I take my own seat as the new guy looks up from under his tangled mess of hair, his prominent cheekbones and mouth hung slightly open doing a pretty convincing job, though I still can't decide which he is. Probably Johnny, who's better known. He gives a little nod of acknowledgement, and I'm sure he's new. Nobody else in the room has turned around. I slump in the cracked, molded plastic chair, stare up at the ceiling tiles with their millions of perforations.
Footsteps approach from the hall outside, pause at the doorway, and enter.
I glance to the side, and Johnny is looking at the person coming in again. His eyes cast downward and he nods his head like a yokel. He hangs his head, cradled by two bony shoulders. More feet, this one's got the definite cadence and pitch of a woman in heels. I glance at my watch.