The waitress notices them because they seat themselves in her section, the middle-aged guy whose entire appearance screams ‘cop’, drinking coffee and pretending to read a menu first. Then comes the tiny woman who looks more dangerous, somehow, than a New York detective, sliding in opposite him. She says a few words, he barks a dry laugh, while she doesn't respond - she's not a colleague, not an informer - and the waitress, who’s tips depend on her reading of people, thinks, 'Huh, they're friends.'