[center][h3] [/h3][/center][h3][hr][color=#38547C]Keaton Plasse[/color][/h3][hr]
Archie led the way to a quaint little cafe that exuded an air of Chinese dim sum. Keaton had checked the place out once during the past week, mostly as a means to try all the food options The Promise had to offer. Though she hadn’t yet exhausted the list, she’d been pleased to find that decent food was not something the station lacked. At this point, Keaton wouldn’t have been surprised if there were powers out there that boosted cooking ability.

The last time she’d been here, she’d ordered a pretty standard fried rice dish, having decided that she’d judge by the basics. As an L.A. native, Keaton liked to think of herself as someone well-versed in cultural food, be that Mediterranean, Asian, or Middle Eastern. Finding that such options were available to her on The Promise, then, gave her a pang of nostalgia for the cheap Chinese and Mexican options she had at home. Even worse was knowing that she couldn’t call it home anymore; The Promise was where she was trapped until further notice, until she passed whatever tests and trials the system had in store for her and was branded as ‘safe for society.’ That her trust in this system was now wavering didn’t help her situation, especially since there seemed to be nothing the system could do to help win back her trust. After all, it’d been marketed to her as a safe place with a zero-death record, but none of the officers at the station seemed surprised by the corpse that had washed up. Rather, they seemed to go about it like routine, neither announcing it to the station’s occupants nor asking the public to help them find the killer. The whole situation was hushed up, shrouded in secrets that only helped to further Keaton’s distrust.

Sitting down at the aisle seat beside Natalie, Keaton watched as Archie poured Lynn a cup of tea, slightly surprised he didn’t fill the other two cups while he was at it. Was this a sign of solidarity, a show of camaraderie against Natalie and for Lynn? Or was it just a lack of culture and mannerisms, a sign of a hard and lonely childhood? A lack of culture, probably, since Keaton figured she was likely rather sheltered compared to her current companions. While she wouldn’t have called her childhood ideal, it was more happy than fraught, especially in memory. 

Picking up the teapot, Keaton filled the other two cups before setting the teapot aside and wrapping her fingers around the cup. It was warm, comforting even, for no apparent reason, but Keaton was fine with that for now. The station was behind her, hopefully, even if the corpse and the killer weren’t. 

The waiter dropped off menus, which Keaton opened, looking over her options. Maybe she’d order soup. She could do with something warm. A glance from Lynn, though, prompted her to stare at the girl, but Lynn closed her mouth, dropping her eyes to her menu. Did she have a question? Something to say? Whatever it was, she was nervous, judging by how she chewed her lip. Keaton would ask her later, after food. Ask her alone. She was jumpy, and Keaton did damage control better one-on-one. 

Archie opened the conversation with a question about their interviews, which Lynn answered, looking between the table. Her answer hinted that she’d been uncooperative, though Keaton opted to nod instead of smile at her note that she wasn’t provided a lawyer. Surely Lynn hadn’t expected a version of the American justice system up here, complete with judges and juries? At best, they had a room of surly-faced white-collars reviewing their cases. At worst, the police on the station were in charge of policing themselves.

“My interview went fine. I went last, so they already had a narrative in mind when they asked me questions. I mostly just agreed to whatever they were saying, and I recommended that they look at their files on me if they wanted more information,” Keaton said, shrugging. “The older dude that interviewed me said he didn’t read my file, and I believe him, but there’s no way they don’t have files on all of us.”

When the waiter arrived back, Keaton ordered a bowl of wonton soup before settling in and waiting for Natalie’s answer. They’d talked about their interviews briefly at the station, and Natalie said she’d left out the details, so hopefully she wouldn’t set Lynn off again. If anything, Keaton had been surprised at how little Natalie said she’d given away, considering her pro-police agenda the previous day. Perhaps she was more reasonable than Keaton had initially written her off as.