Victoria Ravynswind sat in the corner of the coffee bar tapping her black heel clad foot inpatiently as she waited for her laptop to load.


*Damn internet is way too slow*

She looked around the room and studied the others as she sipped her double shot cappucino and waited for the page to load. It was another working lunch, well if you could call this lunch. There were about 300 emails to sort through and an even bigger stack of file folders waiting for her back at the office. The red and white decor was less than subtle. This coffee shop obviously catered to Templar Clientelle.

Hey, honey.. you wanna take the bags and I can order the coffee.. you want the same as usual?

I watch my husband heading with the bags to the table .. the one near the window.. the one with our sofa. I notice that something appears to catch his attention, though with a slight shake of his head - it is if he just had a strand of hair in his eye.

Yeah, sorry.. I'll take two lattes.. oh and are those Caramel Short breads.. yeah, no two would be good. Oh and for him, nah.. just for me. Thanks.. you take these credit cards? Oh with my phone.. great, thanks. Bye.

I walk quickly, but with well practiced grace of carrying hot and too close to the brim coffees, along with my plate of shortbread to the table. Uragon has his notebook open and is looking at a screen that appears to be a complete wall of text. My previous grace turns to slight chaos as coffee sloshes out of my mug and Uragon looks up from his screen wth a smile and as if on autopilot, hands me a napkin.

Reading anything interesting?

Well if you can't stand the sound of my voice then I guess we are through talking! We can talk about this when my flight arrives in Madrid, bye!

As I violently disconnect my cell phone call, I take a deep breath and look around and soak up the sight of the old quarter in London - only to shudder at the draft between the buildings as I pull the overcoat of my suit tighter to me.

Ugh, why London? Was it too much to ask for a place...oh I dunno...warmer?

As I finish my thoughts out loud and opening the door to my destination, I become aware of the other customers in the coffeehouse. I give the slightest nod to the lady sitting in the corner and briskly walk over to the counter to ask for a mug of black with two sugars. As the gentleman making my coffee mentions how it's good it is to see me back in England, I kindly nod and pull out my smartphone to start the tedious process of the decryption of status reports. I start to lament not bringing my laptop with me on the flight but knew it wouldn't be any good overseas... especially since the last electronic adapter incident. So I sigh incoherently, pick up my coffee and sit down, isolating myself from the others currently seated. my phone vibrates as I get a text message with a picture of a girl's face on the screen.

Where did I go wrong?

I whisper under my breath as I stare into the pixelized image, suddenly aware that I thought out loud again. then I notice the red and white decor of the cafe, complete with an incognito Templar cross in the finer details. Staring at one of the crosses, I come to a not-so-startling realization.

Oh yea, thats where.

I take a sip of my coffee, to find it exceeding hot, and go back to the status reports.

She nodded back at the man entering through the door, and watched him surreptitiously as he ordered a coffee. Things must be heating up if he's back in London. She smiled with satisfation at the screen that had finally loaded and just as quickly frowned. Victoria instantly understood why her email account has been so fussy, something had definitely happened, and she had 3 times the number of messages to prove it. She put 2 fingers in her mouth and whistled, causing the waitress to look her way. Victoria held up her cup

Another Angela and keep them coming


The waitress gave her an annoyed look, but she didn't really care. They all had jobs to do and as long as Angela did hers, she'd be nicely compensated

I catch the inquisitive look that my wife is giving me while she expertly sets our drinks down on the table with only slight spillage.

Oh, I'm looking into that information repository we talked about earlier. You know how important it is that we get the structure of that right. Else we'll have to do and redo the same stuff over and over.

I quickly close down the data I was skimming through, pick up my coffee and take a first sip of the still very hot brew. As usual, it contains just slightly too little sugar for my tastes.

So, you mentioned having a small meeting here to casually discuss our plans for the next half year?

Corenna walked into the coffee house with her axe slung across her back. As she stood in the doorway, she looked around, daring anyone to say something. No one did. She stepped up the counter, sighed, and leaned over it unlady-like on her elbows.

Hey honey, I need a white chocolate latte with a shot of Bailey's. Just kidding about the alcohol. Sort of.

After getting her coffee, she glanced around the room to see who looked the most nonthreatening. She wasn't going to mess with Mr. Angrypants, and dealing with two Templar at the same time, via the snuggly married couple, just seemed like a bad idea. She spotted a woman who looked like a sexy librarian, typing furiously at her computer. She figured librarians were always supposed to be helpful, and whatever she was doing couldn't be too important. She walked over and sat down beside her, axe digging uncomfortably into her back.

Hey. What's up?

Conlan stops outside the door of the coffee house taking in one last long drag of his cigar, thumping his finger on it dropping ash on the wet sidewalk. He turns and surveys the street, casually tossing his cigar butt into the cigarette can. He lifts his hands slicking back his curly salt and peppered hair and pulls the door open. He heads straight for the counter ordering his coffee.

Coffee. one cream one suger.

He offer the woman behind the counter a toothy smile putting his coins down on the counter. Cup in hand he heads to a booth near the front doors of the shop. He sets his cup on the table and tosses his pack and long brown coat in the seat next to him. Sitting down, he glances around briefly before producing a silver flask and tipping the liquid into his cup.

Ah bon.

He sloutches back in his booth and sips his coffee with a content smile.

"So that's the place, uh..."
Maxime looks up from a torn piece of napkin on which the address was scribbled. She shoves the address in the deep pocket of her dripping trench coat and pulls the hood back. She quickens her step as she passes the door's treshold, her eyes spotting the counter. She heads that way, her eyes finishing the quick survey of the surroundings, making a sign to Sinclaire on her way to the shop counter.

"A bowl of latte machiato. You pour the milk foam first, right?... Great. Four sugars, three creams. Thank you very much."

After concluding her business, she carefully walks to the booth where Sinclaire was sitting and slowly sets her bowl down, smiling at the absence of spill. She takes off her trench coat and lays it on the bench, outside up, craddles her bowl between her hands, then sips first, speaks next.

"A coffee shop, Mr. Sinclaire?... Too bad you can't sit on the terrasse outside, with that rain. You probably don't wish a very long conversation, unless they let you have cigarettes and whiskey..."
Conlan holds up his flask with a dry grin. Maxime flatly stares at the flask.
"...Nevermind. Good day, Mr. Sinclaire."
"Want some creamer Miss Deveaux?", he says upholding his smile and slighlty shaking the silvery container.
― I... I'll be fine, thank you. Besides... is it whiskey?
― Bourbon.
He shakes his head putting his flask away.
― Why didn't you say so? I'll take some of that Southern Comfort ― if that's what is it...?
Maxime looks fixedly at Sinclaire.
― I'm chilled to the bones. Bloody English weather..., she finishes, muttering.
Surprised, he takes his flask flask out of his pocket again and tips some of the bourbon into her bowl. "Thanks..." She stares at his hands as he pours the golden liquid.
He caps the flask and stores it. "Cheers."
Maxime raises the bowl to her lips, carefully sipping the steaming coffee, some foam sticking to her upper lip. "Mmm... Cheers."
She smiles at last, takes a second sip and sets the bowl down.
"So, are you a regular of this place?"
Conlan smirks. "No smoking, and no right ta sell."
He perks an eyebrow as if what he just said was a sufficient answer.
Maxime just nods and discreetly looks around the shop.

Ravynswind heard the voice say "Hey, what's up?", but she didn't look up from the computer screen.

What do you want?

Perhaps it was a little too sharp, but who was this person interrupting her when she was obviously so busy?


Irritated Victoria raised her head, and was surprised to see a girl sitting across from her. A girl with an axe bigger than she was strapped to her back. Victoria's eyes fluttered ever so slightly in surprise. She noticed the tone muscles of the girl's arms and an edge to the girl's eyes. This girl was formidable in her own right. Victoria had a keen eye for these things. The edginess slipped from her voice replaced by mild curiosity.
She extended her hand to the girl across from her.

Hello, I don't believe we've met. My name is Victoria Ravynswind

(*This is a test to show how this style looks*)

A man in a dark suit, white shirt and red silk tie enters the coffehouse fleeing from the downpour outside. With a quick press of the thumb his Knirps closes and the man rids it with a swift flick of his wrist of the raindrops, resembling a samurai from the movies ridding his sword of the blood of his fallen enemies. While he takes his time doing so he inspects the customers and interior of the coffeehouse, raising his left eyebrow slightly when he spots the axe.

Strolling casually towards the counter he continues his inspection by examining the waitress and the visible part of the staff-only area.

One white chocolate mocha, please, he orders with a smile, only to hear the waitress ask

Whipped cream on top?

Yes, please.


He pays with his credit card and then picks his way around chairs and tables to a place with a clear line of sight to the entrance and the counter by a window. Having reached it, he places his umbrella and the coffe mug on the table, opens his jacket and drops into the comfy chair.

After having stirred his coffe for a while he reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket for his smartphone and starts browsing the international news.