[center][img]http://fontmeme.com/embed.php?text=Miles%20Catrose&name=Hopeless%20Place.ttf&size=50&style_color=f2f3f4[/img]
[img]http://49.media.tumblr.com/0a3dd2733230cc79be0020394260b500/tumblr_o486cij6YP1ufaqtzo1_540.gif[/img]
[i][u]Location[/u]:[/i] The Early Bean
[i][u]Interacting With[/u]:[/i] Barachiel [sub][@Skelace][/sub] || Talia [sub][@13Nightingale][/sub] || Claire [sub][@shagranoz][/sub] || Loki (mentioned) [sub][@Silent Observer][/sub][/center]
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[color=f2f3f4]“Right, right. Alexander it is, then.”[/color] He bares his teeth in a grin, and sets his coffee down on the table before reaching out to grasp Barachiel’s hand. If the name wasn’t big enough of a hint, the faint, buzzing warmth that thrummed just underneath the surface of the other’s skin only confirmed his suspicions. In all his years on Earth, he hadn’t met many angels. Hell, he could probably count all the encounters he’d had with them on one hand, but Miles could almost feel the white hot grace coursing through Barachiel’s veins, radiating heat. The sensation was foreign, yet at the same time, familiar, though apart from a momentary pause, his smile never falters as he gives the other’s hand two firm shakes, withdrawing his own soon after. [color=f2f3f4]“I’m Miles. Miles Catrose. It’s nice to meet you.”[/color]

Barachiel, he notices, stands nearly a foot taller than him, and he makes it a point to pretend like he doesn’t notice, instead just taking another sip of coffee. This difference in stature, however, was likely the least of his worries. In his rather limited experience, angels were, more often than not, a bunch of self-righteous pricks, obsessed with punishing any supposed [i]‘sinners’[/i], whether it was their business or not. Suffice to say, Miles [i]did not[/i] fancy being on the receiving end of a smiting, and he makes a mental note to stay on Barachiel’s good side for the foreseeable future.

As he opens his mouth to speak, Miles is suddenly cut off by the arrival of a stranger. The woman appeared unfamiliar to him, though he held little doubt that she was no stranger to Edgetoun. From the lilts in her inflection, to the confidence with which she carried herself, Miles finds it easy enough to deduce that they frequented very different places in town. Was she an Other, too? If so, what kind was she? For Miles, all this uncertainty was mounting up to no small amount of unease, and almost subconsciously, he takes a small step back from the newcomer when she draws closer. Thus far, she hadn’t done a thing to set off any alarm bells, but he anticipates this peace and quiet won’t last for long.

Murmuring something conventional in reply, Miles momentarily tears his gaze away from the two, only to see someone else approaching - a mousy looking girl who was, surprisingly, even shorter than he was. But as the saying went: [i]two’s company, and three’s a crowd[/i], though it failed to mention one important possibility. What did you call [i]four[/i] people? Miles thinks they should coin a new term for such a situation, though he’s quickly snapped out of his train of thought by yet another new voice thrown into the mix, barely concealing an ill-tempered scowl. Amongst crowds, the pixie is at home, but The Early Bean is a far cry from the dives he’s used to. Instead of the press of sweaty bodies, everyone moving in unison to the thumping bassline, he suddenly finds himself having to make polite conversation - with three other people, no less.

Why everyone wanted to sit here remained a mystery to him. He doubts the morning rush was bad enough to warrant such unusual behaviour.

[color=f2f3f4]“The snow really is getting to be a problem, isn’t it?”[/color] Miles muses to no one in particular, before fishing his phone from his pocket to check the time. As expected, he was now outrageously late for work, but in this weather, would anyone really trek all the way out into town for a haircut? For a moment, he contemplates calling in sick, though perhaps going to work would be a far better experience than staying here for even a second longer. Not that these people (if they even [i]were[/i] people) weren’t pleasant company, but he was just starting to feel a tad claustrophobic.

[color=f2f3f4]“Ah, would you look at the time.”[/color] Miles picks up the two cappuccinos sitting on the table in one smooth motion, smiling a little sheepishly. [color=f2f3f4]“It was a pleasure meeting all of you, but I [i]really[/i] have to get to work. Can’t keep the boss waiting, eh?”[/color]

Briefly, he glances towards the front door of the coffee-shop, though it’s only a moment before his gaze is once again focused on the three before him, eyes glittering with earnest. [color=f2f3f4]“If you ever need a trim, come by Mrs. Atkinson’s, won’t you? We’d appreciate the business.”[/color]