So after I more or less promised Gilpatrick to keep anything he asked me to keep secret until it was time to record it for posterity, I sat there looking at him, kind of wondering what surprise he'd spring on me next. I half expected him to say something like 'MadBadLad is secretly a Hero' or something else equally preposterous. After sitting there staring at him for a bit, his smile getting a little mischievous, I nearly jumped out of my skin when Denise cleared her throat right next to me.

"Hey, loves. Did you two want some lunch?"

I raised and eyebrow at Gilpatrick, who just nodded. "Sure. Are you working with a limited menu or anything, what with..." I nodded toward the front doors.

"Nah. Our line cook missed the whole thing, although he said he wants to meet you, Agent. He's a big fan, apparently. The food storage is all working fine, even if our HVAC has decided to go on the fritz. So if it's on the menu, you can get it." She leaned forward, her voice going just quiet enough to keep from carrying past our table. "If you want something that's not on the menu, just ask, I'll see if we can make it happen."

Gilpatrick burst out laughing at that, but without the slightest trace of mockery. The kind of laughter you'd expect a teenager to let slip when they walked down to find all the shit they hadn't bothered to ask for sitting there in the living room with bows on. I half expected him to say, 'is it Christmas?' but honestly I think he's got way too much class for something like that.

No. not 'class'. I'd seen his business cards. He's got too much savoir faire, too much ability to express himself without making anybody feel slighted. Hell, he'd tagged the Soldier with some A List tier banter and while the guy got pissed, he didn't seem like he'd been hurt, just dissed.

I looked up at Denise and shook my head, but smiled as I did. She seemed friendly and all, and she fit the 'MILF' vibe I'd gotten way too much spam about, but I just don't swing that way. The part of me that recognized that Gilpatrick would totally be taking her up on her offer when we'd finished up for the day also whispered that I hadn't seen the line cook yet, but while it's been a little while, I'm not exactly so pent up I'm going to leap at some guy just because he's vaguely willing because I'm sitting in a booth next to Gilpatrick. "Honestly, I wouldn't know what to ask for, Denise. Thanks for the offer though."

"No worries, hon. If you think of something, you be sure to let me or one of the girls know." She lifted her pen and pad, then said, "what can I get for you then?"

I picked up the menus she'd left lying on the table, flipped through until something caught my eyes, and dithered between two options. Gilpatrick said, "what you thinkin?"

I tilted the menu until he could see what I'd been looking at and said, "I can't decide between the Bourbon Bacon Burger or the Five Pepper Burger."

He nodded, shot the burgers a 'not bad' kind of look, then said, "tell you what, can you get us one of each, Denise? We'll split them or something."

"Oh!" I added. "How much is it to get four ounce patties on those?"

She grinned down at me, winking, then deadpanning, "oh, we don't do that." When my face fell a little, she grinned again, "I'll be sure to let Carlos know you wanted those, though, just to make sure that appropriate mistakes are made."

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Gilpatrick laughed at that one, "what about inappropriate mistakes?"

She winked at him, "depends on what time you stick around to, hon. Can I get you two anything to drink?"

"Sure, but before we get to that can I get a Brisket Melt, an order of Onion Rings, and... how's the baked Mac and Cheese?"

She shrugged. "Not bad. Nothing special, but not bad."

He leaned over and stage whispered, "so gimme an order of that, but while you're telling Carlos about appropriate mistakes, can you let him know to go to town on it? Y'know, impress me so I can ask to meet the chef?"

She just grinned and said, "sure. Anything else?"

"Yeah, gimme a cola, a water, an iced tea, and a strawberry milkshake."

I shook my head. "Please don't take offense, but do you eat like this all the time?"

He laughed again. "I've got a high metabolism," he turned to Denise, "and as active a lifestyle as I can."

I managed to choke back my, "holy shit," instead managing to let out a strangled chuckle, then say, "just a diet cola and a water for me, please."

"You got it, boys. Onion rings first?"

Gilpatrick shook his head. "Bring it all out at once, if you can?"

"Sure, hon. I'll bring out your drinks as soon as I've got your order in though."

"Thanks." When she'd walked away, he turned to me and said, "so, any questions spring to mind while we're waiting?" When I sat there blinking for a second he smiled, leaned forward, and said, "about Supers, or History, or both? Or anything else, really, although I figure you'll want to pump me for your thesis while you've got me."

Something about the cadence of that last sentence got my cheeks heating, even as an involuntary yet not unwanted smile stretched my face. I paused a moment, eyes pointed to the ceiling, before looking back at him and asking, "what's your opinion on Achilles?"

I almost thought I imagined the lack-of-joyous-smile I saw flash across his face, but he answered, "about anything in particular or in general?"

I shrugged. "How about we start with the obvious; what do you think about him saying he's the original Achilles from the Trojan War?"

He returned my shrug with interest. "I don't, much." As my pen touched paper, he continued with, "he is." My hand slipped at that, leaving a long ink streak across my notepad.

"Come again?"

He grinned, deflecting with, "probably later, but not while you're interviewing me. Somehow I've managed to avoid getting roped into any amateur porn yet, but that doesn't mean I want recordings out there."

I rolled my eyes. "No, seriously, did you just say he is, in fact, the original Achilles?"

"Yep."

"Son of a King and a Sea nymph?"

At that he shook his head. "No. I mean, Peleus and Thetis might have had a kid named 'Achilles', but if they did that wasn't the guy who fought at Troy. The guy who fought at Troy? The same guy running around nowadays using the name."

I shook my head as I noted that down. "How do you know that?"

"Looks just like him, for one."

I silently repeated that as I jotted down my notes, then said, "how... the only records of Achilles' appearance are old decorations on Greek pottery."

Gilpatrick shook his head. "There's the descriptions in the Illead, and a few other bits of old poetry."

I smiled. "Which I'm sure you've got copies of?"

He smiled and nodded. "I'll get you those. Did you want me to translate?"

"Eventually, yeah, but for the moment, those still aren't photographs."

He shrugged again. For whatever reason, Achilles seemed to dull Gilpatrick's shine somewhat. I wondered if they had some kind of history, but he shook his head and said, "I tell you what. I'll make you a bet. You find me a dozen police sketch artists, I'll give them all the descriptions I've got access to without any names attached, and bare minimum nine out of twelve will make you a pic that looks just like that..." He took a deep breath, shook his head, and his smile came back.

I said, "what were you about to call him?"

His smile got a little lopsided, but didn't dull nearly as much as it had before. He took a deep breath, then asked, "you sure?"

"Yes."

Slowly and carefully, he smiled before he spoke. "Smug. Bastard."