The evening air in Brooklyn was crisp, the fading sun casting an orange hue over the streets. Alastor, Rachel, and Jack stood in front of a modest diner, its neon sign flickering faintly in the twilight, casting a low glow on the pavement. The familiar hum of the city buzzed around them, muffled slightly by the cozy warmth escaping from the diner. The air was filled with the scent of frying food, strong coffee, and the underlying tang of old leather and grease. The clatter of plates, the hiss of the kitchen grill, and the murmur of nearby conversations created a welcoming, lived-in atmosphere.
The diner's exterior was modest, the windows smeared with the remnants of past storms. Inside, cracked vinyl booths lined the walls, and faded posters of jazz bands from another era hung crookedly. The lights were a little too dim, the shadows pooling in corners where the dust settled like old memories. A couple of patrons sat at the counter, a weathered man in a leather jacket hunched over a steaming mug, a young couple quietly sharing a plate of fries between them, their laughter interspersed with the soft clink of silverware.
Alastor hesitated for a moment, his eyes scanning the outside of the building. He hadn't been to a place like this before. The décor, so simple and worn, seemed to mock his polished, alien exterior. His gaze lingered on a cracked vinyl booth, its red color faded to a dull pink, and his expression, usually so controlled, looked slightly out of place in this familiar-yet-unfamiliar setting. The low murmur of voices from inside seemed to make the world feel smaller, more enclosed. For a brief moment, he wished for the vast emptiness of space instead of the chaos of people.
Rachel noticed. She leaned in slightly, her voice soft but teasing, as though she didn't want to call attention to it. "You okay?" she asked, her eyebrow arched as she glanced at him. "You look... well, like you've never been to a place like this."
Alastor blinked, his gaze shifting toward her. "I... suppose you could say that." He straightened himself, trying to mask the discomfort with a practiced smoothness. "Not exactly the kind of dining experience I'm accustomed to."
Rachel chuckled, her smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Yeah, I figured as much. You've been here three months, right?" Her tone was teasing but tinged with curiosity.
"Yes... just three," Alastor answered, the weight of those four months feeling much longer than it should. He shifted on his feet, suddenly acutely aware of his clothes, his body. The strange feeling of his earthly form seemed more foreign now than ever. And then there was Rachel—her proximity, the warmth of her teasing voice—it made his pulse quicken, unsettled in a way he couldn't quite explain. Mixed feelings clashed in him, pulling at something deep within, but he couldn't pinpoint what exactly it was.
Jack, oblivious to the subtle tension, nudged Alastor lightly with his elbow. "Hey, I'll catch you guys inside, just need to hit the bathroom."
Alastor nodded, his eyes following Jack as he disappeared inside, leaving him alone with Rachel. The sudden solitude, however, did nothing to ease the awkwardness he felt around her. The way she smiled, the way her eyes lingered—he couldn't quite shake the feeling that there was something unspoken between them, something he wasn't sure he wanted to face.
Together, they approached the door, the bell above it jingling softly as they stepped inside. A warm rush of air enveloped them as they entered the diner, and the low hum of conversation and the clatter of plates greeted their ears. The host behind the counter, a man with a weary but friendly smile, looked up from his notepad.
"Table for two?" he asked, his tone welcoming yet efficient.
"No, three, please," Rachel replied with a smile, her eyes briefly scanning the cozy interior.
The host nodded and led them to a booth at the back, tucked away from the more crowded area. As they slid into the seats, Rachel gave Alastor a teasing glance. "Comfortable?" she asked, her voice light but with a hint of amusement.
Alastor nodded stiffly, his eyes scanning the space. "It's... fine," he replied, though his gaze betrayed his discomfort with the worn, lived-in atmosphere. But it wasn't just the diner. It was Rachel. The way she made him feel—more aware of his own vulnerability than he ever was in the void of space—left him unsettled in a way he didn't know how to handle.
Rachel's gaze softened, and she folded her arms loosely across her chest, her stance casual but attentive. "I don't mean to pry, but... how do you even know how restaurants work? You're not from around here after all."
Alastor's smile faltered for a split second, the question catching him off guard. He cleared his throat, the words rehearsed but feeling strange in his mouth. "I do understand how they work... sort of. Just not in the same way as Earth's establishments, I suppose."
Rachel leaned forward slightly, intrigued, her fingers tapping lightly on her arm. "What do you mean?"
Alastor shifted his weight, his gaze drifting to the small crowd in the diner. A couple of men in well-worn coats sat hunched at the counter, their voices low but steady, the rhythmic clink of silverware punctuating their conversation. In the corner booth, a woman in thick scarves and boots laughed with her friend, both sipping mugs of coffee, her voice tinged with something familiar—comfort, maybe, or just the ease of being with someone who understood her. "Where I'm from... Levanzo, our methods of nourishment are very different. The 'meal' is more of a collective... experience. You don't sit down at a table to order something specific. It's more a matter of need than choice." He paused, his eyes flitting to a couple seated by the window, their conversation so easy, so natural. "But yes, I do understand the concept of a restaurant here... in theory."
Rachel tilted her head slightly, her curiosity piqued. "That sounds... really different. So, no menus? No waiting for the food to come?" she asked, leaning in just a little closer, her tone soft and probing.
Alastor was aware of her proximity now, and it only added to the knot forming in his stomach. He fought to keep his voice steady, but there was a slight falter in his words as he continued. "No menus, no. Meals are... shared, in a way. It's not about sitting down and choosing a dish from a list. You simply gather when it's time. People come together... and the food is there. It's not about preference. It's just... what is needed." He shifted again, his eyes darting briefly to the table before him, unsure how much he should reveal. He didn't want her to think it sounded too strange.
Rachel seemed to consider this for a moment, a thoughtful expression crossing her face before she spoke again. "That's... honestly kind of fascinating. So, everyone just knows what they need? It sounds... a little intimate, actually."
Alastor's throat tightened at her words. He didn't think he'd ever described it that way, but somehow, with Rachel's voice softening, it felt like she had struck a chord inside him. A part of him resisted—he didn't want to let her in, not fully, not yet—but another part, a quieter part, seemed to crave the connection, the understanding she was offering.
"It's... not as personal as you might think," he replied quickly, his voice a little too sharp. "Just... efficient." He glanced up, meeting her gaze for a brief moment. There was something warm, something almost reassuring in her eyes that made him feel—unsettled, perhaps, or vulnerable. It was strange how easy she made it seem to just... talk.
Rachel didn't push further. Instead, she just smiled, a small, understanding smile, and let the topic fall into silence, though her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than usual. The awkwardness that hung between them felt palpable now—like two things that should fit together but weren't quite in place.
But then, just as he started to retreat back into his own thoughts, she spoke again, this time with a playful tilt in her voice. "Well, I'm glad you're willing to give Earth's version of dining a try. It's not as efficient, but I think you'll like it. At least... I hope so."
Alastor blinked, the shift in tone breaking the tension that had built between them. For a moment, he forgot about the oddness of the situation, about the unfamiliarity of the restaurant, and simply looked at her—really looked at her. The teasing light in her eyes, the way she leaned forward just a little as if trying to share something with him, felt oddly comforting.
He finally gave a small, genuine smile, the kind that didn't feel forced, the kind that seemed to come from a place of real connection. "I'll give it a try, then," he said quietly, feeling his guard slip just a little more. The words felt natural now, the act of sharing something personal with her didn't seem as uncomfortable. "I'm... willing to experience this, as you say. It's not so... terrible, after all."
Rachel's eyes widened slightly, her lips curving into a soft, thoughtful smile as she processed his words. She leaned back just a fraction, her gaze lingering on him with a mix of curiosity and quiet appreciation. She hadn't expected him to open up quite like that. After a beat, she tilted her head, a playful glint appearing in her eyes. "So, how long have you actually been on Earth, again?" she asked, her voice light but tinged with genuine interest.
"Three months," Alastor repeated, though now his attention was drawn to the diner's interior, the quiet hum of the place—a world that seemed to spin on its own, so ordinary yet so distant from the realms he'd once known.
Rachel raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Three months, and you're already navigating Earth pretty well. That's impressive."
Alastor's cheeks darkened, not quite from embarrassment, but from the strange feeling of being complimented for something so basic. "I... learn quickly. My race—Levanzonians—are capable of acquiring language upon contact with other beings. It's a sort of... instinct, I suppose."
Rachel's eyes widened, her curiosity now fully piqued. "That's... incredible," she said, leaning back, as though she was giving him space to explain more. "So, wait, you're telling me you can just learn any language instantly? What else can you do?"
Alastor hesitated, her sudden enthusiasm catching him off guard. "I... have certain abilities," he admitted, his tone careful.
"Certain abilities?" Rachel pressed, a playful glint in her eyes as she leaned forward slightly. "You mean the speed? The flying? Or how you're strong enough to punch a guy flying? Maybe even stop a car with your bare hands?"
Alastor blinked, momentarily thrown by how much she had already seen. "Those... yes, those are common traits among my kind," he said, his voice steady but cautious.
Rachel shook her head, a soft laugh escaping her lips, though her eyes betrayed her awe. "Okay, seriously, you're like... Superman but real. That's insane."
Alastor tilted his head slightly. "Superman? Is he a... well-known warrior on Earth?"
Rachel laughed again, louder this time, shaking her head. "Oh, we're gonna have to introduce you to some comic books later." But then her expression shifted, her curiosity giving way to a more serious question. "You said you've been here for four months... but how old are you, actually? I mean, you don't look a day over... 30, maybe?"
Alastor hesitated, just long enough for Rachel to notice, though she didn't comment. "Levanzonians age slower than humans," he said smoothly. "It's... part of our physiology. I may appear young to you, but I assure you, I have seen many years."
Rachel raised an eyebrow, leaning in slightly. "Okay, how many years are we talking here?"
Alastor smiled faintly, deftly deflecting. "More than you might expect."
Rachel sat back, clearly surprised. "Wait, so you're, what? Hundreds of years old? Thousands?"
Alastor nodded slowly. "Closer to the latter," he admitted softly.
Her jaw dropped. "You're thousands of years old?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "That's... I mean, you look amazing for your age!"
Alastor chuckled softly, though the sound didn't quite reach his eyes. Before Rachel could continue, she added, "Wait, that's not all, is it? What about the star thing? I've seen you use some kind of... energy, right? Like you're drawing power from the stars themselves."
Alastor's expression grew somber, his gaze turning distant. "That... is not a natural ability," he said quietly. "It was granted to me long ago, after I made a deal.
Rachel's curiosity shifted to awe, her voice lowering. "What kind of deal?"
"The kind that changes you forever," Alastor replied simply, his tone heavy with memory. "It was necessary, but the power I gained comes with... a price."
Rachel fell silent, her thoughts racing as she tried to process everything he had revealed. Alastor, sensing her unease, offered a small smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "It's a part of who I am now," he said softly. "But it is not all that I am."
Her lips curved into a gentle smile, the weight of the moment giving way to quiet admiration. For a brief moment, the awkwardness between them seemed to dissipate. She studied him thoughtfully before breaking the silence. "You're... really something else, Alastor. I can't imagine what it's like to come from somewhere so far away. But... I'm glad you're here."
Alastor blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in her tone. For all his experience, such words were still unfamiliar to him. "I... I'm glad to be here, too," he said, his voice softer than usual. He hesitated, as though choosing his words carefully. "It's not always easy, though. Being here... it's different."
Rachel noticed the change in his tone. Her expression softened, a note of concern creeping in. "What do you mean?" She couldn't help but ask. "Is there... something else you're not telling me?"
Alastor's gaze shifted, his eyes suddenly distant, as if the question had pried open something buried deep within him. He didn't respond immediately, and Rachel could feel the weight of his silence.
"I... I am the only one," Alastor finally said, his voice quieter than before. His eyes flicked to the corner of the diner, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve. "My entire race... Levanzonians... my family... they're all gone." His words were laced with an unexpected heaviness.
Rachel's breath caught in her throat. "Gone?" Her voice was barely a whisper. "What... happened?"
Alastor's gaze grew colder, his eyes reflecting the vast emptiness of time. "It's a long story, but... my planet was destroyed thousands of years ago. I was the last one... the only survivor." He paused, his gaze never meeting hers as he spoke. "I've been alone... for as long as I can remember."
Rachel's heart sank as she listened, her stomach turning with a mixture of sympathy and disbelief. She hadn't known. Hadn't even considered that someone could carry such a burden. She felt a deep ache for him, even though she had just met him.
"I can't imagine what that's like..." Rachel murmured, her voice soft. She reached across the table, placing a hand on his, the gesture tentative but sincere. "I'm sorry."
Alastor's eyes flickered to her hand but then quickly looked away, as though the comfort was something he wasn't used to receiving. But still, something in him stirred—something he couldn't quite name.
Rachel pressed on, her voice quiet. "You've been... alone all this time? How have you... done it? I mean, you've been through so much, right?"
Alastor's gaze hardened slightly, and he took a long, slow breath before responding. "My entire life... I've faced enemies. Countless wars. I've saved the universe more times than I care to count. But in all those battles, I forgot what it was like to have a family. To have something more than war, than duty." His fingers tightened around the edge of his cup, as if gripping onto something, anything. "On my planet, we were all warriors. It's all we knew."
Rachel sat in stunned silence, her mind racing with the weight of his words. She didn't know what to say. How could she even begin to process what he was telling her?
"I've forgotten... what it feels like to belong somewhere," Alastor continued, his voice low. "I've been alone for so long, that I... don't remember what it's like to have someone, to be part of something." He looked at Rachel now, a faint glimmer of vulnerability in his eyes that had been buried beneath years of hardened exterior.
Rachel swallowed, her hand still resting on his, though she wasn't sure if he even noticed. "That's... that's a lot to carry. I had no idea."
Alastor gave a small, bitter smile, his gaze flickering toward the diner window, where the world outside seemed to move on without him. "Most wouldn't. It's not something I speak of often." He paused, his tone softening. "But thank you... for listening."
Rachel's lips parted as if to respond, but the sound of the door opening behind her drew both of their gazes. Jack emerged from the restroom, his hands still damp from a quick rinse, and approached the table. He glanced between them, sensing the shift in the air but not fully understanding it.
"Everything good here?" Jack asked casually, sliding back into his seat.
Rachel hesitated, her eyes lingering on Alastor for a moment longer before she forced a small smile. "Yeah, just... talking."
Jack raised an eyebrow, clearly curious but deciding not to press further. "Alright, well, I hope you two saved some of the menu for me. I'm starving."
Alastor nodded, his features softening as the weight of the conversation ebbed slightly. He looked to Rachel, who gave him a subtle, reassuring smile as though silently promising not to pry further for now.
The waitress arrived at their table, her cheerful greeting cutting through the moment. She had a bright smile on her face, but there was something in her eyes as she glanced at Alastor—something a little more than professional. She lingered a moment longer than necessary, her gaze drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
"Hi, everyone! What can I get for you today?" she asked, her voice carrying a touch of breathiness.
Jack didn't notice, his attention already fixed on the menu. "I'll take the classic burger, medium rare," he said with a grin, then looked up at the waitress. "What about you, Rachel?"
Rachel, caught in the strange shift in the air, nodded distractedly. "The salmon sounds good," she replied quietly, her attention split between the waitress and Alastor.
The waitress smiled brightly, jotting their orders down. "Great choices!"
When her attention turned to Alastor, he raised an eyebrow in confusion, scanning the menu again, as if looking for something that made more sense to him. He wasn't entirely sure how to approach this situation. "I... don't fully understand the offerings here," he admitted, looking up at the waitress. "Would you recommend something, perhaps?"
The waitress's eyes sparkled at the attention, clearly delighted by his request. She leaned just a bit closer, her voice a little softer as she described the menu with an extra enthusiasm. "Well, if you're looking for something filling, our super cheeseburger is fantastic, and our fries are really popular too. It's all about the flavors here!" Her smile lingered a little longer than usual, her focus entirely on Alastor.
Jack chuckled under his breath, not catching the undercurrent in the exchange. "You're a natural at this, huh? Getting the royal treatment already."
Alastor, still puzzled by the food options, gave a polite smile, but his eyes darted to Jack and Rachel as if looking for reassurance. "Super cheeseburger sounds... acceptable. I shall have that. I think. With water please."
Rachel's gaze lingered on the waitress's soft focus on Alastor. She felt a small flare of discomfort. There was something in the way the woman acted, a certain level of familiarity that didn't seem earned, and Rachel couldn't help but feel a sting of jealousy. She quickly masked it with a forced smile and looked back at her menu.
The waitress, now fully focused on Alastor, gave a final approving nod before she jotted the order down. "Got it! I'll make sure to bring it out personally."
As the waitress turned to leave, Jack chuckled again. "You've got her wrapped around your finger already, huh?"
Alastor blinked in mild confusion, his smile faltering. "I... I suppose? It seems I have made an impression, though I am unsure how." He looked over at Rachel, unaware of the subtle tension she was trying to hide. "Is it always so... personal here?"
Rachel forced a casual laugh, though there was a slight edge to it. "Oh, yeah. Happens all the time," she said, trying to sound nonchalant.
Jack, still grinning, gave Alastor a playful nudge. "Guess you're just that charming, man. You've definitely got my approval."
Alastor returned a small smile, grateful for Jack's support, though he was still distracted by the oddness of the situation. He wasn't sure what to make of this attention. Rachel, on the other hand, couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit of irritation building up. She glanced at Alastor again, wondering how he could remain so unaffected by all of it.
Jack, oblivious to the undercurrents, shifted the conversation to something more casual, and the moment seemed to pass. But Rachel, still quietly struggling with the emotions she hadn't expected, couldn't shake the feeling that something about this whole dynamic was changing, and not entirely in the way she had hoped.