14633/Kiss My Grits

Kiss My Grits
Date of Scene:	12 December 2022
Location:	Mel's Diner - Breakstone
Synopsis:	Just a casual meeting between two persons in a diner.
Cast of Characters:	Blackout, Sarah Connor

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Blackout has posed:
Breakfast, the most important meal of the day. Breakfast for breakfast, breakfast for lunch, breakfast for dinner, breakfast for supper, doesn't matter, it's breakfast. Yet, it's still dark outside, early morning, so he's definitely going to have breakfast. That's what Marc is hungry for. His stomach rumbles. He steps in off the street pushing open the door, the little bell that hangs above the door gives a nice ring, and he's pointed to 'sit anywhere'. Sliding into one of the window side booths, Marc pulls the menu from the stack at the base of the table and will flip to the breakfast section. He mmmms as he reads over the choices and picks the lumberjack version of the breakfast platters. Pancakes, toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, ham, and grits. Because grits. He loves grits. He closes the menu and will glance around the diner in search of his area waitress. He's not impatient, yet, his stomach would argue otherwise.

Currently Marc is dressed in priest black. Black boots, black slacks, black long sleeved pull over mock turtle neck with a black jacket that was taken off at the door and cast to the other seat across from him in the booth. The material of the clothing is all uniform. Made from the same cloth. Which is very dense and fibers really cannot be discerned. But it looks stylish. His hair is nicely kept, and his dark green eyes are often alight with inspection and curiosity. He's also quick to smile, so when he makes eye contact with anyone, he will always offer a light smile of hello.

Sarah Connor has posed:
Monday. Everyone was back to work (in a roundabout way). And Sarah was back to her regular shift. Breakfast and lunch - the two most profitable tip-time of the day.

Grabbing up the coffee, she told Marie, "I've got him." Marie was on her break. Besides, something felt off with the new customer. No, not a terminator, but something. Maybe it's just his clothing? All black. Deeper that black. Which was in its own way peculiar.

Walking up to his booth, she plastered a smile on. "Coffee? Almost Christmas if you celebrate it. Some don't. And do you need time?"

Blackout has posed:
Marc takes note of the approaching waitress and he offers that subtle smile; trying not to smile like a moron, but happy that she's coming his way because he's starvin Marvin. He looks up and over to her as she gets within the table range. "Please..." he intones about the coffee. Then adds glancing down to her name badge then back into her eyes, "Sarah with an H. Way better than plain ole s.a.r.a." He spells out the other version then continues without segue, "I'd like the Lumberjack, scrambled, with grits, not hashbrowns. Oh, and a glass of water. Please."

Sarah Connor has posed:
"Grits you say?" Her smile went from plastered to something real for just a moment, and back to plastered, as she pours out his coffee. A couple of creams from her pocket, and she nodded to the sugar. "Usually people switch out the grits for something else. You're going to make our cook happy."

The cook was a big black man from the south.

Sarah meets his eyes without fear. "I didn't pick it. My parents did. But I agree. Two h's are better than one." A pause. "You're not from around here, are you?"

Blackout has posed:
His left arm (closest to her) will move to the back of the booth as he shifts her direction when she mentions the happiness of grits (at least by other people). His smile broadens. "Oddly enough, Alphabet City, Manhattan. I developed a taste for grits when I was working on my masters degree. My roommate was from the south. He convinced me that they were delicious with butter, milk, salt, and sugar.... Dan wasn't lying. I've been stuck on them since. Sort of like being stuck on the way people spell their names - regardless if it was their parents fault or not. I'm Marc. With a C. Short for Marcus; Not Mark with a K, the bible guy."

Sarah Connor has posed:
"Marc with a C? You don't say." For all she knew he could be lying, but her spidey sense told her he was telling the truth. Sarah had the most uncanny sense when people weren't telling the truth. "Unlike Luke who was born way after the apostles. By about 70 years, give or take a few."

"Marc with a c can get you in trouble." Another reason she liked Sarah with two h's. Though she really should change her name completely, rather than just the last name. She winks as she says that.

"I've gotten fond of tamales myself." She wrote his order down. "Anything else? Or will you decide later?"

Blackout has posed:
There's a subtle smirk when she lists his potential of being in trouble. He's had enough of that in his life. He is curious about the Luke statement, but will look that up on his phone in a few minutes. Though, for now, he's happy for her to tell him about tamales, "Water, lots of it. And; if I'm hungry after all that I ordered, maybe I'll have tamales. But right now, I'm good. Thank you."

He's expecting her to depart to turn in the order, maybe bring back his water request, and be off to do waitress things. But he wouldn't mind her return sooner than later. There's definitely something that he likes about her - maybe that she's easy on the eyes or she's just interesting. Either way, he's good.

Sarah Connor has posed:
She smirks, as if tempting him to look it up.

Her return was a little bit late, as one of the regulars had to pay and chat for a little bit. By that time his breakfast was ready. "Don't worry, Marie. You can take the tip if you're worried. I'll finish him."

Marie had three children at home, all of Santa's age. At this time of year, she tried to do extra shifts for presents. Meanwhile, in Sarah's home there was just the one child, and he had grown out of the magic of Christmas. Not that Sarah was very into that. When he was little they moved around alot - not sensible to have lots of toys and shit.

Bringing back his order, complete with a glass of water, she put them down, leaning in closer. "The cook says he made you a double portion. Though I'm not supposed to tell you." Sarah chuckled.

Blackout has posed:
Marc spent the time Sarah was away looking up bible Luke and reading briefly about his assumed life. Then he put his phone away and looked around the diner at the people. When that got old, he peered out the windows at the goings on outside.

Then Sarah came back. His anticipation for the food was clearly displayed on his face as she approached. Wider eyes, grumbly stomach, and then the unrolling of his flatware from the napkin (later put in his lap). "Oh dang, that's great. Thank him for me - rather, don't, because you're not supposed to tell me." Then as he turns his plate, He'll ask, "How about you. Where are you from? Not sure I can quite pick out the accent - if you have one at all." And he'll start the food prep, salting, cream, sugar, butter in the grits...

Sarah Connor has posed:
"Here and there. Mostly the south during the past few years." Numerous years. Almost half her life. And when she south, she meant really far south. Below the equator at times. "One of the beautiful things about being a waitress.. They are always needed, and you can travel. Not that I have gone around the world."

Sarah stood there awhile.

He's not a terminator. Too loose in temperament to be an FBI agent. Surely he couldn't be yet another SHIELD agent. (Hasn't she met all of them by now?!?) Really he could just be friendly. But Sarah always was suspicious. With reason.

Blackout has posed:
"That really is the best thing about being a waitress. You can live anywhere and still have a job. I'm guessing the only limiting factor is the language barrier. If you speak the language in a foreign land, you're in like Flint. If not, you're out like Mandela. I travel a bit. But only speak English. Which brings to mind a joke. What do you call a person who speaks 3 languages?.... Trilingual. What do you call a person who speaks 2 languages?.... bilingual. What do you call a person who speaks 1 language?.... American." He smiles, having told a joke and then he takes a few bites of the grits. She can tell that he likes them, it's hard for him not to make the mmmmm noise. Not too runny, not too spackle, just right.

Sarah Connor has posed:
"Ohhh, that hurts!" As Sarah laughs. She can't be too offended. "Let me guess.."

Sarah looked at Marc with her head at an angle. "I'm going to say, perhaps two languages? Creole?" She didn't have anything to base it on, other than his love of grits. But she was hoping for a better guess as to what he was. Her guess of Creole was a win-win either way.

Blackout has posed:
"Physics. That's really the only other language I speak. Which is universal. But doesn't translate well to people who don't speak it." Marc smiles and then takes another bite of various foods on his plate. Then drinks from the water. He's about half done with the coffee. Apparently not the biggest of coffee drinker. Just sipped on it to warm up. "If I spoke Creole, would that man I would have to say 'ostras' instead of oysters?"

Sarah Connor has posed:
"Depends. How much you wanted to hide your past, I guess. Some people tell tales to hide their identity. Or else they aren't the best language learners. Sometimes, they say, that the older that you are, the accents are harder to produce."

"Do you speak Creole?" Though he mentions Physics. Something that Sarah knows a fair bit about. At least one portion: Nuclear physics. Remembering she was supposed to be working, she decided to fill up the sugar, at the counter, beside his table. "What kind of physics do you do?"

Blackout has posed:
"Creole, not at all. But I do like Harry Connick Jr's music. As for the physics. I obtained a masters degree in physics years back and worked as a research assistant in a particle physics lab. We focused on dimensional physics trying to open a portal to a pocket dimension with which we could extract zero point energy. Also called 'Free Energy'. We were working to solve the energy crisis of the world. But, as with all great aspirations and the best laid plans of mice and men... things went horribly wrong. And then; I woke up about 10 years later."

Sarah Connor has posed:
"I like his songs too. Kind of watered down, at times." According to the original singers of those types of songs.

Sarah fills up one sugar container, while Marie picks up the extra tables as the diner begins to slow down for the quiet time before lunch. Listening to Marc. .. like *listening* to him. "Wait a minute.. you used a point to another dimension?" And then, "Woah, wait a minute. You don't remember anything?"

Blackout has posed:
There's a moment of reflection before Marc responds, "If you're asking if I dreamed while in a coma... they were weird dreams. Lots of shadows, shades, darkness. But nothing like the passage of time. Mostly a blur. But yeah, it was a pretty big culture shock coming back into the waking world. I would have never imagined that 10 years would be so different. But so many things happened, so much changed. Now, mind you, that was over a year ago. So I'm not still a stranger in a strange land. I'm just a guy that works as a physics tech at a local research lab. Nothing fancy."

Sarah Connor has posed:
"And yes, from what I was told, we opened a portal, it was unstable, and there was an explosion. Hence the coma."

Blackout has posed:
The terminators came from one point in time. But as she had been watching and figuring, it could be they came from alternate universes after one was defeated. But so far that was just a rumour.

"Shit." Sarah stood there, one hand in the sugars; one hand on the sugar container. "Fuck."

Sarah Connor has posed:
He's intrigued by her reaction, perhaps even enticed or attracted by it. He thinks she's empathizing with his situation. Or even considering and being sympathetic of just how bad it could be for him. "Yeah. But really, not that bad. I'm alive, awake and there was a great insurance settlement. Sadly, the experiment was a failure. The portal was instantly closed and they've since scrapped the idea for zero point energy. So, life goes on."

Blackout has posed:
"Huh? Oh. Yeah." Sarah began to fill the sugar container. "Such a weird thing. Glad you got some money."

No. That isn't what she was curious about. And definitely not the thing that had her cursing. The terminators came from the future, and no doubt they had figured out where the scientists had gone wrong. For all she knew, the alternate universes had their own way around that very thing, and used it to their own advantage.

That is to wipe out humanity and rise up victorious.

Fuck didn't even begin to cover it.

Sarah Connor has posed:
Marc eats a bit more. He was hungry. Now, he's sated. He settles back into the booth. Perhaps he realizes she's a bit more distracted by something beyond his story; something he said that triggered her to be in another moment and not the one that they were previously sharing. But it's all good, everyone has baggage. He offers a different subject and says, "How much do I owe ya?" while fishing for his wallet in his front left pocket. He pulls out a black wallet made of the same material that his clothing is made from, just a bit more rigid than the fabric of his shirt or slacks. He opens it to pull out cash.

Blackout has posed:
Quickly, Sarah set aside the sugars, and wrote his bill. Handing it to him. "Take it to Marie at the cash register." Mel's diner was one of the old types that took your bill up at the cash register. Even if it also took debit. "Nice to meet you, Marc."

Sarah Connor has posed:
"Great meeting you too, Sarah." He'll take the ticket, happy to maintain eye contact as he does. Then he will slide out of the booth. He'll grab his jacket and head to Marie at the register. He'll overpay, leaving a significant tip, and say, "Merry Christmas" as he heads out.