Finally, that blessed day every working stiff yearned for had arrived. It wasn't that Scirey detested her job. She didn't actually even hate it. It was just sometimes she was fed up with the barked commands; the petulant, fragile egos of writers; the lack of recognition; the heap of tedious mundane tasks; The simple inability of letting her creative spark flare; the frustration of always drawing on command. It was the last bit that really got to her sometimes.

Usually she was very good at her job. Patient and detailed. She could handle the most frazzled of writers, allowing them to rant and rave about how everything had to be just so. That they absolutely must have this  one cover (even if it is hideous) and then slowly, very gently help them to something that capture their original idea and yet actually was aesthetically pleasing. Of course it would be entirely the writers idea of course.

In a rare act of self-indulgence, Scirey had left her shared London flat earlier than normal. She had a feeling that it would be a lovely day. A little blue bird had been singing on her window ledge. A jaunty little tune that spoke of sunshine. A good omen. It would be a lovely friday. So she had dressed in her favorite oversize sweater of moss green. The rather worn thing came to just below her thin hips. It had been patched a few times, but it was so soft from age and paint speckled but Scirey couldn't find it in her to replace it. There was nothing quite like it. The bottom of the sweater was ribbed and hugged her nearly nonexistent hips, adding a hint of curve. It's sleeves were easily rolled up past the elbow, and typically stayed put, often displaying her willowy arms.  At the moment, they were down to her wrists, covering up the faint scars that marred the milky white skin.  Carelessly, Scirey had gathered her tangled mass of umber curls into a bun at the nape of her neck. A knit cap hid most of the mess, but a few wispy curls escaped around her face.

Book bag filled with art supplies banging against her knees,  Scirey slipped into Alohomocha. She had always meant to come in. Over the years she had walked past it, watching as the building changed. She  worked at Obucrous just down the alley but Scirey wasn't really one for eating out. Too many things could go awry.  For a while it had taken all of her strength to walk alone down the alley. Now though she could stroll down the alley and enjoy it. She still felt a bit of fear, but it wasn't debilitating. She had control.

So here she was, finally in a place she had admired. It was the charming windows that had captured her attention. The lacy, delicate iron work. Whoever had designed the upgrades had down a wonderful job. at her side, Scirey's right hand began to twitch as she paused, taking in the atmosphere. She wanted to capture the spirit of the place on parchment. It had character. A jaunty little place.

Her eyes lit upon the menu and one eyebrow raised up. What in merlin's gray beard was all of that nonsense? Scirey had never really gone to such a coffee place before. It hadn't interested when she'd been a schoolgirl and when she'd graduated she'd hadn't the nerve to come to the alley.

It had been a rather lazy day altogether for one Sander Blackwell. But Fridays usually meant this was merely the calm before the storm, come afternoon the place would be packed. It was precisely for this reason that he'd come in a lot earlier than usual, make sure the patisserie line was well stocked so he wouldn't find himself swamped later in the day. He'd been in decidely better spirits as of late, and although he'd never admit it outright, he knew who exactly was the cause of that. He wondered what she was doing right now...

Sander had been enjoying a cigarette out front when he re-entered Alohomocha. In passing he noticed a young woman that had not yet been served and upon turning around to look for his co-workers he found none on the floor. With a huff and a mutter he stalked menacingly towards her table stopping to hover over her. "Someone will be with you soon for your coffee" he said, almost muttering, glaring at her as if she had personally offended him for simply existing. Where the hell was Leon? Or CeeCee? Or anyone for that matter...

"Can I interest you in some dessert meanwhile?" he asked, shoving both hand into the front pocket of his apron. "The Battenberg cake is today's special" he said still displeased to have been forced to interact with customers.

The place was rather empty. But not lonely, despite the lack of employees. Some places contained a lonely atmosphere even when people were around. Not this place. there was something about it that Scirey naturally liked. She settled down at a small table, her bag perched on the second chair. She didn't mind waiting, it gave her a chance to study the menu.

Scirey had been gazing at the art work on the wall across from her when the door opened. Curious, Scirey glanced  sideways. A man stood there surveying the room as if it were his kingdom. A frown deepened on his face when he looked at her. When he stalked towards her, a little bit of fear enveloped Scirey. She could feel her heart speed up and her throat tighten just a little bit. For a second she feared that she had made a mistake in coming in here.

Maybe they were not open yet? Perhaps she'd some how broke an unspoken rule. Maybe this was his table, or maybe this man was the person she feared most in disguise. She just didn't know, but she couldn't do anything either. Scirey just sat there as this angry man approached her. She was startled a bit when he muttered at her that someone would be over to help her with her coffee.

Help her. With Coffee. Merlin, he worked there. Probably was the owner or something. Upset because no one had helped her yet.

"Oh, thank you," She murmured in her soft tones as she tried to force herself to smile. He was not going to hurt her.

"Can I interest you in some dessert meanwhile?" he asked, shoving both hand into the front pocket of his apron. "The Battenberg cake is today's special"

His continued look of displeasure and closed of body language actually relaxed Scirey a bit. This man wasn't upset at her. He was just a naturally woebegone person with a grumpy exterior.

"That would be lovely, I have a fondness for sweets," She said wistfully. It had been a while since she had a sweet made by a professional. "If it isn't any trouble. You have a lovely place here and there must be so much to do..." She said with a slight flush.

He simply nodded once, rather violently, at her acknowledgement of the coffee order, brows still drawn in irritation. He'd have gone off on the incompetency of their staff—and just why the bloody hell was no one around? But that would require further interaction, and this was already a pain for Sander. He wasn't even supposed to be on the floor, he should've just had that cigarette on the window of the kitchen. Why did he go outside? Always the wrong damn decision.

His face remained impassive as the woman admitted to her sweet-tooth. Along the years he hadn't actually met anyone as repulsed by anything sweet as he was. And he was usually the one baking them. He still cringed whenever he remembered the times when he was less experienced and still had to taste everything he'd make. Too much time spent hugging the toilet...

"If it isn't any trouble. You have a lovely place here and there must be so much to do..."

Sander's eyebrows did a thing, going from confused to menacing only to settle on highly unimpressed. "It's what I do" he finally dead-panned, not exactly sure how to respond to that. "I'm the... pastry chef" he almost barked through clenched teeth, because most nobody understood what the hell a patissier was, and pastry chef just sounded stupid. Sander had irrational dislikes... He decided to ignore her comment on how lovely Alohomcha was, because Sander Blackwell did not agree with that statement. Especially right at that moment, because—why the hell was he serving customers again?

But at her next statement he merely stood there watching her in complete silence, eyes obviously judging, as he turned around for a moment, arms half-raised from his body, showing that the café was nearly deserted and just how exactly could he have much to do at the moment? He shook his head disapprovingly, and stuck his hands back in the apron. "Seeing as I'm the only one actually working at this work place" he gritted, glaring at the bar. "I'll have your cake back in a moment." And with that he stalked towards the back muttering to himself.