(Untitled)

[technicallykill]

Sylar - or, more appropriately at this point in time, Gabriel Gray is back to his usual bespectacled self, looking around nervously as he proceeds to walk into the coffee shop. He can't remember bits and pieces of the past week, but what he can remember reeks of Sylar and leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He's not even sure who he's spoken to

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[thehandsomeone]

Not that Dean can eat any of the bacon, Sam.

But the sentiment is damn true all the same, although to be fair, Dean is awake by the time Sam gets back. It just so happens that he's still in bed, propped up on some pillows while he watches cartoons.

At least it's not Magic Fingers.

His gaze moves somewhat off the TV screen and to the door when Sam comes in, but his stomach growls considerably at the smell of food.

"Some of that better be for me, dude," he says then, hiding a grin because of course it is.

[wegotwork]

Doesn't mean Sam can't help himself, of course.

He is grateful that the room (for the most part) is silent of any loud vibrating noises (for the time being).

"Yeah, right," Sam says, but he's hiding a grin as he adjusts the paper bag in his arm and heads on over to sit on the edge of Dean's bed.

[thehandsomeone]

Well, you know, except for the incessant cartoon noises, because sometimes Dean is five.

"Right," Dean snorts, leaning forward to make a grab for the bag. "What'd you bring me, bitch?"

[wegotwork]

"Eggs," Sam says, holding the bag just out of reach as he opens it up to let a little bit of the smell waft out.

"And pancakes. I had them put the maple syrup on the side, though, so they wouldn't be all soggy by the time I brought them back."

[blueshocks]

Elle makes her way into the coffee shop, in the mood for something loaded with sugar. She makes her way to the counter, ordering herself an iced mocha. Once her order is up, she turns around to find a table to sit at.

Blue eyes fix on a figure she hasn't seen since she ran into Sylar at the bookstore. But he doesn't seem to be Sylar today. She makes her way toward Gabriel, sitting down at the table without even asking for. She just slurps on her drink, waiting for him to look up and notice her.

[technicallykill]

Gabriel's fairly engrossed in his paper, so he doesn't even notice he's got a guest at his table. At first. Then he does notice, and jumps a little, bumping his knee into the table as some coffee sloshes out of his cup.

"Elle! Hello," he says, after he's tried to mop up said coffee with some napkins. "I didn't see you there."

[blueshocks]

Elle giggles as he begins mopping up his coffee. He was so...harmless when he was like this. So different from Sylar.

It was much more easy to feel safe around him when he was Gabriel.

"I was wondering just how long it'd take you to notice me," she comments with a grin, taking another sip of her drink.

[technicallykill]

"Were you sitting there long? I'm sorry, I didn't even realize."

He manages to clean up most of the mess and crumples the damp napkins into a ball before adjusting his glasses.

"How are you?"

[smithnjones]

Martha Jones has been spending even more time in the basement of the Conrad Hotel since she met Crane. There's something about him that she doesn't rust, and if something should go wrong, she would like to be here when it happens.

She walks down the hallway, and then notices the woman humming and practically dancing down the hall. Martha is drawn to good moods of that nature, and she is still determined to actually meet everyone that lives down here.

Martha stops in the hallway and smiles at the woman. "What song is that?"

[doneanddoner]

Fred doesn't even realize she's where she is until someone actually starts talking to her. So engrossed in her song and her good mood and thoughts of Mat, she's not exactly paying attention to her current surroundings. But she stops humming the moment Martha speaks up, smiling lopsidedly. There might be a bit of a blush that follows, too.

"Oh," she says, the grin turning sheepish. "It's just a song my momma used to sing to me when I was little - an old Dolly Parton tune."

[smithnjones]

Martha's smile widens at the expression on Fred's face.

"It sounds nice. Happy, anyway, though that may just be the person singing it." She shrugs her shoulders with the smile still on her face. "You don't get that very often down here I'm afraid. Most people are doom and gloom and seriousness. It's good to see."

Martha stretches her hand out toward Fred.

"I'm Martha Jones. It's nice to meet you."

[doneanddoner]

"Maybe," Fred admits, "though I don't imagine I ever saw Dolly without a smile on that face of hers."

She shrugs and then returns the handshake, reaching up with her free one to adjust the glasses on the bridge of her nose.

"Winifred - but people just call me Fred, really. Fred Burkle, then, I suppose."

[sensi_doctor]

JD loves drinking! He hasn't done as much of it since he achieved boyfriend! Yes, it's an achievement. However, he has been craving a good night of going out and drinking since. He's been craving it so much that he arrives at the Luna early.

He sits down in front of the bar.

"So what drink would you recommend to me? I want to be surprised. Y'know try something new and experimental. Be bold and brave... that kind of thing."

Yes, he's so suave, isn't he?

[couldusealaugh]

"New and experimental, huh?" Avery echoes, and a smirk plays over her lips as she writes down the name of a Merlot they're currently running low on down on her list.

"What do you tend to swing towards more? Are you a vodka man? Gin? Whiskey? Or do those fruity drinks with an umbrella on top float your boat?"

[sensi_doctor]

"Yes, that's exactly it. I want to kind of branch out since I have a kind of staple every time I drink," JD explains rambling as he tends to do, especially in front of a beautiful woman that smirks at him. "And I drink a lot so that's saying something."

Vodka? Gin? Whiskey?

His face continues to get more disgusted as she goes on, until she reaches fruity drinks. JD clears his throat. "Oh. I'm totally a manly man in that I-" He frowns. "I... like appletinis. Heavy on the tini. Appletinis are, yeah- my staple drink. So. The fruity kind is the best kind."

[couldusealaugh]

She notes the obvious disgust that makes its way over his features as she names stronger and stronger alcohol - until she gets to the fruit drinks, that is.

"You're a fruit man," she murmurs, chuckling quietly. "Nothing wrong with that. You ever had a Hurricane? I make a mean one of those."

[notabirdfan]

It is probably a form of masochism to enter a coffee shop without money.

Nevertheless, unless this universe's cafes are wildly different from those in his own, they tend to be permissive sorts of places. Jonathan has obtained a glass of water and a chair at an empty table and is watching the people go by.

They are at once familiar and alien: a new species, or perhaps it's simply he who is the alien. The interloper. The unwanted intruder.

Nerves and fear are always of interest to him, however, and Gabriel is observed-- though almost absently. It never does to stare.

[technicallykill]

Gabriel, admittedly, is engrossed in those wanted ads, occasionally lifting his cup of coffee to his lips to take an experimental sip. He prefers it just hot on the border of warm, you see. Any hotter and he's likely to burn himself.

There seems to be a few promising career choices, and those he marks with a small pen, idly clicking the end with his thumb as he continues to read.

[notabirdfan]

Crane cannot exactly see what he's doing, but the patterns of his movement imply a Cosmo quiz or some other task of approximately the same level of deliberation.*

It does not occur to him to approach strangers, especially here where (apparently) any given stranger may be a xenophobic gang member. He had luck running into Claire, and he supposes Babel, but one ought not trust to luck.

Or is it that everybody here is secretly a wanderer, and nobody wants to admit it?

The thought is ridiculous. In the meantime, though his attention is not fixed on Gabriel any longer, his eyes forget to glance away. One can only remember so many social niceties at one time.

*Oh God it's crack o'clock.

[technicallykill]

Gabriel senses the eyes before he sees them. Perhaps a share of it is Sylar, who seems to be tugging at his sleeve like a little kid in a candy store.

Either way, there's a small niggling at the back of his brain that he can't seem to shake, and he looks up just in time to make eye contact with Crane.