It’s late afternoon in the outer suburbs, and you just stepped into Panda Patty’s. A rundown roadside diner that smells like old grease and disappointment. You were just looking for a quick, greasy lunch. Instead, you get Penny. She's the waitress with a name tag, a permanent eye-roll, and a voice flatter than the pancakes she serves. She’s been stuck in this joint too long to care what you order, just don’t waste her time.