Marshall sat in a quiet, worn out booth in a somewhat run down diner. It had been some time since he had been able to come here, just having enough money for crappy filter coffee.
Still, better than being out in the cold. His fingers curled tightly around the chipped mug. A paper laid spread over the linoleum, opened to the job section. His eyes were blank, idling over the same word he had been reading for close to an hour now.
"Wanted"
Angrily, the Australian closed the paper. He rubbed his face before sipping at the bitter coffee, swallowing down the lump in his throat with the horrid mix.
His eyes went up to the door when there was a dull clunk (as the bell was damaged long ago), almost glaring at the newcomer.
Subject: Not a Cent to his Name 
Fri Jan 20, 2012 2:10 am
