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"Don't you want to eat something while we're here?"
Arthur flicked his fingers on the table like he was waving away John's helpful reminder. They still looked thin, the skin pale and tendons prominent. "No, I'm not hungry," he said, absurdly.
"We don't know where this meeting will take us. You should eat while you have the opportunity."
"I'm sure, John, I just– I'm focused on this, that's all."
A tall man with a hat low over his brow entered the diner and sat at the counter. Not him.
"What about your coffee?"
"What about it?"
"Don't you want to put cream in it?"
"What? No, I take my coffee black."
"Since when?"
"Since when? Since always, John."
"Well, what if I want to try it?"
"I didn't think you could taste food."
"... What if I want to smell it?"
"Just keep an eye out for Noel, okay? We have more important things to worry about right now."
Of course, the handsome detective with the tired but alert eyes and easy charm. John hadn't made up his mind whether they should trust him yet. There seemed to be too much he was keeping from them.
Although he was one to talk, wasn't he.
The coffee in Arthur's ceramic mug looked dark and strong, steaming invitingly on the table. It would give Arthur some needed energy and pick up his mood – John fluttered slightly, thinking of hearing Arthur's laugh or little snatches of song again, after all that time – but it didn’t look like it offered much substance. Not like the little pot of rich cream on the table.
He dumped the cream into the mug while Arthur was listening for the door. Arthur lifted the mug to his mouth and took a long burbling sip, smacking his lips.
John endured so much to keep his human alive.
"Did–"
"The waitress is coming back toward us."
Arthur muffled his complaint into his coffee.
"What else can I get for you, hun?"
The stout woman's tone was polite but distant, and even as she leaned her hip on the edge of their table, she was scanning her eyes over the rest of the diner.
"Nothing, thank you, just coffee for us," Arthur said crisply.
John was halfway to pinching his wrist for the slip up when a better idea came to him. Before the waitress could turn away, he pulled the open menu closer and pointed at an item. Stack of three flapjacks.
John didn't know what a flapjack was, but if it wasn't meat, he could probably cajole Arthur into eating some of it.
"Alright," the waitress said, reaching to take the menu from him. She hadn't noticed! Quietly, so that Arthur wouldn't hear, he tapped three times on the laminated paper.
That caught her attention. She looked from John's finger on the menu to Arthur's face and back with a quizzical expression. John tapped the words once more and gave her a thumbs-up.
"You got it, 'just coffee.'" The waitress took the menu and went on about her business. John was filled with such fondness for her that he wished he could kiss her hand.
"I don't see Noel anywhere yet," he said to distract from the momentary awkwardness.
It worked: "Where is he?" Arthur whispered.
The other diner patrons provided ample opportunity for study while they waited: at this time of day, mostly individuals rather than families, men in business suits eating in a hurry and older people gossiping at the counter. Every time the bell over the entrance rang, Arthur fidgeted impatiently until John confirmed, "Not him."
Eventually the waitress reemerged, with many plates stacked impressively across one arm and a carafe of coffee in the other hand. She refilled their mug and expertly deposited one of the dishes onto the table, sailing by with hardly a pause.
"Oh, Arthur, the waitress has set a plate in front of us!"
"Fuck's– Excuse me!" Arthur called after her, but she was already gone, head bent to talk with another customer at the other side of the room.
"It appears to be a stack of cakes soaked in some kind of syrup. There's a large pat of butter melting on top of the pile. They're browned on top and fluffy. Steam rises–"
"Yes, yes, alright. Christ." Arthur picked up the fork on his right side and felt along the surface of the table until his fingertips met the edge of the plate. "Just a bite, until Noel arrives."
"Enjoy, Arthur."