"Famous" Rae Johnson
Owner and proprietor of Famous Rae's Dinner
Rae’s Diner and Rae himself are fixtures of the Santa Monica occult scene, all right under the noses of anyone looking for a greasy midnight burger. Rae Johnson was never meant to walk in his sleep. It just kind of happened that way. The way he tells it, it changes depending on his audience. If there’s been talk of bloodsuckers in his joint, he’ll tell them he was given a sip of Vitae as a child and it enlightened him forever. Werewolves being discussed? He’s 1/28th Apache, baby. Totez in with the spirits. Mages? Well his mother was a mighty sorceress. Either way, he’s here now and do you want your fucking burger or what?
For all intents and purposes, his nimbus is indiscernible from any other human. He barely even registers as a Sleepwalker. There is something… odd about him. During the daytime, Rae’s Diner looks like a piece of shit. The door is all but boarded up and abandoned. Some sleeper barely register that the place exists as they walk past it. Flowers wilt within a day of being put up in the windows. The cream for the coffee is always, without a doubt, sour. Those with Mages Sight may see it grimier, gloomier and drearier than the cheerful neon façade presents it.
There is a darkness behind the neon, but smiling Rae Johnson isn’t going to admit it.