"Hm." Dean Finnigan observed, his interest piqued. "Scorn."

The boy had heard of her before, among some questionable conduits. A finicky, distasteful conduit, with an odd, sexual interest in shoving rail spikes up others asses. The other one was anonymous, unfortunately. She appeared to be named.. Order? Scorn and Order. It was a shame that parents nowadays refrained from naming their children normally. They were having some long, philosophical conversation on chaos and insanity. He sighed, chewing on cold eggs. It was a shame that such great powers were wasted on conduits with such an inane disinterest in fighting. A fight between shadow and light could've been so entertaining and fun. He could imagine it now; good v. evil, shadow v. light. It would be like something just out of television. He-

His train of thought was rudely interrupted by a raucous cough. He turned his heard glancing behind him. A man stood, in a flowing jacket, cascading over his shoulders. He recognized the garb. It was It bore heavy similarities to Scorn's own jacket, except less scandalous and showy. The fellow stared at him, his eyes dark, before demanding why he was eavesdropping. The man, also, apparently knew he was a conduit. That was a shame. He'd been working hard on keeping that a secret. In New York, business owners seem to tend to be somewhat reluctant to hire conduits, unfortunately. It was something about property damage, he supposed. All of that work erased by some smuck with the ability to detect conduits. He didn't bother to stand up, let alone put aside his breakfast.

"I'd appreciate it if you'd leave me [b][i]alone.[/i][/b]" The final word echoed, dripping with venom. It seemed almost unnaturally loud, and slightly deeper and bolder. Dean wasn't quite in the mood. "I'm trying to enjoy some breakfast here, reaper."