Pam turns and sees Michael exit the back door and walk up to her. "Sure, knock yourself out cowboy." She says with a smile, exhaling smoke through her nose, flicking the ash onto the pavement below. She eyes him up and down as he pulls a cigar out from his silver tin.

Pam flashed a toothy grin as she grabbed the generous tip. "Thank you sir," she said half-excitedly, trying not to show too much excitement. She scurried into the the kitchen and began scooping the ice cream into the glass bowl. She stuffed the money in her pocket. After she was done, she brought over the ice cream to the table and placed it in front of Michael. Looking at the clock, she noticed it was time for her break. She went up to Mary and said, "Hey cover my tables I'm going out for a smoke." Mary nodded and Pam took off her apron and headed out the back door, lighting up a cigarette and leaning up against the wall.

Pam follows Luca with her eyes as he sits down, her mind still wandering around, a bit of a haze. She snaps back to reality when she hears Michael ask for some coffee. She jolts up, and grabs a mug and her coffee pot. She walks over to Luca sitting at the booth with the guys, and pours him a fresh cup of joe. "Anything to eat?" Pam inquires. She turns to Kevin, "Those eggs and sausage will be out in just a minute," she says with a weary grin. She tries her best to be friendly to her patrons, as she knows her looks will only get so far with the tips. The real trick is customer service, something that for some reason none of the other waitresses get.

"Sure thing," Pam replies, writing down Kevin's order on her pad. She heads back to the kitchen and puts the paper on the slider for the cook, then leans over the counter waiting for more customers. She listens to Michael's conservation, fascinated about his wild lifestyle. She sips her own coffee, she's not supposed to but the manager is probably either drunk and already passed out in the office, or working over one of the younger, ditzier waitresses. She stands up to attention when a dapperly dressed man walks in with slicked back hair. "Hi, welcome to Marty's, sit anywhere you like." Pam announced courteously

Pam smiles as she takes the cup of spit and dumps it outside before dragging over a tin waste basket and placing it by the man's foot. She walks back into the kitchen, placing her orders on the slider for the cook to read, when she notices another man join the party at her table. She grabs the pot of coffee and walks over to the man. Pam pours him some coffee, figuring he wanted some. "Any of you eating this morning?" Pam asked politely

Pam smiled, "Sure thing hun," She replied, heading back to the kitchen to grab the coffee pot. She glanced over at the two men, her eye particularly drawn to the gentleman with the hat on the table. He reminded her of a cowboy, with his big hat and the way he spit his chew into the empty coffee cup. She always had a thing for lone-ranger types, it reminded her of when she lived out on a ranch for a summer way out in Big Sky Country in her late teens. She smiled as she filled two mugs of hot coffee, reminiscing, before she walked back over to the table. "I can bring over a bucket for your chew if you like," Pam offered to the man, noticing his empty mug was getting full as she placed the two fresh cups of coffee on the table.

Pam arrives to work, her wily blonde hair semi restrained back in a messy bun. Last night's makeup is still on her face, foundation to cover her tired face, her eyelashes clumpy with mascara. She ties on her stained white apron over her light blue diner uniform, a button down shirt and skirt. She rolls her sleeves down her arms just enough to cover her bruised track lines. Sighing, she ignores her manager's sexist comments as she walks past him to the kitchen. She runs into Mary, her co worker, holding a fresh pot of coffee. "Hey, you're working the right side today." she says to Pam. Pam sighs and looks over. She sees two men sitting down at a table, one with a wide brimmed hat on the table chewing tobacco, and another sitting opposite of him. She walks over with her pad, holding it slightly below her nametag. "Y'all have enough time?" she asked politely.

Pam smiles and heads to another table to take an order. The morning shift flies by in a haze, Pam taking orders, bringing out food, smoke breaks here and there, chatting with the other waitresses, dealing with the manager harassing her. Finally it's 3pm, her shift is over. Pam exits the diner wearing a worn out T shirt and tight faded jeans, her blond hair wily as she lights up a menthol cigarette. She exhales, and checks her bag for some dope. She's out, and that's not going to work. Fishing though her tips, she has enough for a 20 bag. She texts her dealer, who responds: "Meet me outside of Nelly's on 5th St." She puts on her shades and a zip up sweatshirt, and walks down the road to 5th St to score.

Pam scribbles the order down on her pad , smiling big at the generous tip from the biker. "Thank you, sir." she says, her voice cracking a bit. She goes back to the kitchen and leans on the counter. She felt hungover, and a little dope sick. She glazed her eyes around the breakfast bar, watching the patrons eat their foods, living their lives. She wondered how she got to where she was now, thinking over all the choices she made.... "Yo Pam! Order up!" The cook barked, the beers and breakfast food sizzling on the plate. Pam snapped out of her daze and grabbed the tray, walking over to the group of bikers. She places the tray down on the table, passing out the food. "Anything else I can get you guys?" She says sweetly, paying closer attention to customers who tip so well.

Pam had a tired look on her face as she arrived to her morning job, a waitress at a breakfast bar. Her manager, fat and balding, a total creep, greeted her at the door with his arms crossed. "Pam you're late for the fifth time, and you look like hell." He said coldly. Pam rolled her eyes, bloodshot and with dark circles. She tried to cover up her face with makeup to hide signs of lack of sleep, and other things. "You're breath reeks of booze, and roll those sleeves down! No one tips a junkie." He said with an evil grin. She tensed up and pulled down her sleeves on her diner uniform, covering her bruising track marks. She wished she hadn't stooped so low to sleep with this jerk, just for some money to score some smack. He walked up close, "And let's show of these goodies," He added, unbuttoning her top few buttons. Suddenly, the roar of motorcycle engines could be heard. "Get out there and serve them," Pam's manager ordered, smacking her on the ass as she walked out. Pam groaned, and put on a smile as she walked up to the table. "What can I get y'all?" She said with a smile.