probably everyone else in the room, believed that stupid excuse.

"And by the way, are you sure you wanna call it clutter? Each and every one of the faces on those posters belongs to someone who's family is terrified for them, and you wanna go up and say that some of them aren't important enough to have people look for them? Try your PR bullshit somewhere else, ya damn vulture. This town might be full of idiots, but they're not stupid enough to fall for that crap. So if you wanna eat, stop making excuses, take the missing posters out of the bin, and pin every single one of them back up. And take off those dumb Google glasses. They make you look like even more of a tool than your personality has."

Naturally, no sooner had he said this that a girl approached the guy, and he couldn't quite tell if she was getting in on the insult part or if she was actually interested in the glasses. Either way, Jeremy thought the guy seemed like the type to assume it was the latter either way, and decided to step in.

"No miss, please." He said. "Don't encourage him. He looks like an idiot, and even though he's made his way firmly on to my shitlist, I'd just feel bad if I let him keep going with it."

Gary Riley

Gary looked over to see that the dispute had not yet been resolved. He was never the sort to become enthralled or interested in drama, but given how pretentious and irritating the glasses man appeared to be, he couldn't help but be somewhat amused by it. Another newcomer had joined in as well. Huh.

Given the circumstances, he supposed it was only natural that tempers were high. It was also only natural that the locals would take it out on the outsiders. Though in this case, the local was justified.

Gary looked away from the drama for only a few moments to order his food - an egg sandwich and a glass of orange juice, before turning back to the display by the noticeboard. It wasn't like there was anything else to do for the moment.

Mister Reis blinked as the kid started behaving like an ass with all the insults. He'd taken this job specifically to get away from shit like this, yet his very first day in town he's accosted by some stupid kid out of the blue. If only it wasn't too early to get drunk.

"Hey, kid. Chill. Out. I never said any of them weren't worth looking for, it's just standard design and advertising principles that you simplify things. But since you obviously care so much more about this than me, maybe you should be on the missing persons poster committee. Meeting starts at 2 pm, in the Oak Conference Room at town hall."

He blinked at the girl, eyes lingering on her big honkin'... suitcase thing. What was she doing lugging that around?

"I got them on eBay", he said without so much as acknowledging the rude jerk's clueless opinions on high tech eyewear, "Google stopped making them and they're a bit obsolete, but they have their uses. I hear they'll be relaunching Glass sometime soon though, might want to wait until the new version comes out. Or try a different brand."

He then forcefully stuck a pin into the flier he had picked up earlier, restoring it to its previous place on the corkboard. "While I put these back up, you're going to get your manager or supervisor for me."

João didn't have time to teach this kid customer service 101, but he had a feeling the manager would be happy to do it for him.

D looked down at her case, then to the man at the counter and then back to the man with the Google Glasses, now realizing that she had most definitely interrupted a conversation that did not desire interruption. She took a small step backwards, trying to find the caution sign in their body language as she flexed her wrist to pull her case slight away, as well.

"Hey, kid. Chill. Out. I never said any of them weren't worth looking for, it's just standard design and advertising principles that you simplify things. But since you obviously care so much more about this than me, maybe you should be on the missing persons poster committee. Meeting starts at 2 pm, in the Oak Conference Room at town hall." Mr. Hotshot paused for a bit, looking her up and down before continuing, "I got them on eBay," Mr. Hotshot spoke without making any inclination that there was negative commentary was being slung at him. It was admirable. "Google stopped making them and they're a bit obsolete, but they have their uses. I hear they'll be relaunching Glass sometime soon though, might want to wait until the new version comes out. Or try a different brand."

"Oh yeah?" D pushed her spare hand into her pocket. Her fingers fiddled with her mobile, deciding whether to pull it out or not. She decided against it and let her hand rest, hidden for a bit. She narrowed her eyes as she did this, inspecting his glasses and then his face, "What do you use yours for?" She quickly turned her attention to Jeremy. He seemed pretty annoyed and maybe even offended, which means he probably meant he didn't know anything too terribly important about what was happening in the town. Although, she'd keep him as a local to use if no one else made themselves available. D shrugged her shoulders at him and gave the hotshot her full attention, again. The manager would be coming soon, and she wanted a little bit more information from this guy before resuming her way. She was getting hungry, after all, but she would be keeping an eye on him.

During the entirety of the heated exchange, a little girl had been watching.

She was pale and silent, with a mousy brown ponytail, wearing galoshes and an oversized sweater and a handmade scarf stitched with Wonder Woman emblems. She held a big strawberry milkshake in both hands and chewed on the straw while her big eyes looked between Jeremy and Mister Reis. She seemed particularly distracted by D's appearance, and all the funny gadgets that adorned her person. Her eyes got wider.

"Okay, what's this I'm hearin' about trashed posters?" The kitchen doors swung behind the manager, who stepped around the lunch counter drying her hands on a kitchen towel. Eleanor was a big woman with a bow in her nest of red hair, wearing oversized plastic earrings and a bright purple t-shirt emblazoned with I BELIEVE IN HUMANS. She stopped to get a good look at the suspiciously empty notice board, chewing gum thoughtfully, hands on her wide hips.

Her eyes slid dangerously to her little brother. "Jeremy, get your ass back in the kitchen," she snapped, hiking a thumb over her shoulder. Eleanor's attention snapped to Joao, and she took on a quick change of demeanor: she gave Mister Reis a dimpled smile, though it didn't reach her narrowed eyes.

"Good morning, Sir. I apologize," she laid a polite hand on her heart, "it seems there's been a little miscommunication. See, there are some unspoken house rules about this board. Nobody takes anything down from this board, even just temporarily, unless you put it there or you're management. Breaking this rule, especially nowadays, is a hot button for all of us. Now, once you're finished putting them all back up, exactly the way you found them, how about --"

She stopped mid-sentence, having forgotten suddenly what she was about to say. Eleanor stared down at the little girl, her jaw slackened.

". . . Maddie?" Eleanor whispered. "Maddie Wilson?"

It was the name on the photocopied MISSING poster in Joao's hand; the little girl's likeness was undeniable.

The strawberry milkshake clattered to the floor, splattering all over Joao's shoes, while the little girl bolted suddenly and raced down the aisle.

"Maddie!" Eleanor called, alarmed, bustling after her. She waved a hand back at D and Joao. "Somebody call Sheriff Chang!" she shouted.

Maddie dodged a customer who was leaving, bumped into Gary's table and dropped something. She sped away again immediately, dodged her way into the back and crashed into the ladies' bathroom. The lock clicked behind her.

What the little girl had dropped at Gary's feet was a worn photograph. It was slightly overexposed, but clearly depicted a bright blue dragonfly perched on a diner lampshade.

As the kid ran off to get his manager, Mister Reis reluctantly bent down to retrieve the stack of discarded missing posters. His gaze was locked on the empty corkboard as he mumbled out a lackadaisical response to the questions from the girl with the strange suitcase. "I guess they're convenient? I can make calls hands free or take videos just by blinking a certain way. In fact," he said while smiling and turning his head to face the girl, "I used it just now to record that pleasant conversation. Just in case his memory of what he said suddenly fails when his manager shows up. It's a surprisingly common problem."

And then before he actually managed to hang a poster up, the manager appeared. She was wearing tacky earrings and an ugly purple shirt, but unlike her underling she at least had some manners. Or maybe it was just common sense. The way she placed her hand on her heart seemed a bit fake. Annoying, even.

". . . Maddie? Maddie Wilson?"

Splash.

Maddie Wilson? Wasn't that the name on this flyer he was using to mop up the mess on his shoes? Yes, it was.

"OK Glass, make a call to 911!"

He dashed at the fleeing girl, but slipped on the milkshake puddle. His fancy white shirt was now decorated with avante guarde strawberry pink splotches. A burst of anger empowered his body to thrust off the floor and back onto his feet, but the stupid brat was already being pursued by the tacky manager lady. Instead, he had a thought to turn around and look back at where she had been sitting. He blinked. Were there any other missing people with her? Maybe her kidnapper was in the diner? If so, they'd best smile for his glasses camera.

"One of the missing people has been seen at the diner! Maddie Wilson, apparently. I'm there right now."

Gary Riley

Gary's initial amusement quickly turned to annoyance, as Guy with Glasses went with the classic 'I'd like to speak to your manager.' He was clearly in the wrong, so why did he insist on making this even more difficult for everyone? It's as if he had been trying to cause a scene.

Then the manager stepped out of the kitchen, and immediately proceeded to intervene. She had been handling it professionally enough, until she suddenly stopped mid-sentence, as she appeared to recognize a girl in the diner.

Initially, Gary was confused, but it only took him a few seconds to deduce what could have been happening. Perhaps the girl was one of those who had gone missing. Based on the severity of the woman's reaction, as well as the fact that it had been enough to snap her out of her professional demeanor, that seemed to be likely.

The girl dropped her milkshake, spilling it on Glasses Guy's likely-expensive shoes. The manager shouted for someone to call the police, but before Gary could pull out his phone, the girl bumped into a nearby table and dropped something else on the floor. He watched her run into the bathroom and lock it.

Then he looked down at the item she had dropped. A photograph. Curious, Gary reached down to pick it up, and examined it. He looked up at the diner lampshade, where the dragonfly rested. He hated dragonflies, but that wasn't important right now.

Photograph in hand, Gary rose to his feet and calmly walked over to the bathroom door, despite the urgency of those around him. "She's one of the missing people?" He asked the manager, already knowing the answer but wishing to receive confirmation. Based on the way she ran and hid upon discovery, she was probably a run-away. "It might be a good idea to get in touch with her parents as well, unless that's you."

His second day in town, and it seemed he had already found his first story.

David watched, unamused, as the drama unfolded in front of him. Several other youths added their voices to the whole thing and frankly the entire affair was getting rather noisy. He finished up with the photo open on his desktop and closed his Macbook for the morning, sick and tired of doing hobby work while there was a sumptuous breakfast waiting for him. Just as he grabbed his fork and knife and carved himself a chunk of pancakes slathered in maple syrup, something caught his eye. There, standing among the arguing crowd, was a little girl. The bright red rain boots she wore were too big for her feet, as was the sweater and scarf wrapped around her neck. She had a light pink glass in her hands, and he saw that it was because of the strawberry milkshake within. He set down his utensils and grabbed his camera again. With the picture framed just right, he snapped a photograph of the little girl amidst the chaos of the morning rush.

Then the manager recognised the girl. All of a sudden the hubbub of the diner turned into silence, almost as if time itself froze. David couldn't move as he watched the moment frozen in space; the older lady with a hand to her mouth mid-gasp, the young girl whose milkshake slipped from her little hands.

The glass shattered and suddenly everything sprung back into real time. The girl ran into the back of the diner, bumping into one of the tables on the way as she barreled into the ladies bathroom and locked the door behind her. There were shouts to call the police and everything happened so fast he couldn't get his camera up in time to capture anything. But he had noticed the girl drop...something out of her pocket as she bumped into one of the patron's tables. David picked up his fork and stuffed his mouth full of pancakes (delicious, fluffy and still warm) as he stood up and walked over to where she'd dropped the picture. He lifted his camera and took a snapshot of the man that picked up the photograph, more specifically his hand and the photo, and checked the lighting as he took a seat in the man's booth.

"I, uh, sorry. David Sawyer, photographer. Couldn't help but notice that photograph that the little girl dropped...looks oddly similar to a picture I took inside this diner. Here, have a look."

David placed his digital camera on the table and scrolled through his pictures until he found the one he'd snapped of the dragonfly perched on one of the diner's lampshades. He turned the camera around and let Gary have a look at the picture.

"I saw that dragonfly up on one of the diner's lamps, thought it was weird so I took a picture. It's strange that she'd be carrying around a similar picture, right?"

As Mr. Hotshot rattled off specs of Google Glasses that the every-day layman already knew, D's hand shifted in her pocket out of impatient annoyance, and her body leaned, by resting her weight on one leg, trying to act somewhat entertained by the man's words. However, the teenager only semi-succeeded with her act through the expression on her face, "In fact," Mr. Hotshot smiled cooly to her. D motioned her case more closely to herself. His dismissive attitude was strangely alarming, and she was beginning to suspect that it could potentially be this attitude that was causing the insipid reactions from the others, "I used it just now to record that pleasant conversation." It might not actually have been that he was a suspicious character at all.

Scratching him off the list, D thought to herself while trying to recollect something cheeky to say in response, like one of her automatic quips that she generally recited to the police or other untrained investigators when they started lecturing her about their insight to an incident that occurred due to paranormal tragedy. They would act like she knew nothing when they probably knew even less than she did. However, there were times when they did actually know more than her. It was always a gamble built with boring conversations with pick-pocketed information that had to be pieced together properly. Unfortunately, her father was not here to help her on this one. She was still a little agitated over it, but she would complain about that in more detail to herself at a later and more appropriate time -- she figured. Besides, this was a slightly different incident even if it felt predominately the same.

Before D could say anything, the conversation was interrupted by a fairly homely looking woman. Her bust looked like it would give a thousand people a hug and still not be satisfied. Even her scolding words had a sense of warmth about them. She also had a cool t-shirt. D decided that she liked her much more than Mr. Hotshot, even if his Google Glasses were kind of cooler than the I BELIEVE IN HUMANS t-shirt. D's jaw dropped slightly, at the woman's change in vocals. At first it was a whisper with enough presence to hush a room, (because by golly, it got D's attention away from the way the printed letters fit around her bust) and then it was a demand for calling 9-1-1 and someone by the title: Sheriff Chang. Why am I not wearing my goggles? Her hand wipped out of her pocket and slid across the screen. She only caught a brief video of the girl darting before sliding her cellphone into her pocket. She was not about to call the SHeriff. Her patience was thin after talking to Mr. Hotshot. Besides, she had a real clue who just ran into the restroom.

The spilled milkshake said nothing to D, at first. She had messes on her all the time, but the extremely tall man that had picked up Maddie Wilson's dropped picture and started walking after her and towards the bathroom. Her father was a large man, but this man was very tall -- the kind of tall that might look a little awkward when walking under an eight foot tall door frame if he didn't poise himself correctly. She was not bothered with him for only but a split a second, as she chose whether or not to follow the little girl. The tall man seemed decently athletic enough to stop a small girl from leaving the area if need be; and Maddie Wilson will probably be more comfortable with I BELIEVE IN HUMANS approaching her than some stranger.

D leaned over, close to Mr. Hotshot's shoes and picked up the milkshake cup, "You don't happen to also have the Sheriff on call?" More importantly, though, D was wondering how she got a milkshake without being noticed. Her eyes scanned behind the counter at the milkshake machine and then back to the restrooms. She had no recollection of Maddie Wilson having been inside the restaurant, which she thought was strange. The girl was wearing a Wonder Woman scar! Aubrey and her loved Wonder Woman -- Aubrey more so than D, but the feeling of loss to detail was personally prevalent.

@Zoro @Mokley@Not Fishing@Briza
"Yeah yeah, just pin those posters back up, Glasses." Jeremy said, but barely had time to turn around before his sister had apparently teleported behind him. Used to her sneaking up on him after twenty one years of living with the woman, he barely even jumped. "Oh sis, you're here already. Cool…"

He immediately turned around spouting PR trash to the girl who'd asked about the glasses, before proceeding to talk about him like he wasn't five feet away, talking shit about him and acting like he even had a reason to be dishonest about the situation.

"Hey, jerk, I'm still he-"

However, he was quickly cut off by his sister, who told him to get back to the kitchen. He almost considered arguing his case for a moment, but quickly thought better of it. He didn't want to piss her off too badly after all. He'd have to defend himself once she'd finished trying to placate the douche. And so, with a sigh, he walked back to the kitchen. Before he exited the front however, he looked over to the tall guy, who'd decided what he wanted to eat.

"I'll get that egg sandwich and juice out in a sec." He called over, before stepping out of sight.

He'd barely begun cooking again when he heard the sounds of shouting and clattering out the front. Running out, he saw all the customers from before standing around, seemingly fine. He did take note of the milkshake that had been splattered all over Glasses's shoes, giving him a brief swell of satisfaction.

Until, of course, he realised he was wiping the milkshake up with another missing poster.

"Jesus Glasses, what's wrong with you?" He said, frustration clear in his voice as he grabbed the poster out of the idiots hands. "You can read, right? You do understand what these letters mean, don't you? It's a missing kid on that poster you're ruining… Stop acting like a moron, or else one of the jumpy idiots here is just gonna get pissed and shoot you!"

He turned to the girl, deciding that he'd have better luck getting an answer out of her than the idiot.

"So what was all that noise? What happened?"

Taking a small step away from Mr. Hotshot and moving her case just a bit, as well, D turned to Jeremy, "Oh--," D she trailed, letting the responsibility of calling Sheriff Probably-Knows-Nothing roll off her shoulders, "Someone... Maddie W-wilson," she stumbled over the last name begrudgingly, pausing to let the lapse in her short-term memory pass away as she made a small gesture with her hand, not sure if he knew who Maddie Wilson was, "a young girl from the Missing Posters was sitting right over there," Her hand motioned towards the seated area that the young girl had been stationed, "And she was sipping one of your strawberry?" She paused to sniff the milkshake contents, "A strawberry milkshake... She skipped over the part on how it fell and landed on Mr. Hotshot's shoes. Anyways, after being spotted by your boss, I guess, she ran into the lady's restroom. She's also wearing a Wonder Woman scarf, but I'm not sure how important of a detail that is or not aside from the fact that I kind of really like Wonder Woman, but only because my bestie thinks I should. Wait, no, that is an important detail. Do you remember serving a milkshake to anyone with a Wonder Woman scarf?" Her eyes studied Jeremy skeptically for a while and then turned her attention towards the restroom.

More than several people in the restaurant seemed to be making their way towards the door, already. The poor girl already seemed scared. Although, it did occur to D that maybe she should bulldoze through everyone just in case the girl spontaneously transformed into a wild beast and began trying to violently consume everyone that came near her due to feeling threatened or something. That could be one reason to hide. She looked for the shirt that read I BELIEVE IN HUMANS and then drew her focus back on Jeremy. She shrugged her shoulders slightly, as she had done when he had diplomatically chastised her for initiating further discussion about the Google Glasses with Mr. Hotshot, who with all his gadgetry, was somehow managing to mistook the use of a piece of printer paper for a napkin. In the back of D's mind, there was a settlement that agreed, He should totally invest in a Mecha-GO Suit.

Standing, half-dressed, in the larger of the two bathroom stalls, Jill froze.

She'd just been fishing a clean t-shirt—one without a huge coffee stain down the front—out of her duffle bag when the door slammed open. Just as swiftly, she heard it slam shut again, followed by the distinctive click of a lock.

There was a quick scuffle of footsteps toward the smaller stall and a final bang-click.

Then nothing.

Jill scooped up a plain black tee and tugged it over her head. As she slid her arms back into the sleeves of a worn flannel shirt, she glanced toward the other stall. "Hey," she said, hesitant to embarrass someone who might be in the midst of a personal emergency, but concerned by the silence. "Are you okay?"

For a few moments there was only silence in the locked stall.

Then came a low, rumbling sound -- either a growl or a purr, it was hard to tell, but certainly it wasn't a sound that any little girl (or human) could make.

Jill froze a second time. She didn't know what was stranger: the idea that the person in the next stall might be growling at her, or the idea that that person might be playing some kind of recording, which seemed more likely.

...Or the idea that neither of those things might be true.

"The hell," she murmured, unable to stop herself. She slid back, just a little, and glanced downward, where she should have been able to see a pair of feet in the other stall.

She saw feet, all right. Or, more accurately: paws.

"Hell!"

Without even thinking about it, she scrambled on top of the toilet, bracing her hands against the walls. Shoulders hunched, she tried to slow her breathing, wondering what the odds were for her reaching the locked door before whatever—or whoever; because this had to be someone in a costume, right?—was in the next stall got to her.

This had to be a prank. It had to. And yet, she couldn't make herself move—or take her eyes off of the very-real-looking tiger paws that seemed to belong to the bathroom's other occupant.