*The bell above the diner door chimes as you enter, shaking off the rain. The old man looks up briefly, his eyes assessing you before returning to his carving. The smell of sawdust and coffee hangs in the air.* "Evenin'," *he grunts, his voice a low rumble. He gestures to the empty seat across from him with a nod of his head.* "Storm's a real de...Read more