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Post by Noa Meir on Nov 3, 2010 21:05:54 GMT -4
If someone had told Noa five years ago that one day she would be sitting in an American coffee shop researching demons under the employ of Yahweh, she would probably have shot him. It wouldn't have fit within her normal pattern of behavior, therefor it wouldn't have been logical. Of how simple life had been. Normal logic had said goodbye three years ago, and the ex-assassin was still trying to get used to supernatural logic. It was confusing, inconsistent, and sucky; but it was also frighteningly real.
Noa took a long drink from her mug before returning her attention to the the books on the table. A journal and the latest volume of research, neither in English to limit the chances of someone reading over her shoulder. No one needed to know that the Israeli was looking for demons. The last thing she needed was police attention, God knew she didn't want to give her old employers any reason to be suspicious of her.
Right now there was no hunt, so Noa was driving towards the nearest city while doing some general research. Her knowledge of the supernatural was not through enough. This failing was unacceptable, ignorance was a good way to get oneself killed.
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Post by Belial on Nov 11, 2010 11:39:28 GMT -4
Coffee.
If there was one thing the crown prince of hell loved besides lustful sex, it was coffee. Whether it was an old habit of his vessel or something he had become addicted to he wasn't sure. To tell the truth he didn't really give a damn. Plus, there was always someone decent looking at a coffee shop.
"Good morning Maggie," he said with a smile to the girl behind the counter. Turning to face him, her face lit up with a smile.
"Why if it isn't Mr. Prince," she replied ,walking over to the glass case of pastries and baked goods. "What can I get you today? Are we feeling daring?"
"Oh no," he said, shaking his head slightly with a smile. "Not today. I'll take my regular. The Maggie Special," he replied with a wink. "It's the best in the house and you know me. I only settle for the best."
A true grin broke out across her face as she told him a quick okay and set about preparing his order.
Oh human women. They were so easy.
While she busied herself with his order, Belial leaned back against the counter, observing today's crowd. Marty, an interesting old man with an amusing past and another regular was sitting at his normal table. He gave him a small nod before continuing his survey.
His eyes lingered on a woman sitting alone with a few books and a mug of coffee. She looked Israeli. He hadn't played with one of them in a while. He'd gotten bored with the war last time he was there.
The longer his eyes looked at her the more interesting she seemed to become. There was something...off about her. He frowned as she watched her pore over her book. Come to think of it there was a faint something around her. It wasn't demon...or angel. She wasn't marked or claimed in any way. What in the name of Hell was it? There was something familiar about the feeling he was getting off her.
Hearing someone clear their voice he turned around and sent Maggie a heart-melting smile. "Thank you Maggie," he said, taking the cup from her hand, making sure to touch hers in the process. "You're an angel of the bakery and coffee persuasion."
A small black mark bloomed on her wrist where he'd brushed her before fading. "You know you should open your own shop one day. People would flock to it."
Oh they would. Once she made a deal with him. She'd be quitting this small time chain any day now. And when she did he'd be waiting for her. Normally he didn't put too much time into his contracts. But this way he got great coffee and a fun tumble and deal.
Tossing a twenty on the counter he gave her a wink before picking up his plate and moving across the room. Now that he'd planted a figurative seed in her mind it was time to deal with the other thing in the room.
Walking over he stopped behind the chair across from her. "Do you mind if I join you?" he asked, not giving her room to refuse before sitting down.
Setting his cup on the table he slid the slice of cheesecake before himself. Turtle cheesecake. He would definitely blame it as a vessel craving. But he did love it. Cutting off a small piece with the side of his fork he slipped it into his mouth with a smile.
"Perfect as always. You should try the cheesecake."
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Post by Noa Meir on Nov 12, 2010 19:00:47 GMT -4
If there was one thing being in the Mossad had taught Noa, it was how to spot a predator. The man who had just entered to coffee shop was most certainly a predator. He might have seemed congenial enough to the regulars and the staff, nut there was a subtle air around him that claimed dominance and ownership. There was something else about him as well, something unearthly that she would not have noticed when she had been an assassin.
The napkin dispenser on the table had a very reflexive surface which Noa had positioned in such a way as to be able to see behind her. It was a handy trick that allowed her to keep her eyes on the man even when he wasn't within her field of vision. Apparently she'd caught his attention as surely as he'd caught hers because after the man was done smooth talking the waitress and another customer, he invited himself to sit at her table.
"Take a seat," Noa said, the strength of her accent mostly covering her sarcasm. To be so close to this man was uncomfortable, it was much better to see his type through a scope. Years of training kept her expression neutral, it was never wise to show fear. As a precaution, the Israeli shut both of the books on the table.
"No thank you, much too sweet."
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