The Witch's Brew was located in a small inconspicuous building in an old district of L.A. The doors were made of oak, the windows shrouded with mismatched curtains to keep out the sun. It seemed from the outside to be little too fantastical to be a simple coffeehouse, yet that is what displayed on the wooden swing-sign above the door. 'The Witche's Brew:Coffeehouse for the weary.'An odd sign to match an odder place he supposed, slowly opening the door.

If the outside wasn't strange enough, the inside certainly assured his suspicions. Colors oozed from every corner combined with music that seemed to come from everywhere at once. The people were vibrant in some places, in others rustic but somehow fitting together in some strange way.There was one person in particular that caught his eye, slightly off to the left in front of a prime observatory spot.

She was exotic, almost like a gypsy and an artist pooled their clothes together to make this masterpiece. Everything flowed and moved even though she hadn't. Hdr shape was something that couldn't easily be attained, something that even his client didn't compare to. Her curves were more natural, a part of her rather than something forcibly gained. Her glasses were classic, as much the rest of her was was. A silver pince-nez of exemplary quality. Suddenly he felt like he was staring to hard at her and moved towards the back. As he walked past her he smelled flowers, spices and something more. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. He looked at the oddly normal menu and then at the time. Half past three. Now all he had to do was wait. And maybe glance at the woman a few times in boredom. Maybe.