[i]If there was one thing that made Gybol's Cafe stand out, it was the lack of consistent, pleasant use of color. Tables had different designs over them that made little sense, the walls had pictures sent in that over all just do not match. It's a very chaotic sort of cafe, unique in the fact that color isn't the same where ever you look. Gybol seems to pride himself on that and in his strangeness. Whether or not it was from him wanting to be creative, or artistic, he never says. Nina was...well, she was Nina. He appreciated her work, he tipped her well too when days like this came up. He knew that she didn't quite like the job but he preferred things his way. It was safer for the both of them after all

As the day began to wrap up, he would take a moment to step out back and find a passerby who looked like they needed a hand. He'd hire them to wash dishes for him, a small job for a small amount of pay, but something that he could talk to them during if they wanted. It was his daily ritual in a way. Sure he didn't want attention, but this was his one break from his day-to-day isolation. His kitchen would be as confusing as his actual cafe, but for an entirely different reason. While sure every spice and seasoning is labeled, so is every object in the kitchen. Plates, spatulas, it didn't matter. Each labeled by what color they are. Gybol had a second mutation along with his color-changing skin. Colors were never consistent to him. Infact on Nina's first few days of work, he had her tell him the color of everything in his cafe so he could label it all.

His thought process was disrupted with a small frown on his face at the mention of a "freak". He straightens up from his oven cleaning to look at the man and gives a bit of a surprised look. He'll wait for the man to speak up, giving him all the time he needs to think things through. [/i]