Avoiding all triggers
The ramshackle diner squatted at a lonely crossroads like a weary traveler, its weathered clapboard siding and neon-framed windows exuding a road-worn ambiance. Even at this late hour, a battered pickup truck and a sleek sports car idled in the gravel parking lot, twin plumes of exhaust catching the amber glow spilling from the diner's entrance.
Inside, the air hung thick with the mingled aromas of stale coffee, grease, and disinfectant. A handful of customers nursed mugs and picked disinterestedly at wilted pieces of pie beneath the harsh fluorescent glare. In the far corner, two figures huddled in a vinyl booth.
Reggie drummed his fingers restlessly against the tabletop, scanning the deserted diner with an inscrutable look. His usually dapper appearance was somewhat muted - dark slacks and a crisp dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, accentuating the corded muscle in his forearms. Only the slight elongation to his canines hinted at his supernatural lineage.