Laurel's alone in a booth, and if anyone were there, they'd probably tell her she was moping, but there isn't anyone here but the diner's owner and a couple of bored waiters, so she isn't moping. She picks up another fry from her plate and dips it in the shake, now almost as much out of habit as of neediness.

"You still do that?" comes a voice from out of nowhere - an achingly familiar voice.

Nyssa.

Laurel snaps to focus, and Nyssa emerges from farther down the aisle of booths, leather pants and jacket skintight and awkwardly floral blouse covering not quite enough skin to hide her bruises and scars.

Laurel gasps, emotions swell, and Nyssa smiles and slides into the booth, partaking in Laurel's midnight snack without another word.

"How..." Laurel starts to inquire when the plate's getting close to clean.

"I've been...looking into a change of career."