Lucius had recently arrived in the city and had begun to expose himself to the surrounding area. The city reeked with the odder of decay and sin. Lucius was the answer to the prayers of every dying mortal soul in Dematrie. Perjury from their sins and from their wasted lives. He flicked his long blonde hair to the side as it had gotten in the way of his eyes. The street was cold and dark and few mortals dared to walk the path of this desolate strip, encase they would run into some sort of a thug. A thug, Lucius would have loved to have been attacked by a thug and threatened for his possessions. The thug would have met his end of course but it would have been fun watching the mortal squirm for his life instead.

He walked up to the coffee house door and touched the brass handle and flew the door open. The coffee house was relatively busy for a night and multitudes of mortals where sat on their laptops jotting down information for their final exams it would seem. He turned his head and looked towards the woman behind the counter. She seemed perplexed, but I did have that effect on women. Lucius laughed inside his head. He approached the woman and let out his deep Italian voice.

“I would like, if I may, to have a delicious warm cup of coffee” The woman stood there for a moment to savour the very simplest of words before running away to get a cup of that concoction. While the woman was busy running about and performing useless tasks Lucius had the opportunity to look at the occupants of the coffee house in more detail. He scanned the room once with his eyes and he knew the life history of every mortal sitting in the house clasping a cup or typing on their laptop.

“Here you are sir” The woman spoke with the most false smile that he had ever encountered. “That will be three dollars”
“I don’t need to pay you, now leave” The women turned and left the coffee house still wearing her apron and carrying a tray. She stopped for a moment outside as Lucius could see through the window, confused as why she had come out she returned back inside.

“May I help you sir?” The falseness returned. Lucius said nothing but instead turned and walked to the table that was near the back and had the higher ground. Lucius sat on the comfortable chair that was shaped like that of something that was in style in the early 1600’s. Picking up a magazine from the table he placed it in front of his face and began to divulge the media that he loved so much.

Focused on her work, Tiffany, ran a silver-encircled finger down the row of references. She was working on one of her latest projects, mousy brown hair caught up in a ponytail that did not really want to stay up, so that she was continually brushing or blowing stray hair from her eyes.

Her fingers were poised still above the keys for a moment, then fell with clicking speed and accuracy to compose another line of the e-mail she was sending. This was so much faster than snail mail, and she was so thankful that this modern world of technology and electronics allowed her to send information from Point A to Point B in a matter of minutes. Soon, one of the research staffers on a digsite in Rome would be reading the information she had sent, along with a sampling of the study she had been doing here, along with her end of the research.

Her ring was a rose, twined about her pointer finger, sterling and, she decided idly, as she typed, in need of some polishing.

Her soft gray-blue eyes were intent as she reached around her computer, having difficulty picking up a sheaf of papers that were overstuffing a single manila folder. She balanced it precariously atop the stack from which she had been reading a moment before, using both hands to lift what was probably one of the largest coffee cups in the place, and sipping at it, before setting it aside on a napkin, and taking up her folder once more.

Opening it, she dug through it, settling it on her lap as she turned to the side, but the stack was bigger than her lap, and while she held the top pages, and managed to catch the last pages, the third of the papers she had had stuffed in between fanned out across the floor, disorganized and way out of order.

Groaning lightly, she irritatedly set aside what she held and rose, stooping to bein gathering them back, adjusting the glasses that were sliding down her nose. Yes, tonight was not her night. At least she had her coffee.

It was a good idea for Dr. Cowper to study here, because it was acollege hangout, and more often than not, she blended into the scene, safe from intrusion, and from the other local faculty in her field, since they rarely visited here.

Running her thumb along the edges, she was dismayed to see that the numbering was far from correct, and knew that this was going to take longer than she had hoped. Pausing, she turned her wrist up, examining the watch face, which told her that Mitchifer was probably going to wonder where she had disappeared to. She should probably call, she realized. He would not care, or dare intrude into her business, but she was getting used to the idea that it would be courteous to call home. It had been a while since she had felt the need to keep any kind of semblence of accountability with anyone...

Her attention shifted as the annoying bell on the door chimed at the re-entry of the cashier, and then focused back on picking up the errant loose leaves of paper.

"Oy vey. Curse paperwork..."