[center][b]Willard[/b][/center]

Willard got up this morning feeling rather sullen with a crick in his neck, and to make it worse his coffee maker was being quite an asshole and withholding the black life-blood from him. He left the small suburban house -or urban house he guessed, there wasn't really a traditional urban high-rise district in town- in hopes of heading to the diner. He donned his work jacket and grabbed his wallet as he closed the front door behind him.He began to walk, but his blood pressure rose as he passed that eccentric lads house. It never felt right passing it and the boy was definitely someone from the Society, but that boy never seemed hostile towards him, instead asking if he wanted to watch the game or some other. Willard declined of course, but he was relieved that aspect of his old life had passed him. 

[b]Diner[/b]
He opted to walk the short distance, get some exercise in those old legs of his. A morning fog hung around town, but the school kids and workmen hadn't filled the streets quite yet so getting to the diner was rather peaceful. He moved to open the glass doors of the diner when a ominous wind carrying a feral howl sent chills down his spine, every instinct in his body told him to leave town, that he didn't belong, that he was an outsider. He felt this before, and he dreaded to think the implications of what would come. They hadn't acted upon his arrival yet, he'd have time. They wouldn't know he was even here if he played his cards right. He entered the diner, waved to Becky and ordered the usual steak and grits with coffee for breakfast.