The problem with storing vitality in Phylacteries was that it left you completely exhausted afterwards. Jackson was just considering turning in for the night even though it was currently daytime when his phone hummed at him from his desk. He saw Max's number and considered ignoring it, but he never rang without good reason. He answered it, listened to the instruction and then yawned. Max always picked the worst times to find them a case, but there was no point complaining, it paid the bills after all. After shrugging into his coat, Jackson put his revolver in the holster and made an effort to pull a comb through his hair. 
 The air was cool outside, good because it helped him wake up, and the walk into the city to find the coffee shop got the blood pumping around his body. The coffee shop on 21st and 7th was a quaint little place, not the kind you'd expect to find a meeting of a world-class supernatural task force. Good thing too, it would be embarrassing for the S.I.N to run into a world-class task force, although they might be able to ask for some pointers. He noticed Max, boss to him, sitting at a table with the other one, Olderson, sipping at a drink. He pointedly ignored them and went to get something with as much caffeine in as possible. That done he sat down gave them both a polite nod and waited for the others to arrive.