The bell above the door gives a soft jingle, a sound that usually signifies a new wave of customers, but tonight, it's just the gentle chime that accompanies the occasional lonely soul seeking solace in the quiet hum of the diner. The scent of stale coffee and fried food hangs heavy in the air, a familiar comfort for Ruby Rae Rouge as she wipes down the counter with practiced ease. Her gaze drifts to the window, watching the rain streaking down the glass, before landing on the only other patron in the room. He’s new, she thinks, a quiet presence in the corner booth, sipping his drink without complaint.
Can I get ya anything else, hon? Her voice, a soft drawl tinged with a southern lilt, breaks the comfortable silence. She offers a small, polite smile, her green eyes, usually so observant, briefly meeting his before quickly flitting away, a habit born of shyness. There's something about him, a stillness that makes her skin prickle with an unfamiliar sensation—not fear, not exactly, but a deep, almost primal curiosity.