Well right near the hospital and open twenty-four-seven, it is a favourite watering hole for the staff from Hillard. Usually the /only/ patrons at this time of night are from Hillard. Staff or visitors, anxious people awaiting news about loved ones, or what have you. Denny's, a rainbow of humanity wafts it's way through the doors; yet the terrible food and worse coffee stays the same. One of the few patrons tonight is one of Hillards finest, the triumph of Trauma, the scion of Surgery and the greatest with GSW's...! Alec Sainte Jean. Doctor, coffee drinker, more than half-asleep.

The doors from the foyer open, and admit a soft humming, as well as the girl it's presumably coming from. "Ain't Misbehavin'," sounds like. She checks the gumball machines for extra gum or abandoned coins with a swift, practised motion, gives the claw machine a quick once over for things someone could actually win, and returns her hands to her jacket pockets, flashing the waiter at the register a bright grin as she waltzes right past the wait-here sign and claims the back corner booth, with its almost panoramic view of the restaurant and the street outside. At midnight on a Thursday, apparently, they'll allow one girl to take up a spot that can accomodate eight or ten; at least, the staff show no signs of attempting to get her to move. She slips her backpack off, dropping it on the seat beside her, and pulls over a menu, giving it a somewhat perfunctory once over.

"Eh Doc, c'mon whycha go home fer chrissakes?" The surly night-cook from the back says through the little magic window slot where the food appears. "They werk ya too dem hart there I swearatcha." He says this and then mutters off into silence. The waitstaff, nowhere to be seen at the moment, seem to have been content to leave the man at the counter with his own pot of coffee. At the voice speaking to him, the man in the red-spotted lab coat looks up and says tiredly. "Ah, Ernie, you are a good man with the kitchen knife and spatula... much like myself with the scalpel and such. But I do only have an hour or so before I must back to work." The accent is french and thick... must be from the muddled head. But, glorious coffee will do it's trick as another cup is poured and drunk with mechanical efficiency.

Bernie regards the man with the accent curiously for a few moments before flipping her menu closed and sticking it into the wire holder. The backpack opens, and a notebook is withdrawn, and set on the table in front of her. She opens it and scans a few pages, apparently notes, while she waits for a waiter to arrive.

"Eh, well you can have your job Doc... if I screw it up, I just serve it anyways. HAR HAR HAR!" And that's really what it sounds like, 'Har har har.' Ernie, not know for his smooth laughter it seems. "Well, I 'ave no seen you mess up any of my orders Ernie." The doctor says with a lift of the cup in salute. After another sip, a hand goes through the hair, black, closely cropped, and he gives his head a shake as if to clear the cobwebs. Something tickles the back of his ear and he turns around to see the new face in the place. Good job there Alec, you're not with it at all tonight. Looking for a moment, the age calculation takes place and the thought is there... Thursday... midnight.. Okay. It takes more time than an average glance, but at that point the Doc realizes he's zoning and turns back to his coffee.

Bernie, sitting comfortably in the corner seat of the corner booth in the back of the restaurant, where she has a nice view of the whole place and the street outside, glances up from her notebook, brow furrowing. No waiter yet. Fine. Drastic measures must be taken. She shifts position, smirking just slightly, and puts her boots up on the corner of the table, ankles crossed. Then she pulls out a lighter, and picks up a napkin, looking at it speculatively. A waitress is hurrying over there within moments.

Glissa gets deposited in a booth on the opposite side of the aisle, and one back, from the woman with the lighter. Julie tugs hard and away from her mother with a squeal of delight, reaching towards the flicker of light. "Grooob!" the girl cries gleefully.

Sudden movement will catch anyones eye and for some reason Alec seems to find himself looking at the.. somewhat developed child again. Well, some will do anything for attention, though this waitress isn't know for her great people skills. Alec just sips his coffee and with a wry grin watches this little drama play out. The new arrival do get a glance and when the warcry is shouted Alec nearly chokes on his coffee. Splutter... cough Wheeze! "Eh Doc! Yer pay to drinkit not to breatheit! HAR HAR HAR!" Ernie shouts from the kitchen.

Glissa scoops Julie with some difficulty into the booth, more with bribes than muscle; the woman appears to have some back trouble that makes the child a handful. "No ice cream if you pester the nice people, Juli-o." She begins hauling toys out of her purse and settles in to wait for service, looking around at the room and its patrons with a vague smile.

Bernie looks startled at the little girl's swipe, and the lighter moves out of the child's range with surprising speed. "Whoa there, tiger," she exclaims, flicking the flame off deftly, "y'groob onta that, yer gonna hurtcherself." She flashes the child a grin, and the lighter disappears into a pocket as the Waitress reaches the table, looking put upon. Her nametag reads "Emma." "I'm sorry, miss," she begins, obviously about to say something about the boots and fire, before Bernie cheerfully interrupts, feet moving back to the floor, "Hey, 's a'ight, I'm a patient kina person anyhow, an' you're here now. I'd like a cuppa coffee, a slicea French Silk pie, an'... mozzarella sticks. Yeah? Thanks." At first Emma looks highly taken aback, but something makes her decide against bothering with her original plan of attack, and pulls out her little pad, taking the order down before she turns and half-stalks away. The Ragabash grins briefly, satisfied, and glances back over to the little girl and her keeper. Recognizing Glissa, she starts slightly. "Hey! 'sup?"

Alec, redfaced and sucking air into his lungs with some success just grabs a napkin and wipes himself off. Well scrubs are plentiful and his are already stained with worse than coffee. "Merci Ernie, I'll keep that in mind." A wave of the hand backwards towards the cook and Alec looks to the stalking Emma and the Groobing one. A smile for le petite enfant and he seems content to mull over his coffee once more.

Glissa peers at Bernie, trying to place her, and then her face freezes. A smile is quickly plastered over it. "Oh, hello there, didn't expect to, I mean, how are you!" Julie continues to bounce on her seat, tucked on the inside so she has to scramble past her Mum to escape.

"Groob," Julie says excitedly, tugging on Glissa's elbow.

Bernie smiles at Glissa, and shrugs, distracted momentarily by Alec's coffee mishap. "'s a'ight, goin' pretty well, act'ly..." She adjusts her glasses and adds, "Project's goin' well, y'mighta maybe heard. How's with you?"

"Ice cream please," Julie tells a patron promptly, a tired-looking man in a business suit who clutches his shabby briefcase tighter and hurries past.

Glissa smiles wanly. "Well enough," she offers. "Struggling with research and housework, all those boring things."

Alec tries out the word to himself quietly once or twice. "Groob." That seems to get a smile out of doc. A look to the Pot as it gets close to the bottom. Damn. A look to the watch as the hour gets closer to being done. As the group is the most interesting thing going on right now he takes his time wiping off his coffee stained scrubs as well as his face. Snippets of the conversation drift over to him, drowned out by the terrible-off-key-someone-please-put-him-out-of-our-misery 'singing' that Ernie does while doing dishes. Flagging down Emma he whispers something to her and with a half smile she returns shortly with a dish of something. Alec gets up and taking it and the coffee, he makes his way over to the Grooby one.

"Research's more fun'n housework," Bernie replies, leaning across her table toward the others, and adds to the kid, "...but ice cream's better'n botha 'em. Def'nitely. Though, ice cream an' research assa combo, tha's not bad..." She grins, and glances off toward the kitchen a second, both for the singing, and in hopes of catching a glimpse of her food.

Julie is beginning to stack the silverware in interesting shapes; her coloring book, crayons, and shake-a-poem set seem to be boring just now. A pack of plastic wolves is moved into position over Napkin Mountain.

Glissa smiles tiredly at Alec, wishing him a cordial, if curious, "Good evening."

"Bon Soir ladies," The Doctor greets with a tired smile of his own, the eyes however are genuine in the offer of it. "I could no help but hear the little misses Request for La Creme Glasse, so for one who would make me smile at this time of night I could do nothing else but offer her some." A look to himself betrays a slight embarrasment at his current coffee stained, slightly blood spattered state, but hey... late at night people do weird things. If an offer of Ice Cream is the strangest one all night, then hey, you're doing pretty good.

Bernie watches for a moment, grinning, and shakes her head, attention going back to the notebook. A pen is pulled from the spine, the page it turned to an only half-covered one, and she starts scribbling something down, pausing every so often to observe the restaurant, or stare into space a few seconds.

Glissa looks at Alec in concern. "Um, that's really nice, sir, and--" she raises her voice, but her tone's so motherly kind one could hardly think of it as a request, let alone a command, --"Mother Groob would feel so much better for tea and a small house salad, if you have a moment, Emma.... and, Sir? Are you all right? You seem to have cut yourself."

"Ah..well." Alec almost blushes when at that statement. It seems the Doctor is concerned about appearance... at least when it comes to being in front of women nearer to his own age. "It is no mine, thankfully or not as you could choose." The accent is a little less thick, but there none the less, definitely French. "The offer still stands though oui, if you approve of course."

Emma arrives with Bernie's order, setting it down less than entirely graciously. Despite this, Bernie favours her with a big, bright grin and a cheerfully sincere, "Thanks!" before going back to her scribbling. She brandishes a mozza stick in her non-writing hand, taking bites of the fried treat when the idea occurs to her.

"/Most/ kind," Glissa nearly gushes, only not quite enough to be annoying. "Kind indeed. Julie, what do we say?"

Julie's eyes go wide. "Maybe he's a groob," she whispers in awed tones.

Glissa turns and gives her daughter a suddenly severe look. "Juliet." It's a soft warning.

The girl ducks her head, mumbles something, and with a bit more prodding gives Alec a shy, "T'ank oo."

Alec's laugh is quiet but open. "De Rien petite belle." This said to little one while giving her the frozen treat. "And non, I am not a grub, or a 'groob', but thank you none the less." Alec's inflection is there... if one was looking, but then again it could just be the accent right? He smiles towards the younger woman who Glissa was talking with earlier, "Congratulations, I don't think I've seen Emma move quite as fast as you made her... I shall have to remember that trick."

Bernie glances up toward the other table as the sound of the inflection catches her attention; eyes only, head remaining down a bit, the better to focus on her notes. She looks the doctor over again, and returns to her meal, such as it is, for the time being.

Julie dives into the ice cream with all the enthusiasm of her age, capable of appreciating every nanosecond as fully and messily as possible. Glissa shoves the menus and the girl's coloring book out of the way and shakes her head with a smile. "You've just made an angel's night, sir. Thank you." She extends her hand. "Pardon me if I don't stand. Dr. Glissa Nicholson." She looks over towards Bernie again, a little furtively.

Not getting a response Alec shrugs and extends his own hand he takes the fellow Doctor's. "Alec Sainte Jean. I work Trauma over in Hillard." A nod of the head towards the joint.. it's still there, nobodies blown it up yet. "And I can remember when ice cream was better than anything myself, truly is there anything else beyond it?" His laugh is soft, his wording a little off but the point was made. "And I agree, un petite angel."

Julie looks over at Alec with big eyes and solemnly offers him a toy wolf.

Glissa smiles ruefully. "Wish I'd seen you the night Julie played the traditional 'eat inappropriate object' game of all three year olds."

The younger girl is apparently concentrating on what she's writing, and working somewhat behind the conversation. The earlier comment suddenly registers in her consciousness, and she looks up again, this time head as well as eyes, looking startled for a second. "Oh! Me? Sorry, thoughtcha were talkin' t' Dr. Nicholson, at first..." She shakes her head ruefully, "...maybe I need more coffee. An' yeah," the grin returns, if fleetingly, "works ev'ry time."

Alec says "Ah yes, well es no much fun, I dislike getting things out from stomachs." Alec's smile is rueful as he looks to the toy wolf. "Thank you chere but I already have one at home." Now to that a smile comes to his face that perhaps shouldn't be seen by a five year old, even if she knew what it meant. A look to Bernie and there's a smile enough there for her, "I'm sure it does."

Glissa blinks, a fleeting spasm of startlement that quickly is flushed away.

Bernie cocks her head slightly, noting the smile. Hmm. "Buildin' things outta th' tableware an' singin' loudly work pretty well, too. Gotta friend who tried tapdancin' on th' table, once, but they banned him from Denny's for a year, so I figure tha's not optimally effective..."

Glissa says in a low voice, left hand brushing absently at her wedding band, "You know, um, Doctor Ste. Jean...." she starts, then trails off and turns away, hurriedly thrusting a spoon back into Julie's hand. "Spoon, kiddo. Not fingers."

"Alors, but fingers taste make it taste so much better oui." Alec laughs and tries to juggle the two conversations at once. "Tap-table dancing? Vraiment? Well I can just imagine what Ernie would say to someone dancing on his tables." His voice raised just a little for Ernie to hear. "Unh." Thanks Ernie, great to see you can still grunt. Back to the Doctor, "Oui... you were saying?"

Glissa looks at her ring. "Well, um," she flushes. "I'm rather fond of the wolves out by the Park, you know, but keeping 'em in the /house/? A hybrid, I take it? They're just not domesticated, y'know. Be careful."

"He wasn' half-bad, either," Bernie muses mostly to herself, as she watches the other interaction curiously.

Alec chuckles. "Oui, you have to keep an eye on them, they'll change on you at a moments notice, unless of course you're family...." With that Alec seems to get this bizzare look on his face. Strange, till he reaches down and pulls out a pager. "Merde." He says as he looks at it. "I do apologize ladies, but I must be off." Indeed the approaching sound of sirens hearalds the doctors departure. "Ernie! Write it up for me sil vouz plait?!" "Sure thing doc." The gruff cook says. "Alors, if you would like to talk again Madame, please do not hesitate to call me." A card pulled and lain on the table. "Au revoir petite angel. To you as well oui." The last bit to Bernie.

Glissa wishes him a kindly, "Goodnight, and thanks again!" she pats Julie's hair.

Glissa slumps back against her seat, following his departure with concerned eyes as he walks away.

"G'night!" Bernie calls after him, with a light wave, before starting in on the cooling mozza sticks again. They're just no good if you let them get cold.

Alec pushes through both pairs of glass doors that sandwich the foyer, and out onto the street.

Glissa seems more troubled than when she came in. With a sigh, she turns back to her table to start mopping up the damage left by Hurricane Julie.

Bernie watches Glissa a few moments, considering. "...'s wrong?" she queries, after a bit.

Glissa starts at the query and smiles too brightly. "Well, you know, chocolate's so hard to get out of clothes." She dabs ineffectively at a spot of ice cream on Julie's bib.

"'s true," Bernie grants, apparently not going to pry. She sighs slightly, glancing at the watch attached to the strap of backpack as she finishes off the last cheesestick, and pulls the slice of pie toward her.

A plastic wolf suddenly wings its way across the aisle to land in the mozarella sticks.

Bernie blinks at the sailing toy, exclaiming, "Kamikaze wolf! Duck!" She does, in fact, duck, halfway down below table level. Peeking up, she asks, "...is it safe yet?"

Peels of small gruff laughter are accompanied by the mother's ineffectual attempts at sternness, rendered useless by her own stifled laughter. "Juliet. No tossing the wolves, they'll get seasick." She wraps her hands around Julie's before the next plastic missile can be lobbed.

Bernie grins, sitting up again and plucking the wolf from the plate. She stands, walking across the aisle to hand the toy back to the little girl, "...y'know, I only ever met one flyin' wolf, an' he got hurt, so you make sure these guys're careful, yeah? They could lose'n eye, or break a leg, an' then th' resta th' pack'd hafta carry him 'round on their backs 'til he got better, right?"

Julie's eyes widen. "Suffir not to sickness 'n deaf," she recites solemnly. Glissa looks worried .

Bernie hehs, glancing over to Glissa briefly, then back to the kid. "Oh, well, 's diff'rent, they jus' get hurt, right? Let 'em heal up, help catch some rabbits later. Then they c'n have some ice cream for d'ssert."

"Wolfs like ice cream," Julie replies agreeably. "Lotsa wolfs."

Glissa sighs and whispers, "I shouldn't have let Rik teach her so young. Children /will/ slip. We're working on it."

Bernie grins at Glissa, and just nods slightly. To Julie, she agrees, "With choc'late sauce, an' whipped cream an' cherries? Only I bet they get in trouble 'f they eat too mucha it, yeah? Gotta finish their meat first?"

Glissa, meanwhile, is finally rewarded for her patience with a cup of coffee which she did not order, and goes about negotiating for tea.

Julie burps loudly and enthusiastically at Bernie, and dissolves into another storm of giggles.

Signe pushes through the twin sets of double doors, eying the grappling toy machine briefly with a predator's gaze. The counter gets a simular look, but the waitress mopping it down decides to go back into the kitchen moments after the Get walks in the room. So, Signe meanders into the dining area. Spotting the little Gnawer after a doubletake, her boots let her drift in that direction.

Bernie giggles herself, and shakes her head, "...see what happens 'f th' ice cream gets eaten too fast? Can't have that, they'd be announcin' their presence ev'rytime they tried t' sneak up on somethin'..." She's standing beside Glissa and Julie's table, the corner table behind her sporting her backpack, coffee, an empty plate and a slice of pie. Presumably, that's her seat. Maybe it's a movement that catches her eye, or just a feeling, but she looks over then, and sees Signe. She flashes the Get a quick grin.

Glissa finishes mopping up the messy remains of a bowl of ice cream, which, along with some crayons and assorted plastic wolves, was scattered over much of her table. Julie sits caged on the inside of the bench with her mother, and, since Bernie has walked over to converse, Glissa looks up just in time to see the tall woman bearing down on them. She shoots Bernie a helpless and questioning glance.

Signe's answering grin to the Gnawer has less humor and more leer to it than most would find comfortable, but at least the Get looks to be in a good mood. Turning from Bernie to those at the table, the grin evaporates. From the expression of discomfort or displeasure that replaces that grin, Signe's not too big on kids. "Hey," she grates to Bernie, and asks, "Who's this?"

Yes, it's inevitable. The five year old takes charge with an authoritative and chocolate-smirched finger jabbed at Signe. "/Big/ Groob."

Glissa does her best to find her Avon-lady smile, and holds out her hand. "Dr. Professor I mean Nicholson, Glissa Nicholson, and how nice to meet one of Bernie's friends, Miss..." She looks Signe up and down and settles uneasily on, "Ma'am," which sounds even more ludicrous, considering their age difference.

"Hey," the Ragabash returns the greeting fairly cheerfully. "This's Dr. Nicholson, an' Juliet, I gather," she smiles at the little one with that comment, and then shrugs, glancing to the Get again, "Dr. Nicholson's from th' college, an' all."

Signe doesn't take the offered hand in greeting, choosig instead to study the woman from where she stands next to Bernie. The child's exclamation garners an even keener gaze through narrowed eyes. The Get's hackles would be up in any form where she had them, and this shows in her posture if not her fur. "College, huh. Family?" The question is again addressed to Bernie.

Something in Signe's manner brings out the mothering instincts, and Glissa is suddenly busy tucking Julie's coloring book and word puzzlegame away, and the scattered wolves. Her body is between Julie and the rest of the room, including then. As she turns to put things away, she happens to be making a barrier with her own body between them and the child.

"Mmmhmm," the cliath confirms, reaching up to push a stray curl back behind her ear. As always, it immediately returns to hanging half in her face. "Fam'ly. An' real helpful with somea my Projects, y'know? 's good folks." Bernie smiles reassuringly at Glissa.

Signe finally greets the Dr. with a simple nod. "Pleased," she says, and it's hard not to notice the pleasure she gets out of noticing how protective, or uncomfortable, she makes Glissa. Eventually, though, she gets bored with that and hits Bernie lightly on the side of the arm. In a low voice that tries very hard not to carry, she says, "I hear congrats are in order."

Glissa sets her credit card out in plain view on the table, reaches for her tea, and settles down. Julie is staring wide-eyed around her at the large woman, silent now and only squirming now and then.

The smile shades into a grin, a rather pleased and proud one, and the teenager nods. "Yup," she replies, tone a bit softer but still casual, "finished my coursea study, few days 'go, now. Thanks."

Unfortunately for Glissa, the waitstaff have conveniently disappeared, ever since the Get made her arrival. And, it looks like, while Signe lingers, they're content not to do any checking on this table. The Get nods to Bernie, her smile reappearing.

Glissa puts two and two together slowly, her thinking somewhat befuddled by the presence of the Get, and offers Bernie a watery but warm smile. "Allow me to offer mine as well, child," she says kindly.

Bernie beams at Glissa. "Thanks," she says again, and makes a little movement that's almost a bounce. "...been workin' on that s'gestion of yours, too," she adds to the professor, "...seems t' be goin' pretty well, so far."

Signe looks like she wants to ask what suggestion, but the Get is perceptive enough to know that the Gnawer most likely can't give the answer openly, here. Her frown reappears, and she begins to look restless again. The Gnawer's pie catches her eye, idly.

Glissa gives an uncertain laugh. "Yes, I /thought/ that might be your doing. Nicely played." Juliet continues to peer at the big woman. Children should not be this silent.

Signe looks back, drawn by Glissa's laugh. she catches Julie's eye and stares back at the child somewhat menacingly.

Bernie grins rather impishly and makes a bit of a bow. Eyeing the staring between the little one and the Ahroun, she suggests, "...so y'wanna sit down? I got pie." A vague gesture toward the other table.

Signe smiles at Bernie. "Hey, yeah," she says in an almost 'thank-you' kind of voice, but the Get doesn't quite move yet. No, Glissa is looked over again, and she asks, "What side of the family?"

Julie bristles, but abruptly cowers back behind Glissa, tugging her sweater. "Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Can we go now?" The meek woman actually musters a glare at the big Get.

Signe doesn't push the game too far, not with children. The grin resurfaces however, and the Get takes the two or three steps away from the table that will allow the woman to get up.

Bernie gives the two at the table a fleeting, vaguely apologetic look, and considers the answer to Signe, "...th' well-traveled one, 's I recall..." She steps aside too, though she hadn't been blocking the way, moving back toward her own table a bit.

Glissa turns to draw the little one into her lap, over one knee, kiss her forehead with the Rembrant curls, before easing her gently to the floor. She gathers up her shoulderbag which is purse and toybox, the credit card, and opts to head for the register at the front of the restaurant. "Nice to meet you," she calls vaguely over her shoulder, with a certain cold cordiality that suggests she has taken stock of Signe and found her lacking. "Goodnight, Bernie."

Signe grunts as they leave and settles in to eat Bernie's pie. She uses the fork.

Bernie slips back into her original seat, with a little bounce, and leans across the table to steal the fork from an abandoned place setting; this table usually hosts more occupants. She reaches over with her prize to get a bite of the pie herself. "So, 's new?" she asks, before eating it.

Signe points with the fork at the departed kin. "I love it when they get sanctimonious like that. Like we don't put our lives on the line for them every day."

"Ah, she was jus' bein' all protective-mother t' her kid. Can't blame her =too= much for that, yeah?" Bernie protests mildly. "...an' 'least she does stuff t' help us out an' all, y'know? Came an' gave us all =sortsa= important shit t' know re: somea th' college goin's on, y'know?" The last y'know is more of a question than just the usual sentence-ending. She scoops up a bit of the whipped cream on her fork, and eats it slowly, reaching over to move her notebook out of the way.

Signe's tone is questioning in return, after a lick of her fork, "You mean the skeleton crap going on? yeah. That's cool. Listen, you spend a lot of time between woods and city, right?"

Bernie nods -- twice. "Yeah, pretty much. Go back 'n' forth a lot. How come?" She reaches over to pick up the mug of coffee, and makes a face at it, after a sip confirms her fears: it's cold, and therefore has gone from acceptable to nasty.

Signe sniffs lightly, setting the fork down once she's cleaned it. Leveling her gaze on Bernie, she asks, very very quietly, "How many followers of Falcon are there in the sept? I man, do any of them hang out at the cub house?"

Bernie thinks about it, brow furrowing a bit, as she slowly eats another bite of the pie. Mmmm, chocolatey. "...I dunno," she replies eventually, shaking her head slightly, "far's I know, nope. Mostly, only th' kids hang out there, really." There's a slight startlement in her eyes at saying that, at no longer being one of them. "Really, mostly y'go there, y'only run inta th' celts an' th' feminists, these days... sometimes my folks, or a treehugger'r two. But rarely anyone else, an' not a whole lotta anyone, really."

Signe frowns. "Ok. Thanks," she says, sounding disappointed. "No big deal."

"Sorry," the new cliath says, getting another forkful of pie. "I c'd try an' find out more, 'f y'want, though."

Signe nods, moving to get up. "Yeah. But do it...discreetly like. Kay?" she looks across the table purposefully, nods, and moves to get back up. Either she's restless again, or she figures the Denny's waitstaff's had enough of her loitering.

Bernie nods back, looking somewhat intrigued. If she wants to ask more about this, she bites it back, merely replying, "A'ight, no problem. I'll see ya 'round, yeah?"

Signe gives the Gnawer a little wave and another nod and moves toward the door. She can't help but say 'boo' to the waitress she passes on the way out, making the girl jump nearly a foot.

Bernie snickers a bit at the sight, and goes back to finishing off the pie. And any time now, a waitress will decide it's safe to refill her coffee. What more could one desire?