<div class="floatright">(http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTAK9_Qlhxy3QOMkqi-NaEYShJQtAm3rs2xZ0MDuHSGMIWNbiLb1A)</div>Jordan turned around, heart hammering in her chest, fearing the worst. Fearing she would turn around and find something horrible, something monstrous, something hooded... What she found wasn't really scary at all though, just a regular guy. Kinda handsome, if you were into the whole clean cut nice guy look. She almost relaxed and then she noticed the uniform. She stared at the star badge with the emblazoned purple eye, not really hearing what he was saying to her. She blinked, slowly coming back to reality.<br/><br/>"Your the Probie." He said again, in the sort of loud, slow voice one normally reserves for small children or very old people with hearing problems.<br/><br/>"What's a Probie?" She asked, confused and suspicious. She was willing to do a lot of things for the good of NVCR but probing and/or being probed was not one of those things. "It doesn't have anything to do with... like... you know..." She stuttered to a stop, awkwardly trying to find a way to express her trepidation. The all-American type in front of her gave a officious harrumph. Idly she wondered if they taught them to do that in the SSP.<br/><br/>"Probational. Officer." Still in that slow, unnecessary tone. "You know, a rookie.<em>A Prooobie.</em>"<br/><br/>"Probational Officer?" The term was utterly foreign to Jordan, but it slowly dawned on her and she muttered "<em>Oh, like an intern.</em>" Then clearing her throat she tried to seem more like she knew what she was doing, "Yea, I guess that's me, and your deputy-?"<br/><br/>The officer was nodding before she even finished talking, as if he had been preset to say what he was about to whether she asked or not. "Just call me Jack. Unless we're out on a call in an official capacity, then call me Jaxon. Or if we're in front of the Sheriff -or Carlos-, then Deputy Jackson. But otherwise, most of the time, you can call me Jack. I mostly go by Jack unless I'm going by Jaxon."<br/><br/>Jordan found the man's -Jack's- train of thought to be a little hard to follow. "You're name is Jack Jaxon?<em>Really</em>?"<br/><br/>Jack looked slightly annoyed with her question, "No, my name is Jackson Jaxon. I just go by Jack." He stood up straight, placing his hands on his hips and looking down at her. "And I'll be the one asking questions here! What's your name Probie?" He barked the words, like he was auditioning for drill sargent.<br/><br/>"Jackson Jaxon?" She couldn't help but snicker a little bit. "<em>Jackson Jaxon</em>?" Jordan stopped her snickering long enough to realize she was on the receiving end of a serious glare. Shit, ridiculous name or no this guy was still part of the SSP, and she should be more careful. She cleared her throat and did her best to sound friendly, "I'm Jordan, Jordan Michaels."<br/><br/>Jack continued to glower at her, but didn't otherwise respond to her poking fun at him. Upon hearing her name he harrumphed once again, which in Jordan's opinion wasn't a whole lot better than her own behavior coming from someone in the SSP. "Right. Well into the diner kid," he jerked his head in the direction of the Moonlight Diner. "Can't do this job on an empty stomach." He gave his own a quick pat for emphasis, then turned and headed inside without waiting to see if she followed.<br/><br/>Jordan just stared after him for a minute. This was the guy she was going to be getting her info for the special secret appreciation piece from? Jack Jaxon? She sighed, wondering what she would have been doing right now if she would have taken the the summer training program to be on the Night Vale Spiderwolves women's rugby team instead of the NVCR internship. Then she realized she was daydreaming and hustled after the deputy who was already opening the diner door.<br/><br/>Inside of the Moonlight Diner all the usual smells and sounds of the American twenty-four hour a day greasy spoon were present. The scrape and sizzle of the grill, the soft blurble of fryers, the clink and chink of the dishes, and a soft murmur of conversation underlying it all. Jack had already taken a seat in the corner booth, and was looking very much like he owned the place. Jordan scooted into the bench opposite him. "Sooo... What exactly is it that Probies do,<em>Jack</em>?"<br/><br/>The deputy arched one of his eyebrows at her, she wasn't sure if it was because of the question or because she still couldn't take his name seriously. For a moment he didn't say anything, just picked the empty coffee mug up off the table and held it aloft for Marge, the waitress, to see. Jordan quickly turned, making sure Marge was still looking and held up two fingers, slightly miffed that Deputy Jack hadn't seen fit to offer her a cup. So she had laughed at his name, big deal, he couldn't offer her a cup of coffee? She turned back around when she heard him talking.<br/><br/>"Whatever their Training Officer tells them to do<em>Proooobie</em>." He smiled, it was probably supposed to be disarming but it was only making her more nervous. She could only imagine what sort of trouble she would get into following Jack's lead. "Starting with breakfast. Then we'll head back to the station and get you suited up." He looked at her, brows knotting, "Say... How is it you don't already have a uniform?"<br/><br/>Jordan felt the wings of panic beating in her chest, she hadn't even technically gotten inside the SSP and she was already gonna blow her cover.<em>Come on, think think think!</em>She fidgeted nervously, and did the only things she could do, made something up."I uh, well, I was getting ready this morning, you know big first day! And this uh, dimensional rift, yes, this small dimensional rift opened up right there in my closet. And before I could do anything my uniform was sucked in and then it just winked out of existence. You know how that happens sometimes?" She rested her hands on the cool melamine surface of the table, realizing she had been gesticulating just a little too enthusiastically during her humble performance.<br/><br/>Jack just sipped his coffee and nodded along with her story, clearly feeling a sense of commiseration. "Those trans-dimensional rifts can be a bitch." He coughed and looked around, obviously having spoken a little too quickly. Jordan smirked. "Erm, I mean they're problematic. Well no problem. We'll just head back to the station after this and pick you up a new one." He nodded with a sense of finality and she sighed in relief, leaning forward against the table. He continued talking, oblivious of her deception. "The omelets are good here. I wouldn't touch the waffles though. Bioluminescence..."<br/>