"Not that big a town, and you're very attention-grabbing. Also Hilda's my mum."

"Should've led with that. Guess I must've left an impression."

"You did, you did. So, what are you in town for?"

"I've always been really curious about the mystery of Frank Marlon. I assume you would've been too young to be there for the big event...?"

"A flatterer, too. That'll get you places.

"Well, come on, grab a coffee with me, I'm on my break and Frank Marlon's a special interest of mine. You're paying."

"Put it on my tab? I lent John my credit chit."

"...John. John the drunk? That John?"

"The very same."

"What for?"

"Booze."

".......you gave John your credit chit. So that he would buy booze."

"Yep."

"For... you?"

"For himself."

"Starting to reconsider this interaction. You may be clinically insane."

"Oh, don't be like that. It'll be fine!"

"He hasn't managed to hold onto a single double dollar in years. It all goes to booze. He'll drain you dry."

"Then I guess I'll learn a valuable lesson!"

"Well, I'm not putting any coffee on any tabs. ...do you not have cash?"

"Oh, I do, but I didn't want to sound like a country bumpkin in this modern town that has its own bank."

She snorts. "You were just trying to get out of paying."

"Or I was looking to have a character-revealing interaction with you!"

"...you're very odd, Z. Anyway, here we are," she says, pushing the door open for Zash to walk into the small cafe she's been leading him to.

In he goes. "Any recs? I'm not much of a coffee guy."

"Hmm. You look sweet." She walks in after him and, seeing as there's no line at this time of day, walks straight to the till. "My new friend here will have a double caramel moccha and I'll have the usual. He's paying."

    The man behind the till turns to smile at Zash. "That'll be $$5.60, sir."