[crow]

It was as if they were all still watching him, hounding him for some failure that he had to own to, and hadn't. The shop had perhaps been his attempt at running away from that, whatever else he had told himself. He struggled to find the words. "It... I should have found them. There were so many of us, I should have found someone..." His voice shook, he realized with a start. He was letting his emotions get out of hand. He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself. He very nearly succeeded. There was a long gap between these words and the next, but still Qual said nothing, only watching him.

"I remember how it felt to have others of my kind around me. It was too long ago to say, but I recall it. You said you knew your boy from the hints in his face--- now I feel something familiar to my people, but I can't say what." His hands itched for something to do. Alain's eyes darted back to the shelf with the cups, and his polishing cloth left unfolded at the counter. He moved to pick it up, folding it neatly and setting it down again.

[crow]

He wanted desperately to polish something, but he was even more agitated than he had been, and the logical voice in his mind informed him in no uncertain terms that he would most likely break whatever it was instead. If he had been no good for the cups before, he was a threat to them now. Absent-mindedly he picked the cloth up again and had wrung it into a knot before he caught himself. He smoothed it out on the counter again as best he could, but the creases remained, and seemed to reproach him with his own unhappiness.

When he turned to read Qual's reaction at last, the demon was not smiling. He had a sober expression on his features, which was, if anything, worse. Was it pity? No, that wasn't quite right. What was the word for this? He was... oh, by the old gods, Qual was being considerate. No, that was awful. He didn't need the consideration of a sadly obsessed man. "Don't get the wrong idea," he began, but it was no use. He could see in those silver eyes, just how far he had fallen.

[crow]

It made Alain's skin crawl, to be looked at like that, as if somehow Qual understood how Alain felt in any tiny capacity when he knew for certain that that could not be possible. They were not of one kind. As studied as Alain was in the ways of others, he could still only guess at feelings and intents and motivations. It was all clinical knowledge, as a doctor knows the diagram of organs, and might find them and their anomalies on a patient; but the doctor did not intimately feel their malfunctions, the precise quality of the pain that plagued the people he helped. Alain did not claim to know his cases' minds either. He suddenly felt very trapped in his own space, a sensation that further alienated him from every reality he had known.

Qual said, "You could look. It wouldn't hurt. It might... keep you busy, until you can come up with something better to do about it." His voice was disgustingly kind. Alain wanted to laugh again, but this time he quelled the sensation, and it felt alarmingly like nausea going down.

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"What, and I'm supposed to take advice from you? I know full well how you've fared these past few years. I've no wish to sink to such depths." He was being outright cruel now, but Qual did not so much as flinch at his words.

Instead, he said, "If you need help-"

"I don't. And the last person I would ask is you," Alain said sharply.

Qual nodded. "Very well. But I know, at least, that it is not pleasant to be alone, so I will have a coffee, please. You should know my order by now."

Alain hoped that Qual knew that he was not being helpful, that he was being infuriating instead. If Alain was to suffer the indignities of restlessness and something that approached anxiety, he would have liked to do it alone, no matter what the demon's thoughts on the matter. That was why his cafe was out here in the middle of nowhere, where nobody so meddlesome had any business in finding it, and certainly no business in sitting down and judging Alain in any shape or form and then ordering a drink. Yes, his initial assessment had been correct; they were definitely not friends. They were right on their way to becoming mortal enemies.

[crow]

An order was an order though, and Alain was first and foremost the proprietor of a cafe. It was just that most of the time, this was something that worked for him, rather than against him. He thought with seriousness of adding a 'closed' sign to the window, and tried to imagine how much it would ruin the aesthetic of the shop. He had never needed one before, but he might now.

And Blake was going to be ever-so-dead when he returned from haring off after whatever ghost had gotten ahold of him this time. Being gone this long was inexcusable, and left Alain at the mercy of demons. Idiotic ones who liked their coffee strong, no cream, no sugar, and as black as the void of existential angst that probably plagued the teenage half-breed's soul. He poured it thick as sludge from the bottom of the pot. The coffee had sat and soaked up the bitterness of Alain's mood, and he hoped it would choke Qual a little on the way down. It was the least that could be done for Alain, after all the indignities of the morning.

[crow]

Any suffering Alain could inflict on Qual, however, would have to be forestalled. At that moment, someone else wandered through the door. One visitor, and a persistently pesky regular at that, was not much of a surprise. Two, in such a remote place, was harder to believe. It was especially egregious in that Alain couldn't remember ever having seen this one before.

The boy who walked in was a tall, willowy blond. He had delicate features and a soft expression. Now there was someone who couldn't put his foot down even if he wanted to, Alain thought.

[crow]

It was not kind, but he wasn't in a charitable mood, considering the events of the morning. He raised a brow at the stranger, asking wordlessly what he was doing here. Alain's expression also suggested that the visitor ought to leave, but whether he took that suggestion was up to him. Alain wasn't responsible for what would happen if he didn't take the hint.

And, true to form, the stranger didn't. “I wasn't aware there was a coffee shop here,” he said, looking incredulously about him. This poor creature had no sense of self-preservation, evidently.

[crow]

Qual had an amused expression on his face, evidently looking forward to the conversation that would ensue. Alain smiled a tight, sharp smile. There was no warmth or friendliness whatsoever. Only now did the stranger begin to look a little concerned. Alain handed the cup of sludge over to Qual. He didn't even bother to see if the demon drank it or not. For the record, he didn't; Qual took one look at the contents of the mug and pushed it away quietly.

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“Yes,” Alain said. His voice was just as sharp as his smile. “May I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Nettle wine?” He could get the boy some other things too. Foxglove extract came to mind. Alain took some with his tea sometimes, but it was off limits to regular customers normally, and there was a good reason for that. The thought occurred to him, but he dismissed it, even if reluctantly. Just because he was unhappy was no reason to turn homicidal. What it would do to the reputation of his shop, he didn't like to think.

[crow]

“Er...” The stranger stammered uncertainly, staring up at the menu. Was he really going to order something? Alain wasn't sure if he was brave or oblivious, but his irritation was dissipating, and he was now more or less resigned to serving this fool and hopefully sending him on his way. Heaven forbid he loiter though. Alain was of half a mind to kick everyone out now, and close up shop for the next few days. Dealing with people without Blake's company, he found, was not something he relished. And Blake had really been gone too long--- Alain was worried, underneath everything. It was making him less patient than usual.

[crow]

Compounding his problems was the queer sort of headache that had been building ever since the boy walked in. No, it had started before that, but he had this nagging suspicion that the boy had something to do with it. He hadn't really noticed it at first, but now, at such close proximity, the buzzing in his head was making it hard to think. Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Alain took a few steps closer to the boy, operating on that hunch. He regretted it immediately. His head felt like it was going to split open. Alain's legs crumpled beneath him, and he fell to the ground, clutching his head. The stranger looked fretful, and even Qual's brows furrowed in concern. Alain would have liked to reassure them, or blame them--- but he was in no state to do either.

[crow]

“What... are you?” he asked the boy through gritted teeth. He looked human. He had felt human too, but there must have been something deeply wrong for Alain to be reacting like this.

“I'm... Esmond,” the boy tried. Not the answer Alain was looking for. He growled his frustration, and the boy flinched. “I'm human... I... I-Is there something I can do?” he said.

Qual stood up now. “Any magic? Any strange powers? Artifacts whose purposes you don't understand, perhaps? If you're human, it must be something you're carrying.” Alain would have laughed if he could. If he was going to be forced to be grateful to Qual by the end of this... But he was too indisposed to protest competent assistance, even if he didn't appreciate the avenue from whence it came.

[crow]

At this the boy hesitated, then nodded. Qual raised one brow expectantly at him. With a nervous look, the boy slowly drew a pendant from around his neck. It was a simple thing, a string cord wrapped around a single shard of... it looked like glass, some kind of cheap knock-off, except for the glow radiating from within. The demon could make nothing of it, but then he wasn't familiar with much of what Alain was. He wasn't even native to the realm. “Alain?” he asked instead, indicating the pendant. “Does this mean anything to you?”

[crow]

It shouldn't have, really. It was just some cheap bauble. That was all it had looked like. But there was something that Alain recognized in it. He couldn't put a name to it, but he knew at once that it had something to do with home, or his people; and that it was heinously wrong. There was no doubt in him that this was the cause of his pain, but that no longer mattered. He stood up shakily, and took one lurching step toward the boy. Esmond, he'd said. “Where did you get that?” he hissed, his teeth gritted half from fury and half from pain. Esmond took another step back, but Alain found the strength to take two more forward.

[crow]

“I don't know,” Esmond said. He was clearly terrified now. First the barrister had collapsed, and now he was advancing in so threatening a manner despite his indisposition. One didn't expect anything of the sort when one walked into a coffee shop, generally.

Alain continued to advance, and Esmond continued to retreat, until the boy ran up against a counter and could retreat no further. Alain gained on him, and seized the necklace, yanking on it so their faces were now inches apart. With rage blazing in his eyes, he snarled, “You will tell me where you acquired this thing, or by the thrice-damned hells I will make you remember.”