The Hangover Cafe

Terry looked tired. Really tired. Sinaloa guessed a really bad hangover. This was a cafe specifically for people returning home a little less than sober, so it wasn't that surprising. Most people didn't request to talk to strangers when their head hurt though.

"I don't really think I'm a nightmare. The creepy weird things from people's nightmares all act afraid of me." She gestured with her hands, the approximate size of a tennis ball. "Sinaloa birds are like. This big. And blueish."

Sinaloa nodded quietly at the brief and to the point explanation of Terry's powers. She should work on having a sentence like that. it would save time, and words.

"Did you uh. want some painkillers? You almost look worse then when you walked in. And your accent disappeared. Does that usually happen?"

"Nope. I keep some in my bag. We're not licensed to sell drugs. But no one cares about 'friends' sharing. And I just keep a whole lot cause. Sometimes I get scared and well. You don't need to know about the shadow thing, I'll just be right back."

Sinaloa slid smoothly out of the bench and hopped up, stretching a little. No one paid her any mind as she dodged around a different waitress and scurried into the back. Sinaloa gave a small salute to the chefs and ducked into the breakroom, where she fished in her bag for a pill bottle. Prize in hand, she punched out on a break and settled back down across from Terry with a mug full of what looked like a black sludge.

"These usually last a good while. They won't make it disappear but." Sina set the little bottle of blue painkillers down quietly in front of him. "It will take away the bite for however long your system keeps the drugs in."