[color=f7941d][h2]Douglas Song[/h2][/color][color=f7941d][h3]Hallow Grounds Coffee[/h3][/color]
There was little Song had to truly say, but one thing he noted was the channel on the television, especially as the man at the counter stared off into it at a loss. There was no coincidence in these things, that much the outsider knew to be truth, but he was not content to confirm this alone and gave a soft nod to the man. "Orren" was his name, if his work dress was anything to be believed, but Song played ignorant of this as well when he heard the man speak up - freed of his trance by a slight start and jump from surprise.

[i]"Oh. Uh, sorry. Can I help you?"[/i] He was asked, to which he nodded again, remaining reserved and humble though hosting legitimate concern, albeit more played out and exaggerated over his otherwise persistent tranquility.

"Yes, what happened?" Song inquired, lifting a hand enough to point to the television, "Why is everyone so on edge? Bad news?"

From there he set a small wooden box atop the counter, one of still somewhat raw finish and containing, like a chest, the boxes of tea he intended to purchase. It would serve as his tea chest as well, no matter how crude the unsanded wood was. No bigger than a shoe box, Song kept his other hand upon it while he looked from the television to Orren, then back again. The reflection of the screen, just as it had before, revealed the young woman behind him, the one that entered not long after. She too had been confused as he was, meaning she hadn't an idea either of what took place.

Song did, quite well at that, beginning to piece the details together more and hoping the sleepless man he conversed with would provide ever more on it.

[@Little Italy][@Metronome]