<div class="floatleft">(http://images1.mtv.com/uri/mgid:file:docroot:cmt.com:/sitewide/assets/img/artists/ketchum_hal/halketchum01-430x250.jpg?width=361&amp;height=210&amp;enlarge=true&amp;matte=true&amp;matteColor=black&amp;quality=0.85)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Floyd Angolna<br/><strong>Occupation:</strong>Minion of the<em>Fabulous</em>Mairgold L. Viseli<br/><strong>Time:</strong>Morning, 1st Day A.E.<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Granny's Diner<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Open, Mentioning Emma, Belle, Barry, Jasmine, Glenn and Chas<br/><strong>Other Notes:</strong>Using Hal Ketchum as a face for these NPC minions.  If you like his look, lemme know, and his face claim is yours.  But I'm keeping the music album!<br/><br/><hr/><br/>To be honest, Floyd didn't really like the breakfast here.  The pancakes were too spongy.  The butter was cheap.  The bacon was domestic and cut from a subpar piece of a subpar hog.  The syrup was one of those horrible grocery store brands that had somehow replaced actual, authentic maple syrup.  The eggs were obviously white shell instead of brown, and were bland enough that it took several shakes of more than one seasoning to make them palatable.  Did no one know how to scramble an egg properly in this day and age?  And then there was the coffee.  Rank, bitter, detestable, made from industrial ground beans grown on some franken-farm super structure.<br/><br/>But Granny did make it strong.  It was one of three things about this place that Floyd actually liked.  The second being the croissants.  Much as he and his brother Jerry would never admit it, especially to Miss Viseli, these treats were flaky in just the right way.  Served with a few cut strawberries and a small bowl of powdered sugar, it wasn't half bad.  It was still nothing like the meals they used to enjoy, in the gigantic palaces and sprawling estates that they'd toured and lived in all over the world.  It wasn't enough for cuisine to be exotic, it had to be exceptional.  And Miss Viseli had only employed the very best chefs in every instance, to prepare her nightly feasts, morning delights, and afternoon smorgasbords.  Floyd and Jerry had picked up many things from those days, but it was the taste that lingered.  Exquisite, exceptional, and excessive.  Blissful hedonism, overflowing..<br/><br/>Floyd looked down at his croissant again, and made a face.  They were flaky.  He was reduced to eating peasant food, in minuscule portions, and<em>liking</em>it.  Because they were flaky.<br/><br/>He took another sip of the coffee, the bitterness washing away his disgust.<br/><br/>There was only one other thing he liked about this diner.  Like it or not, it was a beating vein throughout the rest of the town.  Storybrooke may be a small, secluded little hamlet, where they lived not in a palace, nor in a mansion, but in what could scarcely be described as a large house.  But it was a fascinating place, full of all kinds of curious people and going's on.  Miss Viseli made it her business to know everything of any interest that happened here.  Not only for her own amusement, or for the hunger all three of them shared for their bygone glory days.  But because there was only one chance to sink your teeth into an opportunity, and Miss Viseli was<em>starving</em>to sink her teeth into all of them.  In that regard, Floyd was here on duty, watching and listening, keeping his thumb on the pulse of the city.  His smart phone was neatly laid to the side as he rolled a strawberry in sugar.  Ugh.  Granulated sugar, and itty-bitty fruit.  This place couldn't even get the strawberries right.<br/><br/>Floyd was watching the self-appointed gift-to-all-women hit on the librarian.  The oaf never could take a hint.  But Miss Viseli appreciated the eye-candy, and there was something to be said for his audacity.  And some less kind things to be said for the shrew he was courting.  The neighborhood bum came bum-bum-buming into the shop to get some of that filthy artificial honey on a soggy bear claw, before running outside to tend to the village fortune-teller.  Who somehow hadn't predicted that the curb ended in a 5 inch rise right at the side-walk.  Floyd let himself smirk at that, lifting his phone and snapping a quick picture with practiced grace and discretion.  Miss Viseli would love it.<br/><br/>Glenn was also here.  Miss Viseli tended to favor the man, noting how eager he was to become a proper business man in his own right.  Floyd sipped his coffee and gave him a glance, nodding if he returned it.  They knew each other, the Viseli Minions and the handyman.  They'd spoken about potential deals, start-up capital, that manner of thing.  Nothing had occurred as of yet, but Floyd had watched him long enough to know his routine.  Pity that he ordered the waffles, though.  The flour was almost certainly all-purpose.<br/><br/>However, what really grabbed his eye was the new girl.  He'd never seen her before.  No one had.  And this wasn't the kind of place that got visitors.  It was someone new, and that meant something new was happening.  He lifted his phone and, sending a text message with an image of her back to the house, submitted a new opportunity to his hungry mistress.<br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: courier;">"Eyes on the new girl.  What do you think?"</span>read his text.  He placed the phone on the table and took another grudging bite of his croissant, staring back at the phone as it rumbled on the counter.<br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: courier;">"Finally!  I was wondering when Granny's would have something less stale to offer."</span>came the reply.  Miss Marigold Lee Viseli.  Even over the phone, he could hear her theatrical voice, the bubbling delight in her tone and the slit-eyed candor of her expression.  It made him smile, truly smile for the first time that morning.<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: courier;">"I want you to keep an extra close watch on this one.  She may be more than just a pretty new face."</span><br/><br/>