Damn coffee prices. They were always so high here. It was a monopoly! The managers knew that they had the best coffee, so they jacked up the price so you'd be hard pressed to find enough change to even buy a muffin to go with the elaborate flavoured coffee. Stupid people. There should be a law against this kind of injustice! Coffee should be cheap enough for anyone to buy! God knows everyone needed it at nine at night, which was the time at the moment.

Floriana sat drinking her triple triple mocha and looking over case reports. What had gotten into this city? Whatever it was, it was no piece of pie. The murders were getting outrageous. As one of the people who had to investigate said murders, the woman was getting a bit ticked off. There was only so many times she could see bodies displayed in horrendous fashions before she got past being completely disgusted and moved on to rage. Stupid idiots. They probably thought murders were fun. Well, they weren't for her. It meant longer hours. It was a damn good thing she liked her job.

"But Floriana! It is no place for a woman to be dancing around corpses every night," had complained her mother. "My friend Sofia has a grandson who would love to-"

"No madre," she'd replied. "Besides, I'm not so much dancing around them, as cutting them apart." This had led to a whole other argument.

Shaking her head, Floriana tried not to think of her parents. They were annoying, especially her mother, who was always trying to fix her up. Turning the page of the report over angrily, she took a sip of her coffee... and almost spit it back out. With fumbling fingers, she closed the report folder, panting. Geez! What had they been thinking, throwing in a picture of the corpses. I mean, yuk! It wasn't like she hadn't seen it. If possible, she was even more annoyed.

Oh yeah, it was a very good thing she liked her job.

After quite a day at the dojo, with the handlings of ownership and the like, Adrian was groaning in mental soreness, aswell as physical. Recent events had him being more careful then usual, with a few bruised ribs, and a slightly swollen lip that he had aquired a day or so ago. Though he was generally a happy being, but he felt so tired! He could have collapsed on the way there (Which wouldn't have been very good for those wounded ribs)! The sensai pushed open the door with his flat palm, his gray blue eyes traveling over the people inside, before zooming in on the counter, his center focus point. Coffee, coffee, coffee..... he chanted in his mind. Blurting out as he reached the counter, which was suprisingly easy to get to since there was a line of few, Adrian slid a ten dollar bill across, "Anything strong... anything... suprise me." He murmered, looking rather dog tired. He was given a number, and went to wait, picking a rather drab corner to sit in, away from the other people. With a groan, poor Adrian layed his head down on his crossed forearms as soon as he sat down, nuzzling into them. A gasp, however, left him suddenly as he felt the stress on his ribs, and had to quickly straighten out to make the throbbing pain subside. "Nnnn...damnit..." He whimpered, though gave a light smile. Well, he had gotten it from his Dojo, and he knew that there were consequences for doing what he did, so ... he wasn't really suprised.

He had waited there approximately seven minutes and fourty-two seconds (he had timed it secretly) before his name was called. Standing slowly, so as not to pull anything else.. he sauntered over to the opposite counter, and gave his number to the youth behind, taking the drink along with him. It was at that moment that he had heard the unforgettable sound of someone spitting... Lifting his attention just a little, he saw the woman, and lifted a brow. "Well.... the coffee here is that bad, hmm?" He asked her, chuckling quietly. "I should have gone to the little place around the other corner then.."

Floriana glared at the offending folder. It was Satan reincarnated... of course, that's what she said about everything that bugged her, but this time it was for real damn it! Yes, we're the forensics. Let's just put colour photos in this report so that Detective Ramirez can make a a complete and utter fool out of herself while sitting in a coffee shop. Stupid people. They could have at least left a little sticky note. "Danger: Colour photos! Do not open in coffee shop!" With a snort, Floriana decided that that was asking too much of the C.S.I. team.

There was a voice - a man's voice - from behind her, commenting on what he'd obviously seen, aka, her almost spitting out her coffee. Slowly turning around, she saw the man who had spoken, or who she assumed had spoken, and the clerk eyeing her suspiciously from behind the counter. With her professional smile on (this was the smile that looked nice, but required no happiness whatsoever), she replied, "No, no, no! It's just... It was hot! Yes, that it's. Hot... was what it was... as I have already said. Okay." Wincing, she turned around so that he wouldn't see her blush or her mouthing the words angrily over again.

Truth be told, the guy didn't look like he was in the best of shape. I mean, his physique was good (you'd have to be blind not to see that), but he seemed kind of beat up. Floriana's eyes widened. What if he'd been in a gang fight? With PCP involved! And tazer lasers! Almost immediately, she shook her head, discarding the ludicrous thoughts. Sometimes, her mind just ran away with her.

Adrian chuckled lightly. He had paused, and waited for her to comment, thankfully she had, (otherwise he would have looked like a fool himself). "Ahh... I see..." He nodded, "Well if it's that hot.. I better let mine cool off, don't you think?" He asked, heading her way. "Are you alright, then? Burn your tongue?" That was kind of an odd question, which made himself shake his head inwardly... 'Idiot.' He thought to himself, 'That was quite stupid of you, Adrian.' He cleared his throat, ran a hand through his short curled locks, and moved away. "Forgive me... You don't have to answer that." He chuckled quietly, his own cheeks picking up the faint coloration of rose. Figuring that was quite the inappropriate question, the male frowned, and headed toward his table, pulling the seat out carefully, before taking it, and resting his back firmly there.

(Short....;-; )

~ Syaoran stalked into the cafe, his back slouched and his hands in his pockets. He felt lousy tonight. Like someone had whacked him several times in the head with a sledge hammer and went off him with a jack hammer too. It was just another shit night coming his way.

He made his way up to the counter. Through the corner of his fiery, Syaoran first spotted a woman sitting with a rather large folder...

Cop...

and then Adrian sitting at a table by himself. The ancient could tell he was suffering still from the blow he had caused him a couple of nights ago. With his coffee ordered, Syaoran took the liberty of approaching him.

'Good evening, Mr. Adrian.' He greeted politely before bowing. 'I did not expect to meet you here.'

Floriana pretended to look at the muffin menu as a man walked in. He had a strange look about him, and there was something off with him... She didn't know exactly what it was, but she had a hunch that he was not some normal guy coming in to get some coffee. He seemed too... wise for coffee, if that made any sense... which on further reflection, it didn't.

He walked up to the man that had commented before. He said a very formal hello, and warning bells went off in the woman's head. OH... MY... GOD. Floriana was frozen. She suddenly understood how this Adrian guy - whether that was his last name or his first name, she couldn't tell - had gotten all those cuts and bruises and things. This guy who had just walked in was with... The Mafia.

Now, she knew that the Mafia generally dealt with Russians and Italians, but hello! He screamed mafia! He'd probably beat up the Adrian guy when the Adrian guy hadn't proccured the drugs they'd wanted or something! Oh yeah, that was it. And the formal tones? It was a threat waiting to happen. Resisting the urge to grab her gun, she watched them suspiciously.

~ Syaoran could feel eyes on him. But in a way...it didn't trouble him. He always had people staring at him.

"Ahh! Syaoran, it's a pleasure to see you again." The sensai smiled, standing to nod appropriately. "Yes well... I wasn't expecting to be here, accually, I just stopped by for some coffee... " He gave an audible sigh, and sat back down, straightening his back, his eyes on his coffee as he took a sip of it. "I had a lot to deal with today, so I'm quite tired to say the least... both physically and mentally." He admitted, though smiled sincerely at the male beside him. "Please... take a seat... And we can converse a little."

Again, he took another sip of his coffee, running a hand subconciously through his hair again... it was out of habit. "And what are you doing here, Mr. Syaoran? You were the last person I thought I would see here."

~ Syaoran shrugged one shoulder.

'Coffee.' He muttered while taking a seat. 'How are you fairing?' The ancient asked, his fiery eyes shining brightly. 'I hope your pain will subside soon.' He took up his own coffee and sipped it. Coffee sure wasn't as good as blood. Looking up to Adrian, he stated; 'this would be a good time to dicuss my funding with you.'

((OOC: There you go Naf...something to feed off...))

Okay, maybe not Mafia. Floriana admited that as a little silly. Besides, if the Mafia were in town, she'd probably know it. Though sworn to secrecy on pain of death (quite literally), she knew for a fact that Uncle Paolo was in said Mafia... or as close as one could come. He did all the errands and stuff for them. Floriana wasn't sure what these people were called, and she wasn't sure she cared. Hell, if he hadn't been family and he hadn't sworn that he'd gut her like a fish if she told him, she'd have arrested him by now.

But hearing their conversation, she realized that she might not have been that far off the mark. So they weren't in the Mafia. That's okay. Her knew theory consisted of one of them (probably the Chinese dude) being underground King Pins of the crime world. If they were so good, it would explain why they weren't wanted. Nobody could trace them! And why would they meet in a coffee shop? Because an abandoned warehouse was a dead giveaway! Yes, she'd known it all along.

The Adrian guy was probably high up, and had been sent to get some illegal guns or something, but had a mishap, and got the crap beaten out of him. Either that, or a rival dealer was beat him up. That would explain why Chinese dude was still trying to fund him. See, she was meant for this work.

Adrian lifted a brow, "You were serious about that?" He asked, quiet shocked. "I thought it was just something you mentioned just to seem kind." He mused, taking another long sip of his coffee. 'Well... He was serious... good lord....' He almost lost his breath. "I don't know what to say.... Thats quite generous of you. Since we have only met once before this... and you offer me so much." He was still quite stunned, "You know, I don't think anyone else would be so trusting... What if my business goes out of style.. and I have to... move out of town?" He paused, "I mean, I'm glad you trust me... But why?" He asked, curious.

~ Syaoran's eyebrow visibly twitched. Not because of Adrian...but because of the thoughts of the woman near them.

Pigs these days...honestly.

The ancient pulled his thoughts back to the topic.

'Because people like you should be admired. You work so hard...and for something truly worth the while. The arts are extremely important and you are teaching them to children who may pass it down. And for that...I am grateful.' He admitted full-heartedly, before taking another sip of his coffee.

Listening to them, Floriana was almost certain that her theory had been correct. It was when Chinese dude talked again that she realized that she was probably being paranoid. Like a crime king and his minion would meet here, especially with a police folder sitting right on her desk. She felt a pang of disappointment. She wanted an actual criminal, not just a bunch of corpses. They were getting old very fast.

This being said, she wondered what they were really talking about. Shrugging, she realized that she had no idea. Picking up her folder, she began to leaf through it. There was a loud gasp from beside her, and before Floriana knew it, there was coffee being poured all over the table by a petrified waitress who had seen the photos. Trying to save the file by making a hasty exit, she sliped on the spilt coffee, and sent the folder flying.

It seemed to go in slow motion from there. Floriana was tempted to yell out, "Nooooooooooooo!" but refrained. It would not look good. What looked even worse was the fact that there were pictures of a man who had been stitched into skin that had been sliced from his best friend. There were pictures of said best friend, pink and fleshy due to lack of skin. There were pictures of the blood, and of the main victim after the attached skin had been removed. All in all, it was not a pretty sight, and Floriana realized that she had made a big faux pas. Most of the customers stared at the pictures for a few seconds. Some screamed, some threw up, and all in all, it was a big mess.

Adrian lifted a brow as he suddenly heard the gasp, and realized what was happening just a few seconds to late as the foulder went wizzing by. "What the devil?" He groaned. 'Oh it has been a strange night, Adrian... maybe you should just go home and get some sleep and it will all be over. A new day, right?" He asked himself, rubbing at a brow as he looked from the fallen woman, to the foulder, suddenly realizing just what those pictures were of. "Oh good god..." He hissed, eyeing the corpses, as he stood, and gathered the things, putting them all back into the foulder, walking toward the woman. "You........ dropped these?" He winced, handing them her way.