Faces from the mob earlier that night popped up here and there. A few came still red in the face, but the diner’s owner threw them out immediately. Within minutes the incident repeated itself -- this time young man escorted the unwanted with a shotgun in hand. The boy remained outside the door with that weapon and watched new patrons. Simon noticed another belligerent pacing the area, but the sight of the boy turned them away. Fortunately, the kid didn’t seem to pay him any mind. 

The night was still relatively young when Coltrane appeared. His ebony skin glowed in the diner’s light, neither warm nor cold, and his smile felt oddly genuine. Simon raised a hand to wave as he stood to greet him. 

“Sorry about disappearing like that. I’ve, well, there’s a lot to think about. The soldiers and everything,” Simon bit his lip, then glanced toward the diner’s door. “You hungry?” 

Coltrane initially rose his palm with the intent of waving away the offer, but a sudden pang in his stomach made him reconsider. "Now that I think, I've not ate much these past couple days." In truth, the beer he'd swallowed down earlier hadn't done him any favours either. 

"Anyway, things were a mess back there. Your guy, Remmy, he got knocked over the head and I had to get him back to my place," He rubbed two fingers against the spot where Remmy had been struck. ”Don’t worry though, he's rested up now and I passed him a little something to keep close if he ever runs into any trouble."

“He seems a little country to me. Tell me you gave’em a crossbow,” Simon said with a smirk. 

The two approached the diner eying the boy. Slow was the pace, as not to surprise, but not so much to suggest they had something to fear. It was a balancing act that felt all too close as the boy’s eyes began to dart. Up close Simon could clearly see the apron bound around his torso covered in smears of various colours. Obviously the kid was not the main cook since he played the bouncer, so maybe a jack of all trades. All trades but recognizing a threat, anyway. 

Offering a gentle smile, an act notably difficult now, Simon tilted his head. “Are you closed? We’re starving. Me more than him, really. He looks pretty hungry though, right?”

In an instant the boy snapped into action. His shoulders dropped and knees bent like a cat caught by surprise. The barrel of the shotgun arced from his shoulder to just under Simon’s chin, then as if to make a point, the boy pulled the pump. Yet, despite all the reactions the weapon trembled. Fear or inexperience or any other whys didn’t matter, because what frightened Simon more than a trained threat was an emotionally distraught kid with a weapon. 

A tear rolled down the boy’s chin as stammered his apology. He choked, cried, coughed, choked a bit more, but the shotgun remained fixed. The boy just apologized over and over to kid, Danny. Simon considered how quickly he might grab the shotgun without killing Coltrane or himself -- then the boy said another name. [I]Winni[/i].

 “Wait, who?” Simon exclaimed, his voice commanding and more harsh than intended. But the boy kept going in his nonsense. Simon set his jaw, a heat growing in his chest. “I said who! What happened to her? What happened to Winni? What did you do?”

“Woah, hold on!” Coltrane recoiled with surprise as the boy planted the shotgun against Simon’s chin, frozen for a half-moment as the sight triggered the resurgence of a childhood memory from half a lifetime ago. Yet, when he noticed Simon’s temper unexpectedly flaring and threatening to make throw the situation into the meat grinder, he quickly regained his composure and took on a calmer, more sympathetic tone, pressing a palm against Simon’s shoulder as he addressed the boy. “Calm... calm down, alright? Nobody needs to get hurt, we’re not after any trouble, just put the gun down...”

The firm hand did more for the boy than Simon. When the shotgun lowered, Simon still felt his heart beating hard at the top of his throat. A fire that intellect denied, but spirit embraced wholly. He glanced at Coltrane’s feet in shame.

“Shi...ah... I’m sorry,” the boy whimpered before composing himself. “I’m confused. No excuse, but that’s all I got. Ever since guards took my kin life’s been hell. Only way I can see her is in that fortress-hospital, even then with a buncha guns pointed at me. Then I come home and bricks are flyin’ through our windows, riots in the street... I just... I don’t know. I miss Danni. I miss Winni.” 

Just like that Simon’s eyes went wide. “I can’t believe it,” he laughed, too awe-struck to care about appropriate reponses. “I remember you. You were with us at the camp after Riley. The tent camp, remember? I’m Simon. That’s Coltrane. Winni and I...” He scrunched his brow and paused. “... talked. Listen, why don’t we all sit down. You give us the details, alright? Maybe we can help. That cool with you Trane?”

Coltrane gave his answer with a nod. “Yeah.”