Katrina had had a date earlier that day and had yet to change out of her 'cute' clothes. She comforted herself with a sticky bun and a tea smoothie after the disappointment, trying to build herself up after such a let down. After all, it's not Katrina's fault that college aged boys are the scum of the Earth.

A velvet, maroon coat was slung over the back of a chair the heighth of a bar stool. The small, yet tall, two seater table did not have every available space occupied as Katrina was rather hoping that some nice johnny would invite himself to sit down. Or at the very least approach so that she could, in turn, invite him to the empty seat. But so far, the blonde had had no visitors. It was just her, her tea, and a half-eaten honey bun.

Her hair was parted straight down the middle and two loose braids lined either side of her head, reaching just in front of her shoulders. The shoulders themselves were bare, but the soft, cream sweater was fluffy and captured warmth well. It covered her arms and the large cuffs even kept her hands mostly invisible beneath it. The cuffs were mimicked at the top where it stopped just short of Katrina's shoulders and folded over in the same design. The jeans on the other half of her body had a classically faded look and would have been too long if Katrina were wearing flats. She wasn't, though, and pulled it off by wearing a nice pair of high heals with black-on-black bows near the toe. All that could be seen of them were the spiked heal and said toe.

People were always walking in and out of the popular coffee shop. For about five minutes, her heart leapt at each sound of the tinging bell, hoping that it would be someone she knew, but every time she looked up the hopes were dashed. With a sigh she'd given up and gone back to picking at the sweet roll.

Alexander feels the need for coffee. He can bake quite well, but he can't seem to make a cup of gourmet coffee. It's a fault. He thinks it is, anyway.

He's moderately casual, in that his tie has disappeared somewhere and he's undone the very top button of his shirt, but he's still dressed as if he's just come from work--which he has--and he still looks very professor like.

He orders his coffee and turns to glance around for a seat. And spots Katrina. He nods in acknowledgement, but doesn't make any move to approach her.

A light fluttering in the vacinity of her chest brightened her mood just a tiny bit at that nod. She lifted her hand to wave, but only a little, not even taking her elbow off the table. The tentative smile that accompanied it was mostly instinctual. The thoughts, however, that came next weren't.

I bet that date wouldn't have gone so badly if Professor Barclay was there.

They might not have been instinctual, but they did manage to get a pink tinge in her cheeks. She even entertained a brief notion of going over to talk to him and having a nice conversation. Her mood and the memory of the parting circumstances of their last meeting squelched and rejected such an idea.

Alexander feels guilty for his actions earlier, as a matter of fact.

He takes his coffee and actually heads in Katrina's direction, with the intention of smoothing it over, just a little.

Also informing her that it is a forbidden subject to ask about him. Like, ever.

"Good evening, Miss Sullivan."

He almost slipped, there. He almost called her Katrina.

"Hey, Professor."

Her foot half heartedly pushes out the chair opposite in an inaudible invitation to sit. But he doesn't have to.

The condensation on her cup is rubbed away and her hands continue to fiddle with the tea-smoothie. Her hands fidgit when she's nervous.

"Are you done with classes for today?"

He does sit, setting his coffee down, leaning back, and stretching.

"Yes, quite finished."

Tiny smile.

"I try to avoid having evening classes. I like to go home once in a while."

Oh good, she smiles softly, happy to see him stretching. She doesn't like when he's all uptight and she didn't know if he was upset with her or not from earlier. She took this as a positive sign.

"Yeah, me too." Katrina wasn't speaking as loudly as she normally might. Maybe she was still recovering from her date-gone-bad or maybe she didn't want to frighten him away with overenthusiasm.

An annoying buzz vibrated against her chair and Norah Jones wafted from her coat pocket. Pulling the phone from it, she looked at the caller I.D. before switching the call to her voicemail and slipping it back out of sight.

Frighten him? Frighten him? Frighten him?

... actually, she probably could. And does. But not with overenthusiasm, but with who she is and who she reminds him of.

He nods.

"Miss Sullivan..." pause. He almost called her Katrina again. "About earlier. I would appreciate it if you didn't ask about me too often."

She would probably melt if he ever did end up calling her by her first name.

Fingers moved from the cup (they were getting cold) to twist and tear at the napkin on the table.

"Yeah, OK."

That stupid boy, why did she have to go out with him?

"'M sorry."

"You needn't apologize, Miss Sullivan. It's merely... that I dislike discussing my history."

Because that history is so very painful. And it involves your father!

He shrugs.

"I like to keep things private." A small smile. "I don't even say anything about myself in author biographies."

Usually, it's just something along the lines of 'Dr. Barclay lives in Canada and teaches English.'

"It'd be ok if I asked how many books you've written, wouldn't it? And what they're about?"

Because she could probably figure that out on her own if she'd wanted to. But she'd much rather have a reason to further their interaction.

He nods.

"That's fine."

He leans back and thinks for a moment, putting together a mental list of the books that she, unnish, could handle.

And then he lists them off. There are about eight altogether that he deems suitable for mention to her, mostly in-depth looks at various mythological characters. His innish books run along a similar theme, but there are also magical textbooks in the mix, and the innish ones compare mythology to modern reality.

"Oh, neat," not just for something to say, but because of genuine interest.

That's surprising. Who knew that her straight-laced professor had a soft spot for ancient mythology? She wants to ask him how he got interested in it but remembers that she's not allowed to. For a second Katrina thinks about her best friend from high school. She'd known everything about mythology. Katrina makes a mental note to call her later.

Memory also sees fit to bring up that Katrina's friend had had her share of boyfriends. That makes her think what she'd have done in Katrina's earlier situation. And that makes her wonder if all boys are horny and rude at this age. Was Prof. Barclay that way as a teenager?

Bad thoughts, Katrina, bad thoughts.

Hands leave the napkin to seek the drink and she takes a sip.

..conversation dwindling...

"How's your coffee?"

Actually, he wouldn't mind talking more about the mythology. As long as she didn't ask about the bits that involve his personal experience with 'mythological' beings.

... heck, he wouldn't mind too much discussing some of that, as long as Azrael didn't enter into the conversation.

But she doesn't know that.

"Quite good."

... this conversation is getting rather dull. He should fix that, but he doesn't know how without putting himself in a position of more friendlieness than he really wants.

"So.." stir the iced coffee, "What's your favorite type of mythological," sip, "being?"

Alexander chuckles.

"I don't really go in for favorites, per se. Probably the ones that I find most fascinating are the various gods."

(I can't imagine why.)

"The similarities and differences between gods of different regions, for instance." He details a very common example that looks at the differences between Norse and Greek mythology, and how culture and climate are supposed to have influenced that.

He does that in one of his less mundane books, you know. Only it's looking at how different gods have changed through the years and how some have disappeared and such.

"Climate, really?" Yes! Thank God, something to take her mind off things!

"But wow, that's so cool. I mean, I've always seen a little similarity but you never think about factors like weather playing into it."

Hm. She switched from first to second person...people do that a lot.

"Well then out of the gods, then, you've got to have one you find particularly--" Norah Jones then interupted, as did the vibrating of her cell phone against the leg of the chair.

With a sigh and a roll of her eyes that wasn't necessarily annoyed, but more like slightly put out, Katrina pulled out the phone once more and read the text she'd been sent.

Alexander was saved from having to answer that particular unfinished question by the interruption of a decidedly welcome noise. (Probably it wouldn't have been as welcome in other circumstances, but that's beside the point.)

He reminds himself to breathe and not dwell on why he finds this particular god so fascinating...

Time to flee, perhaps.

Or... He shrugs. "Oh, I suppose I've always been intrigued by the muses of the Greeks. I could certainly use one of them whispering in my ear."

That, my dears, is known as evasion.

"Heh, couldn't we all?"

"OK then," she set the phone aside, "which muse would you choose and why?"

A purely spur of the moment, curiosity type deal. She's friendly, Alex, deal with it.

Damn it, it started to ring again. And yes, she said damn it without speaking at all.

....she answered it.