[As long as its not the Poutaco I'm in] Tom's name for the food monstrosity made her laugh.
She'd timed it well, getting to his place not too long before he'd be done his shift. It was one thing to break in when she had studying to occupy her, it was another to have nothing more to do than store leftovers and wait.
Tom came in looking like Death, but since he worked at a goth bar that made sense. Due to his bulk Adri had seen him as a motley of masked murderers, often in a hockey mask or coveralls, but this one was new.
"Is that a cape?" She managed not to laugh. 
"Cloak, the scythe I left at the bar.'' he corrected, sounding tired.
"How is that practical in a busy bar?" she could imagine the hassle, she'd done full couture gowns before.
He gave her a dark look, the anger not at her but close to the surface. "It's worse than you think Reinita, I had to carry the damn scythe with me as I served too."
"Who the fuck thought this was a good idea?" She could tell by his frustration that it wasn't him.
"Sybil," He spat the name out like she'd know it, but her confusion must have shown. "The boss."
"The one who hates you." He'd mentioned it once before. "If she hates you but approves of the Poutaco, then I worry for her taste."
Adri put down the leftovers at the kitchen seat for Tom while he changed in the bedroom; the shower quicker than the microwave. He came back out in the sweats he tended to sleep in here, and she sat at the shitty couch to eat her own plate.
"So what's this about the book being a day planner?" Tom swiftly ate, no comment made about the stir fry's heavy vegetable content.
"It has as many days of the month, extra pages at the back have been cut away." Adri pulled up her pictures to show him the last where the even line of cut pages showed someone had taken a knife to it carefully, there weren't torn out. "The Casino Night lines up to the day of the month it happened on, and the May 24 reference is the 24th page."
He ate and reviewed the pictures, not arguing with her logic. "It works, Jerred texted about this weekend." Now Tom turned his phone to her, showing an encoded page in comparison to his text message  [You did well at poker, there may be a seat for you at Saturday's game; no business house party] with the usual GPS and time to arrive. The page of the book had the same date and location indicator, obvious now that she saw how he had strung all the numbers together in LONGITUDE/ DAY/LATITUDE/TIME without any punctuation. But the letters still didn't make any sense.
"So your James Bond routine continues," she focused back on Jerred's text.
"Did you bring an outfit or are we sneaking into Reaper's house after all?" Tom asked, and Adri laughed
"I have an outfit, why did he text so late?" She already gotten to Tom's by the time code on the text but she'd been cautious and had anticipated the need to have Saturday stuff with her.
Adri was tempted to leave a pair of black heels in the closet for convenience but knew that'd be crossing a line. Of course, Tom had actually left the spare toothbrush for her so she was almost convinced to try just to see what he'd say. 
"New phone number, I came back to a card under the door." he explained, taking his plate to the sink to wash it. "The 'might be a seat' makes me feel like something happened to one of his guys," he added on after turning back to face her.
"Think Jerred made a place for you?" she couldn't help but worry what that could indicate was coming next.
"Maybe, we'll have to see how tomorrow goes," he replied pragmatically, which only made her worry more. "Every outcome tells us something."