The diner was unusually slow for a Saturday morning. With the holidays being over, business seem to taper off more than it normally did this January. The fact that the weatherman on channel 2 promised a big snowstorm later this afternoon probably had more to do with it than the slumping economy. The only customer in the place was a homeless man named George, who started every morning out with coffee and eggs he'd buy with the money he pan handled the day before. He was one of the few homeless who was tolerated around here, simply because he didn't fit the stereotype. No one really knew what he did with the money he gathered, but they knew it never went to booze, cigarettes or drugs and for that he was pretty well liked by the locals. He was a pleasant sort of fellow of modest build and middle aged with slightly graying, yet very long hair. A well combed beard hung to his waist, hiding his gentle, semi-toothless smile. He wore the same clothes every day, though they always seemed laundered and well kept. He didn't smell bad, nor did he speak with ignorance. And though his eyes were hidden behind outdated Varnet sunglasses, a person could tell they were kind when he glanced at them.
The waitress, Amanda, who had been working double shifts since Thanksgiving, sat on a stool near George, enjoying a cup of coffee and a much needed rest off of her feet. Her tiredness was written in the premature lines on her face though the stress never made it to her smile. Rose had barely found a seat before she was at the table greeting her with a hearty "Good Morning" and a fresh brewed pot of coffee. Filling one cup and leaving a menu for perusal, she returned to her coffee and continued her conversation with George.
After the usual amount of time, Amanda returned to Rose's table for her order and poured more coffee. "That woman just seems sad." She whispered to George upon her return. "I mean you can't really tell because she's wearing dark glasses, but I'd swear she was crying. Or trying not to cry."
George leaned in closer to Amanda and whispered, "No need to whisper, hun. She's got better hearing than dogs." He smiled at the confused waitress. "Isn't that right, Twila?" He directed to Rose in his normal voice.
"I don't know any Twila, old man." Rose barked without looking.
"Really?" he posed. "Then what name do you go by these days? Huh, Twila?"
"I told you, I don't know any Twila."
"Come on George," interrupted Amanda. "Leave the customers be or I'll have to have Ed see you out."
"It's okay, Amanda. I was headed out anyway." George left her the money for his bill plus a tip and got up to leave. Amanda came around the corner to help him find his way but he waved her off. "I know my way, sweetie. Thank you."
She opened her mouth in protest but the cook rang the bell before she could make a sound. She turned back to the kitchen to get the order. "You forgot the bacon on this plate, Ed."
George shuffled his way to Rose's table, causing her to turn her face to him. "I may be a just another blind man to you, but I see things, Twila. In a way most could never imagine. You of all people should understand what I mean." He smiled.
"Like I said. I'm not Twila and I haven't the slightest idea what your rambling about."
"You know Jason took Kaden to see Nickolas. You plan to have Tommy take you there. Do you not?" He took her silence as agreement. "Tommy is currently, how shall I put it? Indisposed at the moment."
"Indisposed? How do you..? Who are you?"
"Oh, do forgive my rudeness." He sat across from her. "My name is George. And I, like you, have a different way of seeing things."
"And what do you know about how I see things?"
"For you, it's in your touch. For me, it's... a little different."
"Okay. What exactly do you know about the man Jason abducted? Where, exactly, did he take him? Is he alive?"
"Why ask questions to which you already have the answers?"
She pursed her lips in fristration. "Okay. I'll play along for the moment. Why do you call me Twila?"
"Why? It's your name, dear."
"That's not my name. You have me confused with someone else."
"Oh, it may not be the one you go by now, but still yours."
"Seriously, who are you?"
"My name is George."
"Yeah I heard that. Who are you George? How do you know what you know?"
He smiled and leaned closer to her. "Mind if I tell you a little story?"
"Yes, I do." She leaned away from him.
"It won't take long." He reached his hand to the middle of the table. "We could do it the easy way, if you like." She shrunk back in her seat. "No? Words it is then." He leaned back in the seat to get comfortable, waved Amanda over with the coffee pot. "Let me first make clear to you that demons aren't born, they were once angels that got full of pride and rebellion. In their arrogance they thought they would usurp God by getting mankind to worship them."
"Yeah. So?"
"So. I know, regardless of what Adrian has told you, that you are no demon."
"How so?"
"Because I was there the night you were born."