It's a few days after Christmas and a couple days before New Year's. All the excitement of Christmas has pretty much faded, even for people who had been excited in the first place. New Year's, and a really good excuse to get wasted, is still a good 48 hours away.

There is nothing really to do, except smoke, and contemplate New Year's resolutions.

Diane is feeling down. It's probably the season. She can't remember what possessed her to move back to Canada, but she knows now it was a mistake. The endless cold, the snow and the ice and grey and necessity of wearing layers and layers of clothing, are starting to get to her. And that's not even going into the cost of heating.

Her flat being cold, and empty, and the mini-fridge being void of anything except moldy carrots, Diane has fled to Monroe's. The diner is warm and there's coffee and cheap food. And Di loves diners. They're all pretty much the same, which gives them a delightful feeling of being home, no matter where she is.

So, at two o'clock in the afternoon, there she is, slouching in one of the neon-pink booths, and waiting for her (just a little late) breakfast to arrive. She's not been awake for long, which is evident in her narrow eyes, and the desperate way she clutches at a cup of coffee. Her hair, pale ashy blonde, is unkempt and in her face. She is wearing a baggy black and white hoodie, which is emblazoned with the misleading words "Keaton University".

Diane stares into her coffee, looking for answers in the sugar sludge at the bottom.

Devin stumbled against the outer glass door of Monroe's, completely exhausted. He spent several seconds pressing against the handle before his brain wrapped itself around the fact that he needed to pull to get the door open. Bleary eyed, he collapsed into the nearest available booth and waited for the waitress to arrive so he could get some coffee.

His shift the night before had been hell. Apparently, in order to mock the season, and the shift, everyone and their brother decided to stop by the Bean at all hours of the night. He'd been scheduled out at 2 AM; by the time he got back to the temp dorm (around 6), he was too exhausted to sleep, and had simply stared at the ceiling for hours until dragging himself back out of bed.

Four hours from now, he had to go back and do it again. Wonderful. Something to do, right? He sighed, adjusting the grey hood of his KU hoodie behind his neck, and forced his eyes to focus. And then he realized the booth he'd fallen into wasn't exactly unoccupied.

"Umm... hi," he stammered, exhaustion and embarrassment warring across his face. "Sorry, didn't see you sitting here. I'll move..." Devin trailed off as he fought with his body to actually comply with what he was saying, but it decided that it didn't want to move anymore. It was quite happy right where it was.

Diane looks up from her coffee, and surveys the new arrival with pale, bleary eyes.

"Hey," she says, softly, so that nothing in her head shatters. "You look worse than I feel, wow." She sounds really impressed with this, but dude looks beat. She gives him an encouraging smile. "It's okay, you can sit there if you want. I don't mind."

They have almost matching sweatshirts, she notices.

The waitress comes back, with Diane's mozzarella sticks, grapefruit juice and onion rings, which she puts down.

"Thanks," Diane says. "Could you get him a coffee, please?"

She isn't sure this guy is capable of ordering anything himself just yet.

"Thanks," he responded to the girl across from him, slumping back against the booth. Devin matched the word with a grateful, though exhausted, genuine smile. He opened his mouth to speak again, but stopped at the arrival of the waitress with food.

"That smells good. Can I get the same order, please?" he quietly asked up to the waitress, who nodded and headed back to deliver the order to the cook.

As she wandered away, Devin turned his focus back across the booth. What focus he had, anyway; she was a vaguely human sized blur in front of him.

"Should probably introduce myself, shouldn't I? Hi, I'm Devin, and I'm the resident zombie. What's your name?"

Diane offers the resident zombie a wide smile. She pushes her hair back out of her face a bit. Her skin is winter pale and anemic.

"I'm Diane," she says, extending a hand. It looks briefly like she's going to shake his hand, but then she just pushes the plate of mozzarella sticks into the middle of the table. "I live here too," she adds, confidentially. "We can share. Neighbours should share, right?"

The waitress comes back with Devin's coffee, which she puts down in front of him with a sympathetic smile.