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Zebulon tucked himself into the corner of his favorite corner cafe.

The university area was peppered with them. They knew the college crowd well--cafes were a common place to sit and work, or sit and chatter with friends where a cheap eat or a cheap drink could be obtained. Even in the evening--perhaps especially in the evening--there seemed to be plenty of people there.

That was part of why Zebulon enjoyed this location so much, admittedly.

He had become fairly familiar with the regulars and their stories. Edwin, a fellow professor in the mathematics department, spent a lot of time there in-between when his last class got out for the day and when he had to go home to his wife, who he wasn't particularly fond of. Straight people, he noted, but the drama he sometimes lamented about to another professor friend, Matthew, was amusing. There was a group of sorority girls who always came in at about six PM and sat in a circle, usually chattering about the next party or attractive boys or what they thought about the new pledge class. There were the studious ones, of course, and he definitely took note when he saw one of his own students there, head in their laptop.

Lorelai seemed to be in the cafe that day. He nodded at her when she noticed him, but he wasn't about to be that weird professor who went up to the students in the wild and tried to loop them into a chemistry conversation.

She'd come over if she was interested.

Besides, she looked particularly stressed. He hoped it wasn't due to the analytical assignment that was due the next day. It wasn't his goal to stress his students, even if it tended to come with the territory...

He leaned back and sipped at his tea, keeping his eyes lifted just above the rim to watch the others in the cafe. Maybe he'd see someone interesting.

Or hear something interesting. A juicy story was always fun. Too bad Elliot was in Europe or some nonsense--

The very tall woman with wild hair who waltzed on into the cafe definitely qualified as someone interesting.

For one, he didn't recognize her. She wasn't one of the regular customers he saw at the cafe, tall with wild hair or not. Her outfit was a bit unusual, but nothing he hadn't seen some form of on campus. (Or maybe in certain clubs, if he was being honest with himself. He had definitely seen similar outfits out on the strip--)

And she was coming towards him.

Zebulon shifted in his seat, straightening out for the new arrival, curious about why she was approaching him. Usually, people for the most part left him alone in the cafe unless there were no other seats or they recognized him--

Or just remark on his presence in the back. Definitely interesting.

He shot a grin back. "Of course. Y'all can get the best view of the place back here. And all of the stories, of course. Better entertainment than TV."

That slight twang likely sounded familiar, too.

It didn't miss his notice that her grin suddenly faltered. Did she realize something? Zebulon cocked his head slightly, taking another sip of his tea.

When he finished, he asked, "You make a habit of strolling on over to random men in the cafe?"

"Confident!"

Zebulon could admire the confidence though, all things considered. She had to be confident to just slide into a random booth--

"I can appreciate that," Zebulon tilted his tea towards her, in a fake cheer, before taking another sip of it. He wondered if she was generally confident or if it was a result of her height. It was unlikely many people tried to intimidate her considering how tall she was. She probably intimidated most men at her height, honestly. The thought amused him for a moment, but he passed over it, glancing around her for a moment to look at the others in the cafe.

It then occurred to him he did have to glance around her.

She seemed to be awful tall for a booth--

"Looks a little lonely, but isn't." He laughed. "I come here almost daily after classes. It's primo entertainment before I go back home to my husband."

He smirked. "So what, fixing to head to a club and got a bit thirsty and chatty?"

Definitely seemed like the type of person who might have gained confidence from never necessarily needing to be afraid -- or perhaps she had been so afraid once that nothing frightened her anymore.

It was hard to say what was happening in people's lives without more context, admittedly, but he had to admit, the more she talked, the more something about her voice seemed familiar. It was almost like he had heard it before, or at least her cadence, but she didn't look familiar to him at all.

Strange.

"I do," replied Zebulon, with a snort, setting down his tea and leaning forward a bit. "Been told I don't seem the type, but what can I say. And oh, he'd join me, but on most days he's not exactly in the immediate area anyway." Usually was in his toxicology labs.

Well, except on the days he was scheduled to be on campus for adjunct reasons...

"Maybe, but," he gestured at her outfit, with a warm laugh, "don't usually see people just walking about in studded military coats, hair wraps, tank tops, and stompy boots outside of certain clubs."

Zebulon glanced out the window.

"'specially at this time of year."

"I find things are usually more interesting when you listen to people than make assumptions about them, myself."

She definitely looked like she went to the gym a lot, but she spoke in a way that was interesting to him. Sharp, at least. He also appreciated her confidence. Maybe she was right about strangers just being friends they hadn't met yet, but he would reserve his judgment on the topic for now.

"Chemistry," replied Zebulon, off-handedly, before snorting when she pointed out her hair and why she was wearing it. He supposed that much was fair.

"That," he pointed at her unruly mane, just for a moment, before putting his hand back down, "is why I keep my hair short. Not worth the effort. You do you though."

He was pleased to hear that he at least kind of got her, though he was admittedly curious as to what was driving the kind of. What part of his suggestion was incorrect? Was it the fact that she was going to a club right after this? Was it the location he chose of a club? Was she going to some other location with a similar vibe?

As he looked over her outfit once more, his eyes caught her tattoo.

Hadn't he met someone with a similar tattoo before?

But he worked at a college, half the students had tattoos--

"Wouldn't you like to know," chirped Zebulon, with a devious little smirk, as he sipped at his tea. "You see all types on campus, though. Spend long enough there and you'll make it through every subculture twice."

How long had he been teaching there?

Well, he moved to Destiny City when he was just starting graduate school, stayed at Destiny City University to get his master's and doctorate degrees. Arguably, he had been teaching there for as long as that, considering he got assigned as a graduate assistant and even taught a few of the lower level courses once he got into his doctorate program.

"Uh, two, three years?" Zebulon shrugged. "Was a graduate assistant before then for about five."

Why was she asking? Did she think she knew him? He didn't really think he knew her. Maybe. Her cadence was familiar. The banter was familiar. Something even seemed vaguely familiar about the height, the hair, the tattoo--

Strange.

Instead of giving her the answer she wanted, because Zebulon was nothing if not secretive and nosy, he leaned in a bit when she suddenly explained that the military look wasn't actually a subculture. That came to him as a bit of a surprise, admittedly, especially considering he was from Texas where assuredly military obsession was a subculture in some locales, but he listened eagerly. An organization that spanned the entire city and then some, interesting...

"So some kinda secret society or some s**t?" asked Zebulon, casually, leaning back in his seat a bit. "Y'all trying to be a paramilitary? What're y'all fighting for?"

Something seemed to falter in her expression when he mentioned that he had been a graduate assistant.

Did he know her?

He almost asked, but she made the comment that they were a paramilitary.

Zebulon's curiosity forced him to engage that first.

The idea of two secret societies fighting each other beyond the obvious sight of the populace didn't necessarily surprise him. Honestly, it fit in with the occasional 'gang war' mentions he heard in the news and the numerous people who had died for no explicable reason. Nothing appeared to be wrong with them, they just slipped into a coma and...

And yet, what she said was hard to believe. From what he could tell, it sounded like she was just far too into one of her augmented reality games. Didn't a lot of them have one team pitted against the other for worldwide domination? Or several. She wasn't exactly wearing blue, red, or yellow, though. Just a very ... military looking coat. Nor was she talking about capturing anything.

And there were, unfortunately, worldwide organizations that did have their hands in everything, sometimes beyond notice. It was terrifying how many companies were often owned by one giant company.

Zebulon smirked. "Of course I'm sharp. I'm a professor."

But then he opted to address her actual comments.

"Mm, might've. Is this related to that gang war you sometimes hear on the local news?" He took another sip of his tea. "What makes y'all think y'all are in the right, and not them?"

Zebulon appreciated the gesture of respect, and nodded his head, even as he was listening to her and attempting to figure out what exactly was actually going on here, under the surface.

Bloody and ruthless?

Of all the peoples she could compare their mission to--

Was she part of a paramilitary, then, that regularly destroyed people?

"It's always a matter of perspective. The winners of war always write the history books." Or, alternatively, the dominant peoples of a country opted to whitewash the history, leaving it pristine of any of the evils that had been committed in the first place. It was usually that the two were intertwined, though... "I'm fairly sure the peoples they destroyed wouldn't be in agreement that the Mongols' territory was a place of peace and unity. It was a group of people standing on stolen, bloodied land, claiming it belonged to them."

Hm, he was out of tea.

"No matter the results, which were ultimately impermanent, and though unprecedented, historically brief, genocide is unjustifiable. Loss of experiences, loss of history, loss of language, loss of peoples, loss of diversity, both culturally and genetically. If your intention is the total annihilation an entire separate group, are you really in the right?"

A pause.

"Are they only fighting you because you're trying to destroy them?"

Zebulon set down his empty glass, leaning towards her.

He let what he said sit for a moment, then two, then asked,

"Do I know you from somewhere?"