Welcome to Gaia! ::

Who: Fiach, Brad, Nigh, Dean
When: Afternoon
Where: iJava-Bahn

If you want to join us, please ask. :3

It was one of those rare days that Brad willingly left his loft without threat, bodily force or emergency. Actually, it was more that he hadn't gone shopping in a while and wanted a drink, which prompted him to pay a visit to the next best thing: iJava-Bahn. Dressed in dark blue jeans, a black turtle neck and a long black jacket, he was more than bundled for the cool weather outside, and wasn't quite prepared for the warmth of the cafe. He didn't think Alani was working, but it was okay for once, as he contentedly ordered a cup of hazelnut coffee and took a seat in the WiFi section.

Once there, he unsnapped his silver and black laptop - he really did take it everywhere with him - opening it. The screen sprang to life with a new background of an Alliance scene from WoW. The man almost choked on his coffee, only managing not to in fear of spewing the scalding liquid all over his precious machine. He knew it was Nigh's work, if not soley for the fact the Hacker imposed himself in the picture, perched on the drawn hammer of a human Paladin.

Brad did the strangest thing possible, and smiled at it. Nigh was a kid...no, his kid, and the little brat often did things like that to get his attention. The man sighed softly, speaking lowly enough that most may not hear him, but his intended audience would. "Nigh, if you want to play, go ahead--"

World of Warcraft instantly sprang to life, information filling itself in as the Hacker logged in. The man chuckled to himself, draping his jacket over his chair, nursing his coffee between his hands.

Brad did, in fact, miss Fiach coming in and hiding. He was watching Nigh gleefully slaughter things in the beginning area for the Gnomes, bemused as the Hacker played his Rogue with far too much enthusiasm. "Ah, over there, that's where those things are you need to kill," he offered to the Gnome that was spinning in circles, pointing to the side of the screen. The Gnome actually whooped with exuberance, charging towards the indicated area, and...stopped moving completely.

Unfortunately, Nigh did not miss Fiach. No siree, the internet did not lie, especially WiFi with its fast and tasty streams of information! Nigh, being as ADD as any child, turned his Gnomish self around as though he was looking at Brad, his black box popping up with white text near the Gnome's mouth.

The man blinked at the Gnome, perplexed. "What? Laptop?" He glanced around nonchalantly, spying many laptops, but only one that didn't seem to have an owner.



"Who?"



Brad stared at his laptop screen, slowly feeling his muscles sieze up for no apparent reason. Great. He'd come to relax and enjoy coffee, and the one person on the planet who probably never wanted to see him again stepped into the cafe. The man sighed deeply, murmuring, "Stay where you are. Don't move," to Nigh. In a languid motion, Brad stood and walked to the ordering counter, speaking quietly to the barista there. "Could you deliver a cup of coffee to the table by the door? There's a laptop and the man is behind it." He slid a single bill to the woman, one that more than paid for the coffee. "My treat. Thanks."

Before she could protest, Brad returned to his seat, casting his quiet indigo eyes towards the man in question. "I hope it's him and I didn't just really confuse someone."

Nigh continued to play as Brad sat down; he knew better than to play without his human near by, especially since Brad had threatened to uninstall the game if he ever caught him doing it. Truthfully, the Hacker could care less about Fiach when he had WoW to play, but he had not forgotten the man's kindness.

Shock rippled briefly over Brad's features, almost knocking his chair over in his effort to stand to greet the man. "Fiach," he said awkwardly, glancing just about anywhere but the man himself. "I hope you'll accept my apology for my atrocious behavior the first time we met. First impressions, and all that, well...you know...I blew it." Sucking up his wounded pride, Brad lifted his gaze to look Fiach in the eye - noting in surprise that they were the same height - and getting an eyeful of his bruises.

"Jesus," he said quietly, pulling out a chair and motioning to it with a little urgency, "Sit, please...hey, are you all right?" Brad skimmed Fiach's face with his indigo orbs, frowning a little. What the hell happened?

The Gnome stopped his happy slaughtering to turn and look up at his human's change of tone. The Rogue ran up to the screen, blinking heavy-browed eyes up at the beaten man.

Brad retook his seat, his dark brow creased in a faint sign of worry, waiting for the other man to talk. He glanced briefly at his laptop, catcing sight of Nigh's comment. "Nigh," he warned, more stern than angry, "that's not nice."

The Gnome blinked. Real wounds weren't something the child had ever seen before.

Brad's usually neutral face quirked into a sideways smile, affording his expression a small amount of warmth. "What's a smart chap like you doing getting into fights?" His question was posed with light-heartedness, not intending to make Fiach uncomfortable. The man was, however, mentally kicking himself for being so stunted in interactions with other people; it occured to him that the embarrassed grin was probably the only genuine show of a smile that Fiach had given him since they'd met. Brad felt like a monster.

The Hacker quickly went about his business, the Gnome fading back into his normal position before he resumed his questing. There was little that could distract Nigh from his games, not even the human that had been so nice.

"Nothing to worry about," Brad echoed quietly, lifting his mug to take a gulp of his coffee. Despite his words, his eyes suggested that he wouldn't simply dismiss the issue, not easily. Placing his mug back down, the older man rubbed the back of his neck beneath shaggy black hair, crossing a leg. "You hungry? They have good scones and snacks." He paused in his rubbing motion, trying not to be so obvious of his scrutiny of the other's wounds.

Dean strolls down the sidewalk in a daze. He hadn't gotten any sleep last night and it was painfully obvious. His body, for one reason or another, LOVES to show off how tired he is. As if a bloodshot eye and a weary posture aren't bad enough, his eyes tend to develop unusually noticeable dark circles beneath them. This would go unnoticed under his right "eye," due to his patch. Hiding one eye does nothing, however, to conceal how worn he appears.

As is habitual for Dean, he wears blue denim jeans and a pair of black sneakers. A black t-shirt with a large yellow pacman adorns his torso. At his side is his laptop case, ready to explode and scatter his papers and accessories if made to hold any more junk. His iPod, strangely, remains off while his headphones rest around his neck. Not even blasting techno into his head would wake him up today.

"Hmmm?" he mutters quietly, noticing a coffee shop as he's walking. Coffee! Now, that's a good idea! Or a bad idea... Either way, it'll wake me up. A sly smirk forms from his lips as he opens the door to the shop, Dean knowing all too well what he's going to get into (for the most part). Wasting time, he zigzags about tables in a rather unnecessary manner until he comes to stand at the front counter to order. "If you could," he begins to ask the barista, "I'd like a triple shot of espresso." He reaches his right hand down to shuffle through his pants for some cash.

Fiach gazed down at his coffee cup at Brad's response. He wanted to sink down into his chair and slouch, to try to get away from him. Unknowingly, he breathed a sigh of relief as the older man said he'd get snacked. He perked up a little at the idea of food, but blushed and ducked his head a little at the mention of ice. "They're not that bad...really..." Even to himself, the attempt at passing the injuries off as nothing sounded half empty.

As soon as Brad walked off, Fiach's curiosity at exactly what the hacker was doing overtook him and he shifted position to better see what was said on screen.

In a soft whisper, he watched the hacker's character on the game as he stood still as could be.

"What do you mean its like a bad game of red light green light?"

"Dean? Oh, excuse me." Brad shifted his indigo eyes from the snack counter to the man in question, offering a brief, apologetic smile. "Thought they were talking to me." He inclined his head politely, glancing to the barista who gave him a very quizical look. "Sorry," he mumbled, "I've been here like, three times in ten minutes. Can't help it."

the black chat box with white writing explained. The word 'stop' flashed in red, and 'go' in green, emphasizing his dismay. The Gnome's head turned just in the slightest, enough that only Fiach would likely see. There were a few music notes that accompanied his question, trying to be innocent and likely failing miserably.

The man fished a toothpick out of a near by canister, looking over the snack area. "How about..." His gaze shifted to Fiach, then back to the food display. The younger man had seemed quite hungry. "...sandwiches. Pick three of your favorites, I'm not picky. Maybe a few of your holiday scones too."

Brad paid the appropriate amount (plus a tip for feeling like he was harassing the poor woman), taking up a side of the counter where he could wait for his order without being an obstruction to the line. Scratching his jaw, his attention moving towards the fellow with the eye patch, who he found was also looking at him in turn. Apparently the man was good at blundering first impressions. Breathing deeply through his nose, he offered a tight smile, "Sorry about that. Just a higher dose than what I normally hear."

Dean nods his head in recognition of Brad's apology before straightening his posture and turning to face the rather tall man before him. In doing so, he allows his worn and tired face to display itself easily for Brad and any others nearby. For that matter, people across the shop would be able to notice now. "It's okay," he says softly, forcing a smile. "I've been working a lot, lately. I can't survive without a little fun, though. So I end up forsaking sleep to make time for work and play..." His sight begins to wander toward the floor at his left side for a moment, but Dean appears to catch himself doing so. Straightening his gaze toward the man once again, he offers, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been staring, myself. I just feel vulnerable... like everybody can tell that I'm worn. It's an embarrassing feeling."

He laughs nervously for a moment before falling into silence. His eye wanders once again to random objects around him. Why am I blabbing? Just saying, "I haven't slept much," would have done well enough. I really am tired... trying to tell people my life story.