☕️— Darven

Darven had only been in that state for a few days and had already decided he didn't like it. It wasn't a particularly fair conclusion, but he wasn't interested in changing it either. The streets were too noisy, people walked aimlessly, and he still didn't know enough routes to move around without stopping to think. He'd spent a good part of the morning wandering without a specific destination when the smell of coffee finally pulled him from his wanderings. He stopped in front of the shop, peered inside through the glass, and went in. Coffee. At least that was hard to ruin. He'd been drinking it for years, though always with enough milk or sugar to mask the bitterness; black coffee left an unpleasantly familiar taste in his mouth, similar to Erwin's breath when he leaned too close to correct him. Darven pushed the memory away before it had a chance to fully form and looked for a table from which he could see the entrance. He found it. Of course he found it. He'd barely taken a couple of steps when a loud voice cut through the murmur of the place.

Then another. His green eyes flicked toward the source of the noise and he found several customers venting their anger at the server. He didn't intervene. He stood still for a moment longer than was socially appropriate, analyzing. Number of people. Distance to the door. Hand positions. Voice volume. None of them seemed to pose an immediate threat. They were just noisy. Annoying. The kind of people who mistook being heard for being right. Darven continued to his table and sat down, keeping the scene within his field of vision. One of the customers shouted again. Darven narrowed his visible eye slightly.

She repeats the same words. She doesn't want a solution. She wants a reaction. Her fingers absentmindedly reached for one of the bandages around her neck and pressed the edge against her skin. Waiting without intervening.