throe

At a place called Dizzy Whiz, a youngish man with the code name Throe walks in for his usual Big Breakfast, which is in fact the cheapest place to eat in this small town that calls itself a city. Taking a seat at the counter for the proper truck stop diner feel, he sips bad coffee. A young woman in black, with pink hair and glowing green fishnets sits one seat away from Throe. Naturally, Throe's interest is in full gear and he sips his coffee in what he hopes looks like an interesting way.
The girl turns to Throe and, inexpicably, strikes up a conversation.
Girl: Hello.
Throe (nervously): Um, Hi.
Girl: Humanity is an enormous engine of the sacred.
Throe: Um, yeah?
Girl: But, most of you won't survive the coming rapid climate fluctuation.
Throe: Which is when?
Girl: Look into the fossil record. It will tell you precisly.
Throe: What's your name? I'm--
Girl: I know who you are. I must leave now. We will speak on two more occasions.

And, with that, she left. Without ordering any food. I asked the waitress if that girl came in here often.
"What girl?" was her reply.