There. Huh. Jess recognizes it as a background detail brought to the fore. She passes by it frequently. Once, a long time ago, she must have passed a judgment on it similar to the one that occurs to her now: Too empty to people watch in, not the kind of place she'd stop to have a meal. And possibly a front for something.

With her eyes adjusting to the light, it's brighter inside than it appears from the street. The vinyl seats are cracked and peeling; the ones that aren't don't match the others. The grime between the tiles behind the counter must have several years of history to it. The smell wafting from the kitchen could ease a hangover all on its own.

Jess slides in across from him. She focuses on him despite the atmosphere still soaking into her. Doesn't want him to think she's impressed or anything.

"What's this place even called?"