Morning's off to a great start!

[Thomas Jenkins]

Dr. Sean Neville

There were things he needed to do today, but none of them were especially pressing. A leisurely visit to the coffee shop felt like a nice start to his day. Being that it was cold, he rolled up in the American Death Machine - a light blue Chevy Caprice station wagon from the 80s - rather than by cycle or on foot. He was wearing a good few layers, topped off by an orange beanie, puffy blue vest and green hoodie that looked a little out of place on a man his age. He removed the beanie upon entry and stuffed it into the hoodie's pocket as he approached the counter.

When he reached the counter, it was with one hand ruffling his gray hair into something more presentable, a wince on his face as though rubbing his scalp was painful. The pain, in fact, was what he was going to ask to be put in his coffee. He couldn't remember what they had and would hate to ask for something they didn't bother keeping around. It sounded pretentious! He tipped his face up to consider the menu, but it wasn't very illuminating.

When he finally addressed the barista, it was by focusing on the young fellow's shoulder and speaking as though each word were being painfully excised from his throat. "Hey, um, I want a large coffee, and, uh, can you put a little milk in there? Not uh, skim milk, but like - 2%? Maybe?" His wince got a little more intense. Was he too good for skim or something? Fuck. "And, uh, maybe three teaspoons of sugar. I'll be drinking it here." He dug his wallet out of his back pocket to pay, dropping two shiny quarters into the tip jar since the barista had to tolerate his terribly inconvenient order. 

Soon, he had the large mug in one hand and the unwanted, yet freely offered, pastry which came with in the other. He sat himself down at one of the open tables near the front, giving the coffee some time to cool as he considered the small eclair. He wasn't a big sweets guy, but it was probably good, right? He shoved the whole thing in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Due to a strategically placed staff meeting that had (somehow) ended early, Sean had a longer break period than he otherwise took – all the more noteworthy since, some days, he barely had time for lunch at his desk. But he had cleared his schedule for the meeting, which left him with enough time to go off and get something to eat.

Truthfully, the psychiatrist needed a break from Hammel. With the Valentine’s Day dance on the horizon, he spent longer hours at the school once classes ended, so he could work with the Student Activities Council to get the dance in order. They had supplies, they had the volunteer roster, and they had clearly-posted dance rules. Three more days.

Three more days, and then the telepath would have a four-day weekend. Sean wouldn’t have taken Tuesday off but for the insistence from his partner, but Josh wanted them to have the additional day, and the telepath had the time saved up.

Three more days.

At least, for now, he didn’t have to focus on his sessions and his paperwork. Instead, he took a spin in his sedan downtown for fresh coffee that didn’t come from the faculty lounge. The Velvet-Tone Coffeehouse remained a favorite location, both for their strong, fresh coffee and their heavenly baked goods.



Apparently, more people than Sean had the same idea, because, by the time he arrived at the coffeehouse, it was overrun with patrons. Tables were filling up. The telepath cast around as he stood in line, looking for somewhere he could sit, but free tables had become a hot commodity.

Ah well, he would deal with it when he had coffee, since he had no intention of returning to Hammel until after he’d enjoyed his break.

Once at the front of the line, he offered a large coffee with cream and sugar and a banana nut muffin. However, as he was about to play, he saw a tray of cinnamon buns fresh from the oven. “I’ll take one of those too,” he told the cashier with a smile.

Finally, he had his second breakfast ready, and, after paying, he cast around again. Spying a table with only one other occupant, he approached and placed his hand on the back of an empty chair, although he didn’t sit down. “Is this seat taken?”

[Thomas Jenkins]

He'd known this place was popular in the morning, but watching it fill up around him was surreal. If he'd come just a few minutes later, he'd have been one of the unfortunate souls milling about and trying to find a place to sit. A part of him wanted to simply get up and leave, figuring that others had important work ahead of them and he was just here because sitting home, alone, drinking coffee, just hadn't been an appealing prospect. He wasn't even talking to anyone presently and, like people twenty years his junior, had taken out his cell phone to consider his various social media feeds.

One of those kids might have been irritated to see a guy's hand in their peripheral vision. Thomas, on the other hand, looked like he'd been caught doing something indecent. With a sheepish smile and a glance upward, he disabled the phone's display and placed it face down on the table for good measure. Favoring his phone over a living, breathing person in his presence was just rude.

"No, it's not! It's weird how this place just filled up around me. I guess I got in at just the right time. My coffee's not even cold yet," he explained, picking up his mug and tipping it indicatively before taking a sip.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

During typical social interaction, Sean agreed that favoring an electric device over a person sitting with you or across from you was incredibly rude. However, the telepath considered this happenstance, rather than typical social interaction; after all, the other man hadn’t expected to have to share a table with another patron, with a stranger. Moreover, the younger man was doing him a favor by allowing him to sit there rather than sending him off to find another seat at someone else’s table. And, since Sean wasn’t his partner, he didn’t have the same extraverted expectation of engaging conversation with someone he just met.

Instead, he offered the other man a grateful smile, before he pulled back the chair and slid into the seat. He took particular care with his too-long legs, not wanting to press up against the other man’s or to invade his space. The only person with whom he took less care with was Josh, and that was because his partner didn’t mind the intrusion or the physical contact, at home or in public.

“This place is always popular during the rush crowds,” Sean replied, before picking up his own coffee. He spoke from experience; sharing a table wasn’t unexpected during his past trips to this café. “But they had fresh cinnamon rolls, and that’s all I care about.”

That and his coffee, and getting a few minutes away from Hammel during his break.

[Thomas Jenkins]

Being as he was a pretty lanky fellow, Thomas realized he needed to do some adjustment of his own to make sure they weren't bumping knees. It was something he often endured in pubic, but just one more thing that made him more uncomfortable than was strictly reasonable. He just hoped that this guy didn't take his small shuffling around the circular table as an effort to get away from him, like they were in grade school or something. Those legs only did him any damn good when he wanted to save some girl's day at the grocery store by snatching the last box of cereal off the top shelf for her. Made him feel like a giant. Otherwise? It was just awkward.

It was something solved casually, at least, his shifting lucky enough to draw no particular attention itself via excessive scraping or squeaking. "Oh, yeah, sure! I've been here before. Usually I'm where you are, except I probably would've just walked out after I got my coffee," Thomas admitted with a nervous snicker, remembering to reach over and pull his phone closer to him. He'd hate to forget it, after all. "Not a cinnamon bun guy, though. I. . .think I might have seen you here before, actually," he considered slowly, squinting at Sean as though it might confirm something. "I know I haven't met you, though. I'm Thomas Jenkins," he offered, sticking out his hand. His fingers wiggled a little, either nervous or eager - truthfully, he just wanted to make sure he was the first guy to grab the other's hand. Having control in something had to be good for the ego even if it was totally inconsequential, right?

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Fortunately, Sean was an exceptionally easygoing fellow, and, as a result, he was difficult to offend. His typically mild-mannered nature had been amplified by his powers, such that he had the uncanny ability to determine people’s intentions. As a result, he always gave others the benefit of the doubt, unless he detected outright malice, or the other person in question had a history of malicious behavior.

He never made that assumption with strangers.

Instead, he shifted his legs, and did his best to keep them out of the other man’s way, while he shifted around as well. But it proved successful, since neither man found himself awkwardly pressed up against the other. While the telepath didn’t mind playing footsie, he only wanted to do so with his partner.

Now settled, he could turn his attention towards his food and his new companion, and he offered a smile in response to his admission. “You’re not alone in that; half of everyone leaves instead.” He couldn’t blame them. Sean was an introvert himself, even if he wasn’t shy or particularly socially-averse. But he had known his fair share of shy or more severely introverted people in his lifetime, and he didn’t judge them for wanting to avoid conversation or sharing space with strangers.

Fortunately, his introversion didn’t manifest that way. It made life in a small town far more pleasant.

He set down his coffee and took the proffered hand for a firm handshake, although not so firm as to be a power play. He didn’t believe in that. “I’m Sean Neville,” he replied. “It’s nice to meet you.”

And he meant that.

“How long have you been in town?”

The fact that they hadn’t met wasn’t so unusual as to be noteworthy, but Sean knew more townspeople than he didn’t, the result of having lived here for twenty-five years.