Okay, I need your help. Robbie Leftwich and I are writing a comic book that Jacob Cowden says he'll illustrate. I'm assuming most of you don't read comic books, but you do know dialogue and characterization and rising action and all that goodness. I wrote this. I think it'll be the first couple pages of the book. Let me know if my dialogue is stilted and unnatural.

A Waffle House. Dominic walks in. He’s a young black man in a gray, slightly rumpled suit. He begins walking to his favorite booth. He stops when he sees someone already sitting there. It is a tall, handsome white guy. Blonde. Red sweater-vest. There’s an untouched cup of coffee in front of him. He’s smiling.

Dom: Gabriel. How did you know where…? Nevermind. Why are you here?
Gabe: Dominic. You’re still calling yourself that, right? Sit. Please.

Dominic sits.

Dom: Well, what brings you here? I assume it’s not the coffee.
Gabe: Alright. I’ll get right down to it. We have a mission for you.
Dom: [surprised] A miss- I didn’t realize I was still on the payroll.
Gabe: Payroll?
Dom: Never mind. What makes you think I have any interest in helping you?
Gabe: I expected you’d jump at the chance. You’ve been out of the loop for so long, you must have forgotten what it’s like.
Dom: I remember, Gabriel. Don’t think for a second I don’t. But if you think…

The waitress comes.

Waitress: You need a menu, hon?
Dom: No, just coffee, thanks.

Waitress goes.
One panel of Gabe and Dom looking at each other across the table. Dom lights a cigarette.

Dom: So what is it? It must be pretty bad if you’re asking me for help.
Gabe: There’s a new prophet.

Dom looks surprised.

Gabe: He’s just a boy. And he has no idea who he is. And he won’t listen when we try to tell him. We’ve tried everything. I come to him in his dreams. I try talking to him in the waking world.
Dom: Did you come to him like that?
Gabe: As a human?
Dom: In those clothes.
Gabe: You're a fashion expert now? I don't think my clothes are what drove him away.
Dom: You probably look like his dad.

Gabe doesn't seem to understand.

Dom: Did you show him your wings?
Gabe: Yes.
Dom: The radiance, the flaming sword, the whole bit.
Gabe: Yes, yes.
Dom: Did you tell him not to be afraid?
Gabe: Of course.
Dom: I still don’t get why that never seems to work.
Gabe: [pause] You’re being sarcastic.
Dom: Sorry.
Gabe: No, that’s…that’s fine.

Waitress comes back with the coffee.

Dom: Thanks.
Waitress: Need anything, holler.

Waitress leaves.

Dom: Why? Why another prophet after so long? Why now?
Gabe: I can’t tell you that. What I can tell you is that it’s important. It’s absolutely vital.
Dom: Why me?
Gabe: You…understand them.

Gabe looks around at “them.”

Gabe: I’ll admit it. Freely. I don’t know what it’s like being human. And I don’t really want to. But you…
Dom: Yeah.
Dom: What does this kid look like? I’m not saying I’m doing it. Just…
Gabe: Of course. I’ll show you. Give me your hand.
Dom: No, we’re not doing that. It creeps me out.
Gabe: Fine. Check your left jacket pocket.

Dom produces a photo of a teenage kid. Dyed black hair. Piercings.

Dom: Damn it. He thinks he’s a rebel.
Gabe: Hm? Oh, the piercings. Is that what those indicate?
Dom: That’s a hell of a thing to do to a kid. He won’t even know what a prophet is, and you want him to change the world for you.
Gabe: Not for us. For them.
Dom: Right.
Dom: If I do this…
Gabe: I’m not going to bargain with you, Dominic. You either want to do this or you don’t. What it comes down to is how much you care about them.

Three panels, nearly identical. First: Dom opens his mouth in what's about to be another sarcastic angry comment. Second: He shuts his mouth and thinks. Third: Dom: Okay. What do I do?