As much as he didn't want to admit it, the Scarecrow knew what Depth Charge was saying was probably true: that it was too late to warn Rosemarie, and that keeping her friend's identity a secret was now on their shoulders. Another weight added, each one more tangible than the last. He could only hope that the second part of what Depth Charge said was just as likely- that maybe if they didn't draw her back into it, anyone watching them might just let her leave. After all, the military had sent them on the mission in the first place to get the name without raising suspicion, right? Surely they'd only take action if they thought they really had to.
Well, at least that was what the former strawman liked to believe. How strange it seemed to him now that only a few weeks before, he was sitting on an emerald throne in a magnificent city, feeling that even though he was clearly the wisest in Oz, he still wasn't doing enough. The feeling of powerlessness that nestled in his chest on a daily basis, growing since his arrival at Landel's, continued to claw its way up. He had lost his diploma, and his human brain wasn't in the best of condition. If they could protect Rosemarie and her friend the Major somehow, would he be satisfied?
He couldn't know yet. The Scarecrow gave tearing the strip a try; however, no matter how much twisting and turning he gave it, he couldn't manage to rip the gift in half, the coating giving it more than enough durability to withstand his efforts. "This thing is tougher than it looks," he noted, his mind scrambling to think of another plan.
"Excuse me, sirs?" The Scarecrow stifled a jump as the waitress materialized behind him, on edge from the ever-worsening situation. "You nearly forgot your bill." She produced a piece of paper from the tray, handing it to them with a smile.
"Oh, um." The Scarecrow paused, taking the scrap and looking it over. There were an awful lot of numbers on it, but he wasn't sure exactly what it was or what he ought to do with it. "Thank you." It was more of a reflex, his thanking her, but he supposed manners couldn't make things worse.
Another moment passed in silence, and she didn't leave. The Scarecrow eyed Depth Charge for a second before an idea came to mind: she was looking for something in return, he reasoned. She'd have left, otherwise. Reaching into his pocket, the strawman removed the wallet and handed it to her, card inside and all. "And could you do me a favor, ma'am?" he asked politely.
She stared at the wallet, a bit puzzled at his offer. She glanced inside- there was a card, at least. She wasn't going to question someone who came off as 'country folk' too much, so long as the payment was good. "Sure. What else can I do for you today?"
"Could you maybe throw this away for me?" He handed her Rosemarie's gift, the strip now crinkled from his attempt to tear it into pieces.
The waitress gave him another odd look, accompanied by a nod and a smile. "Of course. Be right back with your receipt."
With that, she turned and headed back the way she came. Relief, however minor, washed over the Scarecrow, his empty hands still trembling slightly from the mounting stress of the situation. He returned his attention to his roommate, trying not to look as worried as he felt. "All right, now what?"
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Well, at least that was what the former strawman liked to believe. How strange it seemed to him now that only a few weeks before, he was sitting on an emerald throne in a magnificent city, feeling that even though he was clearly the wisest in Oz, he still wasn't doing enough. The feeling of powerlessness that nestled in his chest on a daily basis, growing since his arrival at Landel's, continued to claw its way up. He had lost his diploma, and his human brain wasn't in the best of condition. If they could protect Rosemarie and her friend the Major somehow, would he be satisfied?
He couldn't know yet. The Scarecrow gave tearing the strip a try; however, no matter how much twisting and turning he gave it, he couldn't manage to rip the gift in half, the coating giving it more than enough durability to withstand his efforts. "This thing is tougher than it looks," he noted, his mind scrambling to think of another plan.
"Excuse me, sirs?" The Scarecrow stifled a jump as the waitress materialized behind him, on edge from the ever-worsening situation. "You nearly forgot your bill." She produced a piece of paper from the tray, handing it to them with a smile.
"Oh, um." The Scarecrow paused, taking the scrap and looking it over. There were an awful lot of numbers on it, but he wasn't sure exactly what it was or what he ought to do with it. "Thank you." It was more of a reflex, his thanking her, but he supposed manners couldn't make things worse.
Another moment passed in silence, and she didn't leave. The Scarecrow eyed Depth Charge for a second before an idea came to mind: she was looking for something in return, he reasoned. She'd have left, otherwise. Reaching into his pocket, the strawman removed the wallet and handed it to her, card inside and all. "And could you do me a favor, ma'am?" he asked politely.
She stared at the wallet, a bit puzzled at his offer. She glanced inside- there was a card, at least. She wasn't going to question someone who came off as 'country folk' too much, so long as the payment was good. "Sure. What else can I do for you today?"
"Could you maybe throw this away for me?" He handed her Rosemarie's gift, the strip now crinkled from his attempt to tear it into pieces.
The waitress gave him another odd look, accompanied by a nod and a smile. "Of course. Be right back with your receipt."
With that, she turned and headed back the way she came. Relief, however minor, washed over the Scarecrow, his empty hands still trembling slightly from the mounting stress of the situation. He returned his attention to his roommate, trying not to look as worried as he felt. "All right, now what?"