Another lovely night... Angelo mused, muffled only slightly by the thick black-and-white scarf wrapping about his lower face and throat. To him, it was cold
out. A dark gray sweater and some study black jeans supported the idea, some boots to match, tucked under his pant legs. He was walking away from the
infamous Très Chic, order safely in hand after some monotone arguing with a counterperson, a vanilla frappucinno, nothing more or less, had attempted some
mocha change halfway through the order... what people. He sighed, shaking a head full of curls and pulled the Jack Skellington beanie down, keeping on his way.
Ah, how he missed the smaller cities, with their quaint establishments, scarcely flooded and friendly, a place where you didn't hesitate to sit down... but
THAT. THAT was certainly not one of those places. He walked a block or so away from the building and took root on a bench, not so much sitting as
crouching on it, one arm laid comfortably over his lap. A break? Yes... he might walk, but it didn't mean he liked to. Driving, though... no, didn't like it either.
Damn, I'm picky...
Setting the cup down, Angelo went to unwrap the scarf partly, leaving it draped 'round his neck, and gave a small shiver as an annoying breeze swept through.
I hate this weather... The soft mutter stated, as he reached for the drink and began to nurse it, watching a few people walk past, his attention wandering from
person to person.
