It couldn't be a tradition if they'd only done it once before, but Isabel supposed it could be the start of one. She hadn't seen Anders, Sam, and damn hard to remember that, since before she'd gotten stuck dreamwalking. Somehow, given the dream of his that she'd wandered through, she had a feeling they had a lot to talk about
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So what better way to start the day then with a pile of syrup on something?
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And raised a curious eyebrow at the amount of syrup on the guy's plate.
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In Howard's defense this is because somebody loosened the top on the syrup pitcher and it dropped off as he was pouring.
He's sitting there with his hands held limply over the table trying not to touch anything to make the mess worse while waiting for the waitress to come back with some wet rags.
He hopes nobody notices him, but of course somebody has and of course it's a beautiful woman.
"Hi." He says non-nonchalantly as if nothing is amiss.
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"Isabel does not have a problem with syrup. Duly noted."
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She reminded the little voice in her head that was pointing out that casual use of her powers was wrong that they weren't in Vegas any longer and that weirdness was acceptable here in town.
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"Oh no thank you, the waitress will by shortly." He said. Without thinking, he ran a syrup covered hand through his hair.
"Well... Actually."
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"Are you a shaman then?"
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"So what are you doing in Milieux?" she asked.
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