The working man quietly picked up another of the laminated menus and walked over to the table that his new customer had seated herself at. He walked out from behind the counter in a slower fashion, like someone who's making an active effort to stay upright. Regardless of his exhaustion, he simply walked out to meet this new guest in his establishment.

He simply slid it across the table to her. His voice carried his exhaustion as he spoke, though he still had that customer service smile. "How can I help you, ma'am?" He asked, as he pulled out his notepad and pencil. He then took a moment as he noticed her outfit, as the style seemed to remind him of something. He quickly shook it off, however, and quickly redirected his gaze from the woman, back to his notepad as he tried his best not to accidentally stare.

Not long after Sarina had sat herself down, she took a moment to take in her surroundings, anything that could potentially scream a red flag at her as the man from behind the counter had approached, she smiled at the guy as he slid over the laminated menu to her. Sarina didn’t want to seem rude towards him and hoped her tardiness was not an issue, just looking at him for a moment she could see a man that was tired, maybe not getting much sleep, that she could relate to all too well from her travels.

“Thank you, sir.” She politely replied as she picked up the menu and gave it a look over, she planned to keep it simple, she didn’t want to blow what little cash she had left, no matter how much or little she had, rationing such a resource when you can’t use a card was pivotal for her. “Can I have a grilled cheese with a Cappuccino please.” She then thought about asking if the man was okay, but refrained from doing so through her own fears.

"Oh, ye of little faith," Vincent said to Anita, grinning cockily as he sat back in his seat. He heard the bell ring and watched as a young woman entered the diner before taking a seat at one of the empty tables. Only when he was sure she wasn't listening did he continue, still speaking quietly enough for his friends to hear, "You all might not know this, but I've made a bit of a name for myself in the underground fighting scene. Got my first win at 14 and I haven’t lost yet."

Vincent listened intently to the man and his customer as they talked about the corrupt deputies and how they even wrongly arrested a man. He felt his eyebrow twitch in irritation, having dealt with his fair share of corrupt ‘law enforcement’ over the years. ”That said, I’ll be right back,” he told his friends as he squeezed out from his seat at the booth. He walked over to the diner worker as he took an order from woman who had just entered the diner. He leaned against a nearby table and crossed his arms as he asked, ”What’re they saying your kid did?”

The man turned, meeting Vincent's gaze. "... I'm just gonna assume you heard the conversation I just had with my friend there." The man said, clearly too tired for this. "They're callin' it felony vandalism. They're askin' me to fork over ten grand for them to drop the charges, otherwise my boy gets sent to prison. Which could be fifty grand in fines, and up to three years in prison. Not to mention the fact that he'd be a felon. All over some paint that he put on an empty billboard." He then pauses for a moment, as if realizing that he's talking to a complete stranger. "I'm sorry but... who are ya'? And more importantly, why do ya' ask?" He said, while he walked behind the counter, and passed a page from his notepad back through a window that led into the kitchen.

Meanwhile, the older man simply raised an eyebrow as he listened, turning his head so he could see this stranger. He seemed to be sizing up Vincent while he quietly sipped his coffee.

Vincent flashed the working man a grin. "Ah, don't mind me," he said as he pushed himself away from the table. "I'm just passing through, that's all. I'm sorry about what happened to your son. I've had my fair share of trouble with crooked cops and sheriffs, so I kinda get what you're going through."

With that, he patted the man's shoulder and walked past him as he added, "But, I wouldn't worry too much about it. I've got a feeling that everything's gonna turn out for the best." He looked over his shoulder at his companions as he said, "I'm gonna go out for a walk. Don't wait up for me, alright?" With a wave, he stepped out of the diner and took in a deep breath.

Though he seemed cool and collected, he was actually seething inside. What he told the guy running the diner about having his fair share of trouble with corrupt law enforcement was true. Throughout the years he had been wandering on his own, he had come across more than one crooked cop who thought they could extort something out of him while hiding behind their badge. Each and every time, however, he showed that those badges weren't as effective as shields as they looked. Unless someone stopped him, Vincent was fully prepared to take on the small town's entire sheriff's department on his own.

As he stepped outside, Vincent could see a few hundred yards away was the billboard in question. It was painted with primarily cyan, showing a mob standing up to a single person, who is painted in red hues with the words "Sic Semper Tyrannis" in black just above the image.

Inside, the man working just shook his head. "... Why do I get the feelin' he's about to do something stupid?" The old man just chuckled and shook his head. "Some folk just feel like they need to stand up to someone. And on occasion, they're right."