“Mmm, I dunno,” Allan drawled, palms facing upward in an exaggerated shrug. There was literally zero chance of him ever cooking something successfully, but it was actually kind of fun to mess with Marian like this. The look on her face when he first mentioned making something himself was [i]so[/i] priceless, and he couldn’t help but try to elicit another similar response from her. Some good-natured teasing never hurt anybody, right? “I’ve actually been watching the cooking channel a lot and I’m pretty sure I could make one of those fancy-schmancy soufflés if I really tried.”

Just a few seconds later, Allan burst into a fit of thoroughly unmanly giggles. Yes, he was [i]that[/i] kind of guy. The kind who laughed so hard at his own jokes he couldn’t ever finish telling it. The thought of himself making a soufflé was so improbable, so absurd, that he just had to laugh. He didn’t want to look [i]too[/i] crazy, though, so he stifled his laughter the best he could, and crossed the room to Aria in a few long strides. Clapping his hands together in what he hoped was an apologetic gesture, Allan flashed her an endearingly lopsided smile.

“I’d love a short stack, and maybe a black coffee to go with it, if you’d be so kind. You’re the best, Aria.” Allan said, that smile on his face morphing into a shit-eating grin. However, his expression turned into one of mock indignation when Aria said he looked like a loser. He placed a hand over his heart, as if overcome with emotion. Two could play at that game, and Allan never was the one to back down from a challenge. Well… this wasn’t really a challenge, but his ego demanded he respond in kind.“That really hurts, Aria. I’m the coolest kid around! Everyone knows that! You know what? I take it back. You are [i]not[/i], in fact, the best.”

In spite of all this, Allan still made his way over to the booth where Marian was sitting. It was starting to get busy, the rest of the diner’s staff slowly but surely streaming in. He smoothly slipped into the booth, hands resting on the table, fingers steepled. Allan listened to her talk about the Finnigan job with an eyebrow raised. Of course, he’d heard about it. But that was Robert’s shtick, and intel-gathering wasn’t really his job. All Allan could do was hope that their glorious leader didn’t fuck things up, because if he did, it would no doubt be disastrous. Speaking of the devil, there he was right outside, throwing a slight wave their way. Allan returned the gesture, arching an eyebrow at his slightly ridiculous disguise.

“You’re right, he [i]was[/i] a creep. But he got what was coming to him.” Allan spoke up suddenly, deciding to make some small-talk as he turned back to Marian. Mindless chatter was his forte, after all. Talking about someone they just robbed was not the most exciting subject though, and he was more than glad when Marian changed the subject. Her stenographer comment brought Allan flashbacks of high school. Passing notes in class, slipping a love letter into your the star quarterback’s locker when no one was looking… Ah, teenage love. “Ooh, now I’m interested. A crush? Don’t be afraid, you can tell Papa Allan everything.”