Tw - use of a racial slur. Scott can't catch a break.

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First rule of robbing any place up front: you get out of town as soon as you're done. So Larry pays for a motel room just outside of town and figures what the hell? The cops likely won't bother with him for three days at least and he's not stopped moving in about a month. He can let himself breathe for a minute.

First rule successfully violated.

The motel doesn't have much going for it but there's a diner just down the street, and on a Monday morning there ain't much happening. He orders himself bacon, eggs, sausage, toast, skip the pancakes. He's barely gotten to the bottom of his coffee for the first time before it's being refilled.

"Thanks darlin'" He smiles at the waitress. She doesn't even look at him. Dark eyes and messy hair, hungover as fuck. Larry could believe that she's still drunk.

It's the kids that first pique his interest, so incongruous that he can't believe that the manager let them through the front door. Monday morning, school time, they shouldn't be here. High itched voices, bickering with each other and begging a parent for maple syrup, for ice cream floats. It makes Larry tired just to hear them. Thank fuck he never managed to produce any offspring, as far as he's aware.

"Kate, Scott, come on. Sit down and we'll take a look at the menu." The father speaks and Larry's always been good with voices. It helps, in his line of business. Picking mugs out of a line up based on who you heard talking in the background of a phonecall is never a bad skill to have.

Or re-picking the same mugs over again. Larry glances up and sees the priest dropping into a booth across the other side of the diner with two kids in tow. He's not in his cassock, all formal wear abandoned in favour of the same button down and shorts that every sucker between here and Dallas wears like a badge of honour. I'm a Republican nut who lives in the South and this is my uniform! Out of my way. In a polo neck and cuffed jeans, Larry feels practically exotic.

Like this, the guy looks deceptively normal. Below the beard, his jawline looks like it might be strong, and there's a warmth in his eyes looking at the kids that might be heartbreaking if it didn't look so damn sincere. Larry should run.

"Fancy seeing you here, father." Larry grins down at the priest, leaning against the edge of the booth.

The priest jumps, his shoulders hunching up around his ears as he looks up at Larry with barely disguised fear. "You!"

"Yeah, it's me!" Larry taps him good naturedly on the arm. Play along with this shit, asshole. Let me have a little fun. "How you doing?"

Before the priest can get a word out, one of the kids cuts in. "Dad, who is this guy?"

It takes Larry a full double take to clock the kid situation. Two of them, boy and girl, early teens if he had to take a guess and looking to be more or less the same age. Only one of them's a chink. If Larry didn't know any better, he'd peg this whole situation for some altar boy bullshit.

He doesn't know jack shit, let alone any better. His jaw clicks and he contemplates punching the guy's lights out right then and there. "I'm a friend of your father's from way back. Met up with him yesterday for the first time in a while but I didn't know I was gonna stick around."

"Dad!" The Chinese kid rolls his eyes. His accent ain't an inch of purebred Texan. "You shoulda said. We could have put him up in the guest bedroom. Mom wouldn't have minded."

Ok. Chinese kid is probably adopted. Non Chinese kid is giving Larry the evils like she knows every bad thing he's ever done though. He likes that, he can work with it. Neither of them are flinching, or looking to each other like they think something else is going on here. Conclusion: the priest never told them about the robbery.

If he didn't tell his family, he didn't tell the police.

"Yeah." The priest nods and summons up a weak smile. "This is Mister White. You remember?"

"The bible salesman?" The girl asks.

The priest glances to Larry, asking for help in managing his children's expectations.

Larry shrugs. "I don't sell bibles no more. Had a bit of a crisis of faith. Needed to get my head out of all that Jesus talk for a while."

The girl remains unconvinced. Wrong thing to say. But what's Larry supposed to do? He's never so much as cracked the spine of a bible let alone read one of the things.

"You should join us for breakfast!" The boy insists.

Tempting, just to needle the guy. He's a few years past it but once upon a time he must have been pretty handsome. He's got the face shape for it. He's got the sad, soulful eyes that tend to reel people in regardless. If Larry had to guess, he'd say that the wife, wherever she may be this fine morning, is probably a looker.

"Morning Reverend Fuller!" A waitress, noticeably more chipper than the girl who had seen to Larry, bursts into the conversation. Her eyes flick over the children and wind their way to Larry, where they linger for a second. Like she might be checking him out but is probably just running his face through the database of everyone who lives in Two Pines to see if she can come up with a map. "Is this your brother, Jacob?"

The priest, Reverend Fuller, Jacob, splutters. The girl frowns, the boy laughs. "They're friends!"

"They just got a look about them." The waitress smiles, but her eyes narrow as she starts to second guess herself. "Really! Look at them! Same mouth, same nose, they even got the same type of build."

What she doesn't know is that when Larry goes easy on the pomade, his hair hangs loose to the right, the same as Jacob Fuller.

Same mouth, same nose... Larry looks at the guy and tries to transpose memories of his reflection over the face. He's got a straighter back, he's got a colder stare, he's sure of that much. And yet...

"I'm nearly done." Larry finally answers the invitation to eat with the family. "And I got some stuff I gotta do today. But hey, Jacob, I might stop by sometime tomorrow, if that's cool with you."

Jacob shakes his head. "I-"

"C'mon, dad!" The son whines. "You hardly have any friends of your own. You and Mister White oughta catch up."

"Yeah." Larry shoot the kid a thumbs up, and shoots Jacob a wink.

Jacob blushes beet red, stammering out something that can't work out if it's acceptance or denial. "I just...I have work to do at the church."

"Then I'll come find you at the church." Larry takes his leave, heading up to the counter to pay. He hasn't met up with his fence yet, the candlesticks are tucked away in the back of his care. Depending on how generous he's feeling, he might even log them as a donation.