After some internal debate, you leave enough on your table to cover your meal and a generous tip and stand.
You notice both Red and Jayden shift in their seats. Ooh, they're paying attention. Well, of course they are. It would be kinda dumb for them to be stalking you and not paying attention.
You wander your way to Red's table and plop down in the second seat, aiming your brightest smile at him. "Just so you know, the stalker thing, it's not making you look so good." You lean forward and check out his meal. Cheapest thing on the menu, and water to drink. Those are some crappy expense accounts.
He clears his throat. He's not wearing anything remotely red, maybe that was supposed to hide him -- indigo button-down under a sort of baseball-like jacket, khaki-green pants and a matching messenger bag - he looks less Government Creepy and more Hipster. "Ah, hello-"
"Rhi. Hello, Red."
"Clifton. Cliff."
"You don't look like a Cliff." You always thought Cliffs had, well, more pronounced chins or something. "So, I'm going to make you a deal, since you're not shooting. We can play Truth - It's like Truth or Dare but you're less likely to end up on the top of a building without your pants. I ask a question, you answer. A real answer, an honest one. Then you ask me one. Pay for dessert and we can keep going."
Red looks at you for a minute. Probably trying to figure out if you're for real. Finally he sets the dessert menu down in front of you. "All right. What's your first question?"
"Tempest. What is it?" You look at the dessert menu and pick the richest thing there. He flags down a server and orders two of them.
"Tempest is a branch of Homeland Security," he begins, once the waiter is gone. "We handle unusual threats, the magical and the supernatural."
"So you're X-files." He still hasn't actually answered you, but he's getting closer, at least.
He clears his throat. "We don't want to believe, though. The truth isn't out there, it's right here."
You get the feeling he practices that one a lot.
"So, what does handle mean?"
"Usually, research. Sometimes we have to neutralize a particularly loud threat - magical serial killer, someone turning a town of people into their mind-controlled zombies, that sort of thing -- but for the most part, up until July, the community has been self-policing. They don't let the people around them know they exist, and we stay out of their hair."
Your stomach does a little loop and all that food you ate suddenly seems like a bad idea. Self-policing. Quiet. Invisible.
You have not been invisible.
"All right. Your turn." You're chewing over 'neutralize' but it can wait.
"You clearly know how to hide your - ahem - your wings. So why go out and be obvious at the diner?"
Because I didn't know I could when I started.
Nope. You said you'd answer honestly, but that's it. "Tips." You lift your chin at him like daring him to complain the way Dodger did.
He nods instead, like it's a good idea. "If you're willing to risk the attention--"
"There is a literal giant that was throwing things around. People are fighting with elves on tv. What happened to the giant, by the way? I don't think I'm that obvious, all things considered."
"But you, unlike a giant throwing rocks around, are approachable."
"I've noticed," you mutter. "Though someone approached the giant."
"The giant, is that your question?"
"He threw a rock at me."
Oops. You didn't really mean to say that.
"The creature that was fighting him managed to knock him into something like a coma. He's been transported to a holding facility and has yet to wake up. Of course, we're keeping him subdued and sedated for the moment." He smirks.
You feel a chill going down your back. He likes the idea of keeping the giant sedated.
Plus, "creature."
That was the ice-guy, right?
"My turn. Who else has approached you?"
"You assume someone has."
"Yes. You're not inobvious."
You can't really argue with that. You tick off on your fingers.
"Guy who wanted my number. Some sort of fan who saw me, uh, sprout wings. There was the guy who thought that I was like, an angel of God and the one that tried to steal some of my feathers. The weird one in the flannel shirt that you guys almost kidnapped. Someone who wanted my autograph. About thirty people who wanted selfies - no, more than that, now - with me. Some woman who thought I needed a teacher. There was that creepy guy who bought me a drink. Some guy who thought I ought to stop waiting tables and, I don't know, take these wings seriously or something. And you guys."
You're pretty sure that it's not only everyone and honest, but pretty well obfuscated.
Red nods sharply. "Dessert's almost here." He gestures at the waiter bringing two giant slices of chocolate cake. "Your turn."
[ ] This one's a Write-in
-[ ] With up to two more follow-up questions
[ ] and a caveat: What AREN'T you willing to answer?
-[ ] And at what point (if any) do you start lying?
-[ ] Or flee?
