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It was rare for Marlo to be out and about in Destiny City, having to spend most of his time in detention for his brother and having to play catch up on missed school work. But, after the holidays, as the homework was lighter and the detentions fewer, Marlo was able to go out more often. Like on this sunny saturday, at morning hours which were normally slept in for half of the student body in Hillworth.
"It's not a complicated order. Two waffles, plain, three slices of bacon, two eggs sunny side up, and approximately one cup of hashbrowns. With a small side of fresh fruit. How is this complicated?"
"Sir, please order from the menu. We can't do such a special order."
Sitting in the middle of the IHOP, was Marlo, in a heated argument with the skinny waitress who in his opinion, would benefit from eating more and dieting less.
"If you cannot take my simple order, then bring me some one who can. If you continue your refusal of service, I would speak to your manager. And I assure you, you do not want me speaking to your manager." As the waitress scowled at Marlo she began to write the order down on the slip of paper. From the viens in her hands buldging, she was going to break her pen sooner or later.
"And a glass of two percent milk, if you don't mind." Stiffling a scream, the woman turned and went back to the kitchen, heels clicking harshly on the linoleum floor.

The accent was unfamiliar to Marlo. It sounded like it came right out of a 1980s B-rated movie set in the backwaters of the Wizard of Oz. The face of who the accent belonged to almost matched the idea of some southern hick Marlo had pictured briefly in his mind.
The ringlets did throw him slightly.

"The thing is miss, I use the menu, and they bring out more then what I need. It'd be a waste of food and money. While I do enjoy the food and menu based items, I don't enjoy the sight of a half eaten plate of good food. The matron is most adamant we don't try to store food in out dorms. Thus, I try to make sure I don't over order." Picking up his napkin, he placed it on his lap and began to inspect the utensils.

"Though I take it you come here regularly, and thus, would naturally think ill of my 'fancy order.' Really. It's just their main breakfast place with smaller less wasteful portions."

The cheap silverware was clean.

"And a fruit cup. They do have a very nice selection of fresh fruits."

The waitress was not returning with his order.

She was returning with a man Marlo only assumed was the manager.

A glare was sent right at the skinny waitress, who Marlo would now forever consider the-one-who-he-will-never-tip-for-no-matter-what.
The second the country girl joined him, Marlo got the sense she was not the type to easily budge in certain things. As the girl ordered Marlo sat still, as perplexed as both the manager and waitress took the girl's order an left. The handshake was short and firm, nothing to show hostility.

"I'd come here with my brother, but, he'd eat everything and anything. And he tends to try and steal my food. As for paying, you will not." He crossed his arms. Her ordering food? Fine by him. Her sharing his table? No problem. Her paying for everything? Oh hell no. He was not about to be so boorish as to make her pay. God. Girls these days. Sometimes they needed to understand that guys liked to pamper them at times.
At least when it was convenient and easy.

"I will pay for at least half of the meal, provided you didn't just order half the kitchen. It's not," what word could he use with out sounding like some sexist jerk? "morally acceptable for me to allow a girl I do not know well to pay for my meal when I an fully capable of paying for it myself."

There. That didn't sound sexist did it?

"Marlo."
To make sure the point was made:
"My name is Marlo. Marlo Xanis. NOT Mr. Fancy Order. And I do not 'pinch my pennies'." He had to think about that for a second before adding: "Well, I don't often. Just on some things. But not on good food." Marlo was holding back from the childish retort of 'I talk funny well YEW talk funny!' Even if it was true.

"As for brothers...I would give you mine but I'm quite sure there are laws in place to prevent that. Which is a bit annoying. I would give him away for free if I could." Not to self though: Do not take this girl's-
"Waffles." Luanne deposited the first of many plates, give Marlo a stink eye while she gave Mags a genuine smile. As the plates were piled onto the table, (oh god maybe he should have let her pay after all), Marlo answered her question.
"Depends on the pepper and what it's used for. Personally, I'm rather fond of stuffed bell peppers and this sweet roasted pepper sauce they have over in this burger joint downtown."

He watched her move around the table with an almost deadly precision.

It was methodical. It had order within the chaos that was Mags and her waffle sandwich. To Marlo, Mags had become the 8th wonder of the world.

The waffle monster.

Gingerly, he reached out slide a waffle onto his plate, and when she didn't stab him, he relaxed and began his own version. A thin layer of scrambled eggs. Hash browns mixed with ketchup. Bacon, crumbled. Each layer was done with Marlo's intent to make it not only taste good, but look good. He made his final moved to finish his meal's appearance.

Slather the ever living piss out of it with syrup.
Then top with a regular waffle, as to not dirty one's hands. Now, his waffle sandwich was perfect.

The meaning was clear, Marlo was just as enthusiastic about his waffles, if in a reserved sort of manner.
"You might like the place then. Best burgers in the whole city from my experience. It's a food cart of all things, but, I've yet to find a better place. You should go sometime, it's just off of the corner across from the library. Best time to go is around five, before dinner rush. It's also when the burgers are fresh off the grill." Cutting his sandwich in half, all form of hoity-toity refinement was lost, and the younger Xanis began to literally, shove his face.

It was just that good. And he had a bet this Mags girl wouldn't care.