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Anthony's frown deepened as the figure lost the shape and stature of his brother and became someone entirely different. And much to his surprise he seemed to be tangible too. He needed to recover from prom and the events that had transpired before where he had been wounded so badly. Crime Never sleeps, He smirked to himself.

The figure that he had mistaken for his brother was an odd fellow, even to Anthony's standards. He had started making conversation to the woman in front of him (whom Anthony was serving too, much to his irritance) but came off as pushy, perhaps even cynical. Not that Anthony could say anything. Whoever he was Anthony got a bad vibe from him and decided to interject, "Excuse me sir I'll be with you just after I finish her order." He said trying not to let his satisfaction show.

"Hot. Irish Breakfast, with extra Irish," she replied, after a little deliberation. The guy behind the counter looked a little distracted, and he seemed to be getting tenser and tenser. She decided not to comment on that... he doesn't seem to be in a receptive mood.

She then realized there was somebody behind her. Sometimes you could just tell. It might've been body heat or shadows or a change in the air right next to her skin, but something told her there was an unfamiliar presence behind her and that it was close. Then, she got a tap on the shoulder to confirm her suspicions. After hearing his little line, she chuckled. But, before she could give her little analysis, the two men decided to start sniping at each other. This, she decided, would be a very fun day. The other boy seemed to act like a complete jerk, which could be quite interesting. She decided to join in. "You never know. In this city, I wouldn't be surprised if he could. Not that he'd be able to do it out in public--I'm afraid the poor boy has to do it all by himself."

She turned around to face the troublemaker. "So, you're trying to make friends by being annoying and blunt, eh? So, does friendship merely require consent? Or, perhaps, you're looking for a fence. Then again, for better or worse, you do seem like an honest gentleman. Then perhaps you can answer this for me: what is your purpose for life?"

"Excellent, Your total comes to four dollars even. We'll have that right out for you ma'am," Anthony said as cheerily as he deemed necessary. Now he heard a voice in the back of his head that was telling him not to trust this man. He gritted his teeth, even the evil can't be denied service in a public place in broad daylight. "And what can I get started for you sir?" He said adressing the man who seemed to be locked in conversation with the woman, though he seemed a little uninterested, at least this was the impression Anthony got with that monotone voice.

He couldn't help but smile with a little satisfaction in interupting this man's conversation. And the best part was he didn't have to hide this smile because smiling was considered friendly in a coffee shop. The voice in his head told him to be cautious, and he would heed this advice for the moment, at least until he knew what this man was capable of. But then a second, calmer voice came in. It was that of his deceased monk friend warning him not to assess everyone as a threat.

Unfortunately for said monk's wise advice the cups around Anthony spontaneously fell over with no particular cause and the man accused Anthony of knocking them over. Anthony's threat assesment of this man suddenly went through the roof and his brain was going haywire with alerts. "How odd that cups should fall seemingly on their own," He said as his eyes narrowed, "I'd best get someone to help clean that up then. Afterall someone has to keep things running smoothly."

Mariana handed over a five-dollar bill and turned around, casually ignoring the fact that she should expect to receive change. "Well, I DID ask for your meaning of life--that is to say, the meaning of your life. Interesting reply, though. You say that you want your self-concept to be precise, yet you imply that it is relative. It's not an entirely unreasonable position, so long as you can reason it well." She looked into his eyes pointedly, watching his deadpan mask crack around the edges. However, it was then that the two boys started up again with their petty little argument. She wouldn't have this. "You both insist that this place must be kept in order. Are you both quite certain of that? The way I see it, a little bit of controlled chaos never hurt anybody. After all, that's the way things work here, isn't it? You never know when the next customer will show up or what they're going to order, and there are so many options. You can't prepare very much ahead of time--you simply adjust to the maelstrom this sort of business can sometimes be. In fact, is it not the presence of chaos that allows us to fully appreciate order? Is it not chaos, too, that leads to freedom? If you live your life following a strict set of rules simply because you're required to do so, there's no honor in that. It's when you make a conscious, free-will decision in the presence of alternatives that distinguishes your character." She waited a few seconds to let that sink in, but upon glancing over at the barista's hands, she added: "Oh... and don't forget the 'extra Irish'. I want mine so Irish I can see little leprechauns dancing along the rim of the cup, yeh?"

Anthony's jaw could've broken with the tension he was carrying because of these two. "Of course ma'am, the customer is always right afterall." He turned away from the two of them and adressed an issue that the man had pointed out: Where were his subordinates? He fetched a danish for the man and quickly set to steeping the tea before leaving to the manager's office. After making a few phone calls he found out that Beth was indeed supposed to work today and would be in shortly.

As he sat at the phone he pulled the detective's card out and dialed the number on the card but then hung up the phone and walked back out into the cafe. He finished steeping the tea and poured it into a mug and took it to the women and smiled, "Irish breakfast tea extra Irish." He couldn't wait til his shift was over. He rolled his shoulders and grimaced in agony.

MYTHOS

Mythos nodded at the girl for a moment. He had underestimated her. She wasn't the usual type of girl that the Mastermind had talked about: flirtatious, revealing, desperate. Mythos sensed spunk in this girl's attitude and the more she talked, the more comfortable with his new friend he became. "I apologize if I offended you my friend. No harm was intended." Mythos said coolly, his face still showing no signs of emotion.

He took the pastry that had been sitting on the counter for him and reached into his pocket, leaving the exact amount of money on the counter. Mastermind had been very generous with all of the stolen money he had acquired over the years. Mythos had more than enough. Without even taking a bite out of the pastry he threw it into the garbage. "But how about starting with the 'hot spots' in Delmor if you will. I am most interested where everyone or where you and your friends hang out..."

MYTHOS

Mythos laughed in his own mind. This girl seemed very full of herself and was bursting with overconfidence for in fact Mythos had given his name to the girl a while ago even though it was a fake one; Daniel. But nevertheless, he had some sort of feeling of liking towards her. She was pretty... well... cool, something Mythos never really felt before. This girl was starting to become his friend and not only was this the Mastermind's plan, but it was also making Mythos feel... great.

Mythos let out a monotone chuckle and decided not to tell this girl that he had already given his name to her. He didn't think this was necessary for after all, she was going to end up showing him around, something that Mythos knew would help him in the long run. "My name is Daniel. And you are?" Mythos asked for actually, the girl had never told Mythos her name.