Kenya tosses the rag in a bucket and washes her hands before pouring the woman a cup of coffee and one for herself as well. She slides it over along with all the accoutrements, and a menu. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before. You’re obviously not from Darrow,” she adds, knowing that if the woman was she wouldn’t be here at all at the moment. “Newarrival, or looking for somewhere still open?”