The place was called Olympus.

It looked like it had been there forever.

Posters from the 70’s with pictures of Gyros hung in the grimy windows; Jackie Wilson belted one out from the old Wurlitzer in the corner. As Alec and Simone entered, a booth of inebriated twenty-somethings were placing their order to a halfway pretty, but tired looking, waitress.

“Don’t tell me we came all this way for souvlaki.” Simone complained.

“Patience is a virtue, babe,” Alec said, directing her attention to the man who stood behind the counter, counting receipts.

The guy looked to be in his sixties, but he had the body of a Titan. He stood about 6’ 5”, with a massive chest and huge corded arms, barely contained by the T-shirt he wore. He kept his long, silver mane tied back in a ponytail, and had a thick, neat beard. He also had a huge beer-belly, but rather than implying weakness, it made him seem more powerful, larger than life.

“Oh… god…,” Simone swore, clutching Alec’s arm.

“You got that right,” Alec replied.