Sunlight flashed through the windows of the busy little coffee shop as the day swiftly got brighter and hotter. Unfortunately, it didn't manage to get too warm - only about 40*F, as a matter of fact - but neither heat or cold had ever really bothered Ania. Dressed all in black, her leather pants and spaghetti string shirt complimented her sexy, high-heeled, open-footed sandals well, to such an extent that the attracted the usual amount of attention from the boys. But she wasn't here to flirt, unless they tried it first. She just wanted some coffee.

She got the darkest, richest coffee she could get and sat down at one of the window tables. About a dozen people were all rushing around behind the counter, making the coffee in its various flavors and dosages of caffeinated and decafeinated and low-fat and lots of cream. There were at least twice as many people before the counter as there were behind it, though, and it was starting to get quite noisy despite people having their own private conversations in low tones. But Ania didn't mind. She thought it was funny the way everyone was so self-absorbed that they really didn't realize there were - 'people' - like Ania out there. Ania herself wondered just how many demons were out there - there had to be hundreds of billions, big as hell was from the stories the street preachers were always trying to sell to the general population of Bayfield, yet she knew only her parents - and she wasn't about to go ask them.

So Ania just sat there admiring the people, wondering whom would be the first to ask her out as she jammed to Fear Factory on her iPod and drank her 24oz Dark Columbian Roast with caramel. She let her skin tan a bit as the rest of the population milled about, getting their coffees and bagels and pastries and heading off to work, to school, to college, or to hang with their friends.

A man walked by with a very large suitcase and stopped to order a bagel. He checked his watch as the lady got it for him. It was when he turned and walked away after paying, however, that Ania swiped his paper. No one even noticed. He laughed silently to herself. Even if they had, there wouldn't have been much that they could do about it.

She flipped through the pages, scanning some of the stories but not really finding anything of interest. She tossed the paper aside when she was through reading it, and some guy asked if he could have it. She waved it away as she finished her coffee. Wanting another cup, though, she waved the waitress over and ordered. It was brought to her and she paid. She sipped it as she watched the crowd shifting as though playing musical chairs.

A slim young man takes advantage of the shifting crowds to slip into the seat opposite her as if he'd always been there. His smile is as seamless as his appearance, dark blue slacks and collared midnight blue shirt, black hair too short to need a comb and a practiced smile that lit up his eyes.

He has a cup of something or other in one hand which he places on the table, a backpack slung over one shoulder, and he is very much the picture of someone who is together, at ease with the world, and thoroughly a student.

He slips the backpack off, parking it by his foot, and pauses to get a book out.

Had it not been for the backpack, Ania might have thought the man the greasy type with the cheesy smile and the slick words. The backpack made him for a student, but nonetheless a high-class student. He probably went to some prep school and hung out with the philosophers and the creative writers. Nerd was written nowhere on his face, though stuck up and rich both seemed to be.

And the book was clear evidence of Ania's first impression, too. "The Basics of Taoism." A religious man? Or perhaps a philosophy text book, as originally surmised? Either way, she wasn't at all her type of guy - not unless the book thing was something he didn't really want to be reading. If he was really a party animal underneath all that, great; he'd suit her well. But she wasn't about to waster her time and energy trying to find out. If he was a stuck-up preppy, let him be a stuck-up preppy on his own. Ania disregarded him and continued to silently watch the crowd as she sipped her coffee.

He'd be hurt if he could read minds. Really, truly he would. Stuck up preppy is such a terrible way to refer to a-

Come to think of it, it's very accurate, isn't it.

He, however, can't read minds. Instead, he can read his book, and watch her over the edge of it. She fits all his criteria for interesting (pretty, female), and he needs no other reason to use her as a pleasant distraction from the otherwise dull book.

The word for the book actually isn't dull. Mind-numbing comes to mind, or soul-killing in its dryness. Think Origin of Species crossed with Pride and Prejudice.

With footnotes.

He doesn't bother to be circumspect in his regard, glancing in her direction every paragraph or so - during the trickier passages, every sentence or so.

He's a people person. Having company is pleasant, even if the company does not currently deign to talk to him.

So, he really was a nerd. That explained the looks he was shooting her way every 3.5 seconds, anyway. If they were even spaced that far apart.

God, what a total dweeb, Ania thought to herself as she took another long sip of her coffee. It should have been odd to her - anyone else would have been scalded very badly by such hot coffee, but she was a regular here and had always gotten coffee this hot. Being a demon had more advantages than disadvantages, it seemed. But back to the subject.

"If you were any more obvious, I'd be chopping up your nose for firewood."

Pinochio. Hah. Yeah, that was a bad one. But it fit, in a way; though the kid wasn't lying about anything - he hadn't said a word, for that matter - he was just as big a nerd. Ania didn't even look at him as when she spoke, just continued to watch the crowd.

He grins.

"I didn't know noses burned."

He apparently had never heard any Russian fairy tales, either. Actually, Ania thought she might have heard something similar here in Canada, as well, but it was the Russian fairy tale that she'd heard (obviously).

"I have a lighter if you'd like to find out."

"How sweet."

He wonders vaguely if they're joking, and decides he doesn't care one way or another.

"Do you want something, nerd?"

She sipped her coffee. This guy didn't give up, did he? Boy, he was pathetic.

"Do I look like I want something?" He counters.

As an insult, he considered, 'nerd' was a bit weak. She'd have to do better than that.

This was getting real old real fast.

"Either take a photograph or tell me why your eyes are plastered to my tits."

"Be fair. I was looking at your face half the time."

In his opinion, she has a pretty face.

Note that he is avoiding the question.

"And the other half?"

Pervert. Why is it guys only have one fucking thing on their sick minds?

"Your hair."

Liar, liar, pants on fire....

"I like your hair."

He grins, as if he actually had been looking at her hair for the past five minutes.

"Right."

Uh-huh. Yeah, and pigs flew in golden skies filled with cotton candy balloons. Her ass.

"Why don't you go back to kindergarten and hit on your teacher?"

He is very tempted to say 'nah, girls aren't my thing', just to mess with her head. He refrains.

"I don't want to."

Isn't that a great reason for doing just about anything?

"Then go find a hooker and leave me the hell alone. Some of us actually like to enjoy our coffee in peace."

She took off the lid of her cup to release a huge cloud of steam hot enough to melt steel. She then downed the remainder of the drink and left the cup sitting there.

"You want me? You can have my coffee droplets. Now buzz off."

She got up and headed for the door; she had a feeling the guy would follow her, but she wasn't going to sit there like a deer in headlights.

He isn't that desperate.

In point of fact, he really isn't desperate at all. He just likes talking to people, and she qualifies under 'people'.

So, no, he isn't going to follow her.

Oh well.

She stepped outside and walked down the street.

He got a table to himself, who is he to complain?

He'll throw her cup away when he goes to get a refill on his own drink. He's nice that way.