Their naming schemes had been a family tradition for who the hell knows how long. Their creepy-ass parents had been the ones who kept it going, much to Mary's derision. At least her name was relatively 'normal' compared to her brother's. With the promise she made to him, which was stabbing him if he had a daughter and named her something stupid, maybe the curse of shitty names would finally come to an end.<br/><br/>At the restaurant, Mary slipped through the door second, and Salem came in after her. Once inside, she pulled her hood down and looked around, scoping out where the best seat possible was. Not like they'd get to choose, of course, but knowledge of the good seats was indispensable. The place they got was good enough though, as booths were by default infinitely better than tables. Gotta have that cushion. When they arrived, she sat down next to Joe and flicked open her menu, reading over the various things in it. The place was very authentic, so a bunch of stranger things were on the menu as well. She wondered whether the chicken feet were any good.<br/><br/>Salem was reading as well, but he felt an odd nagging feeling in the back of his head. He hadn't slammed his skull into any tables, so he was baffled at what it could be. Something felt wrong, very very wrong, but he couldn't place what the hell it was. His face twisted into a look of bothered confusion, he looked to Joe and inquired the status of his brain. "Hey, you still feeling alright?" He asked, sounding exceptionally unsure. Maybe it was just worry over the dumb spyware scheme they'd put into place he was feeling. But it felt like something worse, more important. He just had no idea what the goddamn hell it could be.