Joaquin didn't seem to hear Cole explain how he actually had a really intense tripod. When the food came he reached for his and dragged it across the table, clinking Cole's dish as he did so. He had ordered plain eggs and chopped potatoes. Joaquin had a thing for potatoes; nature's blandest starch. He began to tuck into his meal immediately without even seasoning it. It was a true terror to behold. He looked briefly at Cole's "truck". It looked like it was actually falling apart-- was that rust? Jeez, they were riding in that?<br/><br/>Loris thanked the waiter for his meal and reached for a knife, struggling to pick it up since it had landed on the flat side and industrial grade utensils were about as thick as 1-ply toilet paper. Once he had managed to grab it, he began to cut into his omelette, which was really tough and not like an omelette at all because it wasn't actually an omelette at all. It cut more like a solid block of deli meat than a fluffy eggy breakfast food. "Maybe," Loris said, mouth full of food. Whether it tasted good or not seemed to not be a concern of his. "We could stay in California. You know how they feel about us crossing borders." This incited a laugh from Joaquin, but Loris was as completely serious as he could be.<br/><br/>"Nevada... California... It's all sand, man. It just matters how much you wanna drive and how much sand you wanna see," Joaquin proclaimed, playing with a particularly boring looking potato on his plate. Joaquin's eyes flickered to Cole's plate and he made a face at gray, light brown goop-egg that was haggis. As if to compensate for his time wasted looking at Cole's meal rather than eating his, he stuffed three big potato bites into his mouth. "When would we," he swallowed, "be doing this anyway?"