He sits down in the booth with a long sigh, grateful to be in an easy, simple environment. After a full moon transformation he always feels like he's been rubbed against a cheese grater, his skin feels tight and sounds are always so much more intense.
"What?" He asks and then rubs a hand over his weary face. "Oh. A couple of times, all for stupid shit."
“Not when I’m caught in places that I’m not allowed to be in.” She smiles back at him, unsure if he’s just trying to put on a brave face for her. He’s a mess.
Their coffee comes and Lois unloads at least 5 packets of sugar into hers.
“Yeah, that’ll do it. I remember when I used to be able to sleep on a floor with no problems. Now? My back will be messed up for days. Getting older is great.”
“Nah, this is perfect,” she says before taking a sip. No creamer. Just black coffee and a lot of sugar.
Lois smirks at him. “You know what ‘chicks’ hate more than being asked their age? Being referred to as ‘chicks’.” She takes another sip. “I already told you though. 35.”
Richard snorts and rolls his eyes, "Sorry. Chicks, girls, women, dames, ladies, female presenting human beings. Whatever."
"And I'm sure you did but my brain is barely working." He says and takes a long sip of his black coffee. "I barely remember my own fucking age right now."
"If we were in an old detective novel you'd totally be a dame." He says with a little smile, "You'd be 'that crazy news hawk dame with a pistol in her purse.'"
Richard meanwhile orders some bacon and toast.
"Yeah 42, and mostly just to make sure I don't have to mock you for calling yourself old. I hate it when 20 somethings are like 'omg I'm sooooo old now'."
"Yeah exactly!" He says, a little more strength in his smile. "Although with your line of work and mentality maybe you'd be the detective in the story, that would be a cool twist."
He laughs and shakes his head.
"No, but you're not some dumb twenty something either. Thank God."
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"What?" He asks and then rubs a hand over his weary face. "Oh. A couple of times, all for stupid shit."
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He looks hungover and exhausted. A little piece of her that cares about him feels bad.
“Are you okay?” Lois asks quietly.
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"Do you get a bit of a pass on stuff like that because you're doing it for work?"
He looks up into her face and tries to give her an encouraging smile.
"Yeah, I am. Just exhausted and sore, I slept a bit on a cell bench so my neck is all fucked up."
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Their coffee comes and Lois unloads at least 5 packets of sugar into hers.
“Yeah, that’ll do it. I remember when I used to be able to sleep on a floor with no problems. Now? My back will be messed up for days. Getting older is great.”
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It's a little joke which means he must not be feeling like total death, although really it would take him dying to not make jokes.
"I know chicks hate this question, but how old are you?"
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Lois smirks at him. “You know what ‘chicks’ hate more than being asked their age? Being referred to as ‘chicks’.” She takes another sip. “I already told you though. 35.”
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"And I'm sure you did but my brain is barely working." He says and takes a long sip of his black coffee. "I barely remember my own fucking age right now."
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The waitress returns and Lois orders some pancakes, because why fucking not?
“42, right?” She asks Richard after the waitress leaves. “Why’d you ask my age?”
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Richard meanwhile orders some bacon and toast.
"Yeah 42, and mostly just to make sure I don't have to mock you for calling yourself old. I hate it when 20 somethings are like 'omg I'm sooooo old now'."
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Looking up, she blinks at him, her face serious now. “Are you saying that I’m old?”
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He laughs and shakes his head.
"No, but you're not some dumb twenty something either. Thank God."