[ Maybe it's terrible and maybe it's selfish, but Martha likes it when they stop for the night and the day's posture gets stripped from Agent Cooper's shoulders, hung up alongside his camel trench and his black blazer like another article of clothing (something he dons instead of is, proof that he is only human). He's a man of ritual and there's an order to things — the way he folds his clothes and brushes his teeth and talks to his recorder and calls it Diane. But at the end of all rituals, before he shuts off the bedside lamp and rolls over onto his side with his back facing the wall, that's when he lets himself smile a little less and that's when Martha thinks — just maybe — it's possible they're not so different after all.
He takes his time as he places his order, which means Martha's more herself when the waitress turns her large cow eyes back towards her, peering at Martha over her glasses, the tip of her pencil tapping her scribbled notepad. ] Fries, [ she says shortly and pushes the menu away. ] Just fries and— [ Martha glances at Cooper. ] —and pie.
[ The waitress asks her which kind and Martha says pecan just to be difficult. She almost forgets to tack on a: ] —thanks.
no subject
He takes his time as he places his order, which means Martha's more herself when the waitress turns her large cow eyes back towards her, peering at Martha over her glasses, the tip of her pencil tapping her scribbled notepad. ] Fries, [ she says shortly and pushes the menu away. ] Just fries and— [ Martha glances at Cooper. ] —and pie.
[ The waitress asks her which kind and Martha says pecan just to be difficult. She almost forgets to tack on a: ] —thanks.