Page 42 of Rogue’s Mark

"It’s still open?” she asks, eyebrows raised.

It sure is if you can call an old diner with no customers and one waitress open. Formica countertops, several booths, and a chalkboard listing a meat loaf special remind me of the days when the place would be so packed, there’d be a line.

The woman behind the counter looks surprised to see us walk in. She offers no greeting.

"Coffee please," Vi says.

"Same," I say.

When the coffee arrives, Vi wraps both hands around her mug. "Do you ever think about leaving?"

"Leaving what?"

"The Rot. Rothwell. All of it. Starting somewhere else entirely."

I think about it. "I guess. Every once in a while. You?"

She turns from the window. "I used to. When things were falling apart and it seemed like there was nothing left worth staying for. I thought about going somewhere no one knew my father's name."

"Why didn't you?"

"Well, running felt like giving up. Like admitting they were right about him." She shrugs one shoulder. "And because I'm stubborn."

"That you are."

She almost smiles. "What about you? After the shop. Why didn't you leave?"

I look at the specials board, which probably lists the same thing every day. Even so, I haven't had meat loaf in a long time.

"Same reason, I guess. It felt like letting them win."

"We have that in common."

"Don't let it go to your head."

She laughs her real laugh, same as with the Led Zeppelin song. The woman behind the counter glances over and looks away. She probably hasn’t heard laughter in a long time.

We both get the meat loaf. It's simple and good and we eat without talking much. At some point, I think about the empty wall between suites 410 and 414, and the fake firm, and the “ceiling,” and I realize Vi is probably thinking about the same things. We just don't say it.

After a while, she says: "Do you think we'll find him? The ceiling guy?”

"Yeah."

"You keep saying that," she says, resting her hand on her chin.

"Because I keep meaning it."

She looks at me across the table. "Can I ask, Rogue, why this matters to you? The ceiling, Voss, all of it. You could have just stayed out of it. Not gotten involved. Ya know?"

"Few reasons."

"The shop?"

I nod. "The shop. My father. Everything they took and walked away from. I wasn't ready to fight it until you showed up and were ready to fight for your dad. You led the way."

She goes quiet for a moment. Then: "I'm glad you're out here. With me."

“Same."