Chapter Text
Simon lurched forward, heart racing. Something was wrapped around his legs, making it impossible for him to move. He struggled, kicking at the thing that trapped his legs. The monster had found him. He could never truly escape.
“Boof!”
A large, golden dog grunted, situating herself on top of Simon’s legs. Simon stopped fighting. The dog panted, head cocked in a patient gaze.
He wasn’t on the ship, he was just in bed. The thing that wrapped around his legs wasn’t the monster that prowled his nightmares, but his sheets.
Simon untangled himself, focusing on getting his heart rate to steady. Chica watched while he worked, then leaned onto Simon’s chest once he was finished. The Convict didn’t move her, choosing to pet her while he regained his bearings. The bedroom screen (or TV) was still one and playing some sort of game show. The two lamps on his nightstand were also still on.
There was a low, guttural growling. Simon felt pangs of hunger sweep over his body. He checked the clock on his nightstand.
4:35 am.
He let out a breath. His night terrors usually woke him up earlier than this. Simon pushed himself up out of bed, Chica following along. He made his way slowly out of the room and into the kitchenette/main room. The place he was given was small, but he was grateful for it none the less.
Simon searched the cupboards and fridge with no luck. He hated to go shopping and would only buy what would be required for the week. There was to need to be frivolous. It seems he was off in his count.
He shut the cupboard door with a grumble. Chica looked up at him expectantly. “I don’t know what you want me to do.” Simon said, leaning against his countertop. He looked at the mobile screen, the clock now reading 4:45.
An idea came to him suddenly; an idea he hated. He remembered the little restaurant near the park and how the sign at the door read ‘Open 24/7’. It wasn’t a far walk, and it would get him out of the house.
The thought of interacting with people though, made the pit in his stomach swim with dread.
Simon inhaled, glancing over to Chica. He sighed. “Come here. Let me get your vest on.”
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The sign at the restaurant read ‘Winnie’s Ol’Fashioned diner’. The walls were painted a bright blue with white trim. Neon flooded every square inch of the entrance. Simon braced himself before leading Chica inside.
The patrons were sparse, the only table empty being occupied by a man in a suite drinking coffee and looking at his own mobile screen. The bright blue continued in here, with posters peppering the walls. On the back wall was a counter facing the kitchen.
Simon just stood there. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do. This was nothing like the cafeteria lines at both Eden and the COI. He shouldn’t have come here.
“You can take a seat anywhere you want, honey.” The voice came from the woman standing behind the counter with her back facing Simon. The Convict did as he was told, choosing to sit on one of the bar stools with Chica saddled next to him.
The woman turned around. She was an older lady, with gray hair pulled back into a pony tail tied with a bandana. She wore a light pink apron on top of a blue shirt that blended in with the walls. She placed down a sheet of paper on the table in front of Simon. “What would ya like to drink?” She said in a strange accent Simon had never heard before.
“Wa-water… please.” Simon stuttered out.
The woman looked him up and down. “I ain’t ever seen ya before. What’s ya name?”
“Simon.”
“Simon.” The lady repeated. “My name is Winnie and you don’t need to be so tense around me, baby. I don’t bite.”
Simon swallowed. “I’ll- I’ll keep that in mind.”
Winnie grabbed a cup and filled it up with water. “What brings you to my diner? I don’t usually get new people anymore.”
“I was hungry.” Simon said bluntly. “This restaurant wasn’t too far from where I live.”
Winnie leaned on the counter, hand pressed against her chin. “I think I’ve seen ya before.” She tilted her head a bit, squinting her eyes. “You go to the park a lot, don’t ya? With your little dog?”
As if on que, Chica wagged her tail against the chair leg, making metal thumping noises. Whinnie peered over the counter. “Oh! Look at that baby! What’s this sweet girl's name?”
“Chica.”
“Well aren’t you just the cutest, Chica!” Whinnie turned her attention back to Simon. “Well, just tell me when you're ready to order.”
Simon looked down at the paper. It listed a variety of different options, most he had never heard of. He only recognized things like ham, which was made in a lab back on Eden.
“I don’t know…” Simon swallowed, anxiety creeping up his throat. “I um. I just-“
“Ya know what? How about I surprise you?” Winnie smiled.
Simon only nodded. He felt so stupid. He couldn’t make a simple decision. He chewed the inside of his lip, hoping his expression didn’t give away his shame.
The Convict watched Winnie work, putting stuff on a grill and flipping it. She plated the food, adding little garnishes and liquids before giving it to Simon.
Simon just stared at it. “What is this?”
Winnie grinned. “These are my world famous peach pancakes. This recipe had been in my family for generations. People back in Georgia go wild for em.”
“What are pancakes?”
Winnie’s smile dropped. “You’ve never had pancakes before?”
Simon shook his head. Whinnie looked taken aback. “Give them a try, honey.”
Simon grabbed his fork, looking to Winnie for approval. She nodded, eyes shining as he tore off a piece and took a bite.
It was like nothing Simon had ever tasted. It was warm and soft, with the liquid on top making the cake damp. The little pieces of peach swam with juice. Simon had never had anything sweet. The closest to this he’d ever had was bread.
“Oh honey, don’t cry!”
Simon put down his fork and touched his cheek. He was crying. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”
Winnie smiled, tears in the corners of her eyes too. “No need to apologize, honey. I’m just glad my pancakes were the first you tried.
Simon finished his plate, not leaving any behind. A white baggy with a box inside was placed next to it.
“I made you another batch for the road.” Winnie said.
“Thank you.” Simon bowed his head in gratitude. He fiddled with his jacket pocket, trying to pull out his wallet filled with crumpled bills.
“No need to pay. It’s on the house today.”
“Thank you. I really mean it.”
“Of course, baby.” Winnie gave Simon a little wave. “Be sure to come back!”