Adia smiles softly to herself at the way Thor speaks to Zelus. "I hope you get to see Steve before you leave," she remarks. Then he'd get to meet Sarah and Ethel. She has a feeling that he'd enjoy rough housing with them, Sarah especially.
The scenery, as they walk through the Shopping District, is a mix of seemingly random architecture. Everything from old stone and iron work to sleek glass storefronts dressed up in neon lights. The people are as varied -- mostly human, but some obvious non-humans as well, including the more "traditional" looking aliens. Adia keeps an eye on her surroundings as well, but mostly to take the proper steps to the coffee shop. "Something you should know about this place," she says while they walk, "Is that sometimes the geography changes. Buildings will change location, or streets will shift direction. But if a place is visited often enough, it usually stays put. Ah, here we are."
She stops in front of a rather nondescript brick building. Only the little brass sign overhead emblazoned with a coffee cup indicates the business within. She holds the door open for him -- inside is a rather austere shop with high-vaulted ceilings, the standing stables and low bench along the back wall made of dark wood and accented with polished copper.
Behind the counter is a monstrosity of an espresso machine, also copper, and a smaller drip machine in a similar style. The barista, a very thin, very tall blue-haired man with elven features and an expression that suggests he is not in the mood for small talk, is currently wiping both machines clean with a rag, preparing them for their next order.
no subject
The scenery, as they walk through the Shopping District, is a mix of seemingly random architecture. Everything from old stone and iron work to sleek glass storefronts dressed up in neon lights. The people are as varied -- mostly human, but some obvious non-humans as well, including the more "traditional" looking aliens. Adia keeps an eye on her surroundings as well, but mostly to take the proper steps to the coffee shop. "Something you should know about this place," she says while they walk, "Is that sometimes the geography changes. Buildings will change location, or streets will shift direction. But if a place is visited often enough, it usually stays put. Ah, here we are."
She stops in front of a rather nondescript brick building. Only the little brass sign overhead emblazoned with a coffee cup indicates the business within. She holds the door open for him -- inside is a rather austere shop with high-vaulted ceilings, the standing stables and low bench along the back wall made of dark wood and accented with polished copper.
Behind the counter is a monstrosity of an espresso machine, also copper, and a smaller drip machine in a similar style. The barista, a very thin, very tall blue-haired man with elven features and an expression that suggests he is not in the mood for small talk, is currently wiping both machines clean with a rag, preparing them for their next order.