At The Diner
Vincent strode into the diner with his hands stuffed in his pockets, seating himself at the end of the counter.
A waitress weaved her way over to him a moment later. "How you doin tod-- Oh hey! You... you're Vincent Amorason, from the F4, right?"
Vincent looked up from the scowl he'd been going over the menu with, trying to dissipate his scorn lest an innocent bystander be blown away by it. "Yes, that's..." Oh great, she his type too. Curves in the right places, a piercing or three to hint at some wilder side, and long hair. "..that's me." He managed a polite smile. It would have been a smile with a purpose, if not for his brother's words still twisting in his brain and stomach.
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