[b][u][color=a187be]~Itzal Albescu Fuji~[/color][/u][/b]

[i][u]British Themed Cafe[/u][/i]
                                                     

Being a chef, the first thing that Itzal did once he got off the plane was to go try the outstanding assortment of dishes that Paris had to offer in their finest restaurants and cafes. He thought to himself almost wistfully that if there was indeed a heaven for cuisine, Paris... No, France in general was definitely the destination for the food lover to visit. By the time he visited the so called "British Themed" Cafe, it had to have been at least the fifteenth... Or was it perhaps sixteenth cafe that he had visited in Central Paris in the span of a day. He supposed that he just couldn't help himself, he was like a young child in a candy shop and he had never felt so inspired in his element, considering he had at least thirty recipes that he was going to try making himself when he had the time. You could say that he was so entranced by all of this, he didn't even pay attention to those taking a second glance at the young man as he scribbled down names of entrees and deserts in his notebook. Not that he wasn't used to people looking over him oddly, not many people had white hair or ruby colored eyes like himself, it was more than likely that he stuck out like a sore thumb as he giddily asked the chefs about their recipes and styles of cooking in their own language. He was obviously a foreigner, that was for certain and most of the French public was surprised to hear their beloved language escape pass his delicate lips without being butchered in the slightest.

By the time he had reached his destination of the British themed cafe, Itzal was none less the eager to try to find one of the Sous-Chefs or one of the pâtissière as he opened the door slowly to take in the different aromas of baked goods, tea, and coffee that immediately started to flood his nostrils. He tried to hide the smirk that was dancing on his lips as he entered in hopes that he wouldn't be stared or pointed at, but he just couldn't help himself... This was truly exciting for him. His smirk faded slightly when he came to realize that he actually didn't know very much about English cuisine. He flushed slightly as he pulled out his reading glasses and his notebook, he'd definitely have to do some studying while he was in here. He quickly went up to the first counter as he started glancing at the names off the different pastries, writing down notes about each specific pastry, whether it be the type of crust or filling it had or what style the pastry was created in.

While he was scribbling away, he started to listen to a couple of people chatting at a table. From what he could make out, they were speaking English, not that he was fluent in it though, he knew a few passing phrases to break the ice, but that was about it. What managed to catch his attention was the envelopes that they were holding, which he managed to guess that's what they were conversing about. He frowned slightly, touching the pocket of his sweatshirt lightly thinking about the own envelope he had received, after all the reason he even decided to visit Paris was because of this envelope. He adjusted his glasses before he returned to his work, he didn't want to think about the envelope right now, that could come later for when the time arrived. He blinked, that was today wasn't it? He thought as he glanced over at the clock, wondering if he should head to the address that the letter had specified to go to, after all... It would be rude to decline the offer considering that he had gotten the ticket. He nibbled his lip as he pulled the envelope out of his pocket and glanced around nervously, he felt he had put himself into a horrid moral conundrum... All over an envelope from a man that he had never met and knew VERY little about. He started pacing around to get rid of his jitters, [color=a187be]"What do I do... What do I do...?"[/color] He muttered to himself, still clutching onto the envelope with anxious tightness. 

Itzal swallowed heavily as his felt his palms start to sweat and his legs tremble, he almost looked like he might pass out to the wandering bystander, [color=a187be]"Oh my Goodness..."[/color] He whispered, glancing at the clock with an ominous feeling in his chest. [color=a187be]"What to do...?"[/color]

As he was thinking about this a young woman around his age entered the cafe, in quite an odd fashion. Itzal blinked slightly as he backed away from the counter, not that the young woman even noticed him as she dashed over to her comrades, going on and on about something in English that didn't really catch his attention until she uttered the phrase, "The Devil." That caused him to swallow heavily and start to tremble again, it seemed that this woman knew something about the sender of his letter. He nibbled his lip again as he thought about what he should do, approach the oddly cheerful woman or not was the question. He rather not because she seemed to be way out there in terms of being social and he really did not want to draw attention to himself. Especially when he'd probably butcher saying something in English, leading him to decide to just wait and see what may happen as he cursed himself for being a coward.