<div class="floatleft">(http://i1007.photobucket.com/albums/af196/daisygirl1200/ddf435a3-2926-47ca-a945-2846ded513d5.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: andale mono;">Jack gave a single nod of approval in the Probie’s general direction. Good solid sense, pancakes for breakfast. Plenty of carbs to keep a body going and heavy enough to stick to the ribs. All that above and beyond the general almond deliciousness that recommended the cakes in the first place. It was good to see the kid had sense about these things even if she did have questionable hair. And she seemed to be following his lead. A promising start to their tenure together.  It made Jack feel down right magnanimous.<br/><br/>”Hey Marg,” he started, rattling off his order as he settled more comfortably in the booth again. One arm slung up across the back of his seat, he stretched his legs out just a bit and crossed the long limbs at the ankles under the table. “I’m gonna go with the short stack. And can I get that with a side of fruit? Strawberries if you have ‘em. Tell Hank hold the whipped cream, butter and syrup.” Jack fixed his waitress with a stern look. Hank could be a little cantankerous if you ordered off menu but a guy had to look after his figure. His free hand smoothed down the fabric of his uniform shirt. Extra crunches were fun for no one.<br/><br/>“And a glass of skim milk.” He watched Marge’s eyes get a faraway look as she memorized the order, fiddling with the ticket book that was absolutely pointless but a fixture of the place none the less. After a heartbeat, Marg gave a little nod and turned to the Probie. Jack’s fingers tapped out a little rhythm against the scared wood of the booth back as he waited for the Probie and Marg to finish up. The clock over the kitchen said it was almost 9:45. He needed to be back at the station by 10:30 to check on the carnation delivery.</span><br/>