As James got to Coffee Central, he was greeted by the wonderful scent of the elixir of the gods. Not the actual gods, but this wondrous liquid was what powered mundanes and even him on rough days. He managed to abstain from the addictive beverage while on vacation, but now that he was home… well the craving seemed to be back. Fortunately the line was short and he didn’t have to wait long to place his order. 

[color=5EE696] “One Coffee, splash of cream, no sugar please.” [/color] He asked, setting a ten on the counter. [color=5EE696] “Sorry smallest bill I have.”[/color] 

“That’s no problem. That’ll be right out. Here’s your change. Can I get a name?” The cashier asked. 

[color=5EE696] “James. Thank you,” [/color] he replies. He stepped away from the counter and walked over towards the side and noticed the newspaper Bartholomew had. Then he overheard someone asking if Tholo was a mechanic. James smirked knowing that Tholo was a great mechanic, having fixed his truck more than a few times. James knew he didn’t need to interfere, nor did he feel particularly inclined to, but he still moved closer as he noticed a particular headline. There was another murder while he was away. 

[color=5EE696] “Another one?” [/color] He scowled, backing away. This was bad. If hunters weren’t already looking into the situation in the area, they probably would be soon. He would definitely want to be prepared. Things were dangerous and if the murders weren’t solved soon, it was only going to get worse. Much worse. Memories from his first cycle flashes before his eyes, memories of war. He was only pulled out of it when he heard his name being called prompting him to step up to get his coffee. He sat down at a table near Bartholomew and began sipping at his coffee and taking deep breaths to try to slow his heart rate. [color=5EE696] ‘It won’t come to war, it won’t come to war’ [/color] He thought to himself, trying to calm down. He didn’t want to see another war first hand, having lost too many friends in World War Two. Granted most of those who died were lost either in Normandy when they stormed the beaches or after he was injured and sent home.

He sipped his coffee again and leaned back. He needed to think and he needed to prepare to make the offering… [color=5EE696] ‘The offering!’ [/color] He remembered, somewhat startling himself awake. He needed meats and fruits as well as a certain incense the name of which he was blanking on, but he would recognise the scent. He also wanted mead, but the only place to get good mead was nearly an hour away, and not open yet. He would have to go shopping, but it would have to wait until he dropped his stuff off at his house. He stood and walked toward the door, pausing for a second near Tholo to give a quick hello. He would make his way to his truck soon but he crisp fresh air was nice and he didn’t want to head home just yet, especially with the coffee working it’s way into his blood. He would just keep walking, maybe go to the park nearby for a bit and think.

[@Argetlam350]