The fairly standard routine of Theo's morning didn't vary all that much from day-to-day activities - he figured that he didn't have enough enemies desperate enough to harm him that he needed to change up his schedule all that much, and therefore had settled in certain habits each day he awoke. Firstly, was breakfast. He'd never been fond of heavy meals, but at the same time, wouldn't touch human food unless it had been well made with decent produce. Therefore it was usually some freshly warmed blood (When he couldn't get it from the vein from one of his... "employees") paired with poached eggs and whatever he could be bothered to pair with it. Following this, he was bathed, groomed and dressed before leaving the apartment and opening up his business. Far too early for most wine-lovers to come in, but he usually had some people come in for brunch. And students, strangely enough. He couldn't imagine how drinking at 9 in the morning would help the children in their studies, but then again, Theo had never suffered the stress of a higher education. Regardless of his customers, they were seen too by his staff; offices above were checked for voicemails or important business, and once tended to, he could finally indulge himself in his morning coffee. The Crypt Cafe wasn't the typical aesthetic he'd grown accustomed too, but the coffee there was good, the barista's polite, and the clientele quieter than other cafes in Edgetoun.

A simple schedule, but one Theo liked to stick too. Unfortunately, his day was shattered the second he'd finished poaching his eggs.

An text 'pinging' on his phone stopped Theo as he plated his breakfast, a frown creasing his face. As any businessman should, he kept separate phones for separate occasions. One for pleasure, one for work, and the last one was connected to the Court. With the latter being the one alerting him, Theo abandoned the kitchen to see what the issue was. Those of Methuselah weren't ones for idle conversation via text message, that was for sure. Examining the text for a brief second, Theo was by his radio in the next, turning it on and tuning it to the correct radio station to hear the last few sentences of the hijacked broadcast. His hands clenched in irritation, and he waited a moment before answering the text.

Damned humans. No doubt the Court would be pestering him all day now.

While Theo held no ill will against the werewolves, he didn't particularly hold any love for them either. An attack on their kind wouldn't bother him in the slightest, but it was the fallout of such an action that would be concerning. Vengeance would breed vengeance, and if someone didn't do something, the humans and Weres would be in all out war against one another. A war the humans would surely lose, but with homo sapiens being his and many others' favourite food source, that too was a problem.

It would be even worse if their turned their sights to the vampires, and Theo had no doubts that it would. In no time at all the humans would be screeching in terror at their oceans and forests, polluting the former and burning the latter in order to kill mermaids and bigfoot. As if they existed.

Ignoring his phone as more messages pinged through, Theo turned to his bedroom and got ready for the day. The office would have to wait now, as would his espresso. AS it happened, he had other priorities on this day as well. For one, he had an appointment with the good Doctor Wilcox, provided she was finished with her other 'patients'. No doubt she had some opinions about the broadcast as well.

Swiftly dressed in an impeccably clean and pressed suit and tie, Theo was ready to leave before hearing another text alert - this time, from his personal phone. Looking at it with interest, he raised his eyebrows in surprise as he saw who it was from. So, Abigail was back in town. Was it coincidence, that she'd arrived the same day the humans had issued their formal threat to their world?

"A long time indeed, cousin. We've plenty to catch up on - I'm in the same place you left me. Noon should be fine."

Now he was fully booked for the day. Although different to how he would have liked, Theo much preferred spending time between Clara and Abigail than complaining with the other old vampires at the Court. He just hoped something else didn't come up later in the day...

---

---

Zoey was still frowning at the news on her phone when Olivia replied, drawing a look from the Doctor.

"I'm Australian." She retorted swiftly, raising a chastising eyebrow, though smiling so that the younger girl knew she was teasing. Although it had been many years since she'd lived in Australia, remnants of her accent remained, along with a strong sense of pride in her home country. It was just a matter of principle to be mildly offended at being called a pom. Booting up her computer, she waited for the fairly decrepit machine to wake up fully as conversed with her. "Not much to do, unless we get some more bodies through the door. You can always chase up some tox reports for me, though you'd get a quicker answer from the corpses themselves." She said with a grin, pulling up her calendar as the computer finally arose from it's slumber. Just a reminder about a lunch meeting with a certain pernickety lawyer. Of course. That explained why Belinda had fled the country so quickly.

"Tah." Taking the tea as soon as it was handed to her, Zoey took a few grateful mouthfuls. She hadn't realised just how dehydrated she'd felt, but then, a diet of red bull and coffee since 3 in the morning didn't do much for quenching one's thirst. Pulling up a new file to start filling in the report for the John Doe autopsy she'd just finished, Zoey hesitated. Nick had been pretty lost on where to go after the examination didn't pull up anything to do with murder. She should really just wait for the toxicology and forensic reports to be finished and come back, but the temptation always hung over her head. Physical evidence was all that could be used in court (God knows what kind of shit would happen if they allowed psychics to give testimonies.), but if she could find out once and for all how that man died... all it would take was a touch.

Pausing and glancing at Olivia as she continued talking, Zoey mentally corrected herself. A touch and some privacy.

God, that sounded wrong.

"That's nice of them." Zoey replied idly, realising that she'd never asked Olivia much about her life back home, beyond work-related stuff and small talk. Still, Olivia had never really surrendered much information about her home life, nor had Zoey. Her own existence as both a witch and a psychic hadn't had all that much impact on her so far, but one could never be too careful these days. Especially with the current climate. "And I doubt it'll be a problem. You might have to come in if we end up having a pile-up of bodies or something, but Professor Carlisle should be back by then. You'll need to let her know, though." The Prof was in charge of holidays and the like, but she was a decent sort, as long as you didn't lie to her or mess her about.

Pondering over how long the meeting with Mr. Carvallo would take - probably a while, what with three victims to go through and the very thorough nature of the man - Zoey's mind turned yet again to the other victims laying in fridges in the next room. Some of them were still unsolved, and definitely needed her unique help. Depending on how busy the day was, she'd have to be out tonight to stick her nose where it didn't belong once again to stir up some clues.

"Sorry my bad." Olivia said with a slight laugh, rubbing the back of her neck it was a little bit awkward she really hadn't had to much time to get to know Zoey all that much. She, did idle chatter but mostly stuck to herself figuring that a whole new city and country would be better for her anyway. Olivia took a sip of her tea and nodded, as she pushed herself over to her desk on her chair and started to boot up her own computer as well. "I'll get them reports and send out some emails out as well." Olivia said as she leaned back in her seat and waited for the thing to boot up.

"So did you go surfing a lot in Aussie?" Olivia asked as she turned her head to look at her partner as she finally got her computer started up. she went through her emails and started to send them out to whatever institutions that requested them, she didn't think much about it. Olivia ran a hand through her hair letting out a slight sigh and took another drink from her tea and stretched out, she was still waking up a little bit.

Then Olivia started to request those toxicology reports from the tech labs over email, while looking back over towards Zoey and nodded. "I'll run those days off by her as well, just wanted to let you know first as well, and i'll totally come in if bodies start piling up." She said with a slight smile and nodded about her parents. "I do miss them, it will be great to see and visit them again." Olivia said, just wanting to keep the bit of her being a werewolf a secret after all.

Vampires don't sleep, not even in coffins, despite what folklore and cinema have to say on the subject. Particularly fashion or image conscious Vampires might keep a coffin or two around the place just for the look of the thing but they have no need to shut down for eight-to-ten hours of maintenance and stress relief like humans do. The undead get their rest, revitalisation and relaxation far more efficiently by drinking deeply of human blood. Or, in a pinch, animal blood.

Some Vampires, often the more eccentric or older ones, do enjoy putting their heads down though. True sleep is impossible but most immortals see the value in closing their eyes to be alone with their thoughts, if they've got the patience to lie still for long enough. Younger Vampires often eschewed the practise, preferring to burn the candle not just from both ends but from both sides as well, and generally didn't pick up the habit until the sheer wait of constant consciousness bore them down, often to an early grave. Or a late grave, if you want to get technical.

Nicodem had been in the habit of getting three hours of 'unconsciousness' a night for more than two hundred years and found it as refreshing now as he had back then, in an uncomfortable bunk in a Napoleonic stockade. There had been so many hours in each day of captivity that he'd needed to find something to start whittling them down while he waited for the firing squad. That hadn't worked out particularly well for them or anyone in the surrounding area but the habit had stuck with him, one of the many small things that had slowly built towards his current rigid and meticulously maintained schedule.

Three hours was enough though, he mused, as your own thoughts could become deafening if you listened to them for too long. He was currently going through his morning routine and carefully considering the day ahead, the pale light of dawn just barely peaking over the rooftops outside. Nicodem's flat was directly above his pub, The Slye Fox, and had a similarly dark, old and well maintained look to it. Well aged bookcases with heavy loads of mature tomes shared the space with polished mahogany tables and venerable arm chairs. The decor was antiquated, to be sure, but comfortable and homely.

At least, it was if you could see well in the dark, Vampires generally don't see much need for lamps.

Currently, Nicodem's attention was on his shoe. It was a hard working thing and appropriate for many occasions, black and formal enough for a funeral but with thick enough soles for a back alley brawl. It's only flaw was a large scuff down one side that Nicodem didn't remember getting there. Might've happened when he was taking the Fox's bins out the night before, though it equally could've gotten there during a scuffle he'd had with a pair of the Methuselah Court's pawns the night before that. The latter was much worse because not only would it mean the jumped-up half fangs had marked him, it'd mean he'd been walking around for a full day and night with marred footwear.

He only hope Loki hadn't noticed, the old bastard never missed a chance to poke fun.

With a muttered curse in Estonian, a language Nicodem took particular pleasure from swearing in, he set to work with the polish and brush to restore the shoe's former glory. The rest of his outfit was, of course, immaculate. A grey silk shirt with Swiss tabs to facilitate rolling up one's sleeves, a thick woollen waistcoat with deep pockets over that and a pair of slate trousers to round out the colour scheme. He was occasionally accused, normally by Eve, of dressing far too nicely for running a pub. She said he should open a fancy uptown restaurant so that his wardrobe finally matched his occupation but he paid her no mind.

It was, after all, a modern pleasure to dress well. In times past, you'd make do with whatever you got and hope it kept you warm. Fashion was a far off concern, far down the hierarchy of needs for anyone not of the upper crust and Nicodem's only interaction with crusts had been eating them. But over the last few hundred years, clothes that fit well, looked good and kept the weather out had become not only available and affordable but ubiquitous. If anything, it baffled Nicodem whenever he saw someone not taking advantage of it.

When he was fully prepared for the day, shoes polished to within an inch of their lives and a charcoal coloured tie Windsor knotted around his neck, Nicodem went downstairs, put on his coat and took off at a brisk walk towards the off-license, the only place open at this point in the morning. The man behind the counter looked up from his phone and nodded to Nicodem, silently receiving payment for a newspaper and pack of Silk Cuts, a cheap and foul brand of cigarettes. He knew the bar owner of old, as had his father before him, and both had carefully never asked him how it was that he never seemed to age.

Paper in hand, Nicodem returned to his abode, his eyes travelling over a particularly forlorn young things slowly stumbling along the pavement. His sense of smell, an experienced and well honed sense, told him she smelled off nothing but the component smells of her outfit, all perfume and no sweat, all alcohol and no breath. This allowed him to file her under the heading 'GHOST' in his lexicon of faces in Edgetoun, a category that seemed to have doubled in size over the last year or so. People were surely not dying more, so perhaps there was some sort of backed up pipe over on the other side?

The thought put the subtlest of smiles on his face.

Nicodem spent the next several hours quietly smoking his way through half the packet of cigarettes, enjoyed alongside a cup of black Keemun tea, and reading the paper. Never having really bothered to catch up to the digital age, Nicodem got his news from word of mouth or from the printed word. Both were taken with a hefty pinch of salt, few having had as much experience of being misled and lied than an old Vampire, but it paid to keep even a vague idea of what was happening in the world because you never knew when it might suddenly start happening to you.

Most of it seemed about what he had expected, further fear mongering about the Other on the front page while the pages within experimented with more curious and often salacious thoughts about the unknown. Mortals did, in his experience, react to new information with base emotions such as fear, lust and anger so things were simply proceeding as he'd expected. The trial for that werewolf with the garish name was coming up and every other page seemed to feel the need to bring it up and rail about the police's failures to stop him or discuss the pressure on the state to get a successful conviction.

Still, Nicodem wasn't the one behind bars and the day was wasting while he read so, eventually, he cleared away his tea cup, ash tray and paper and made his way downstairs. After a few moment's fiddling with the radio to find the Russian Classical Station, he began taking the chairs down, replacing the coasters and generally preparing the Fox for another day of servicing Edgetoun's needs in the areas of company, camaraderie and, of course, alcohol. On particularly busy days, he would grumble about how many people flowed through the Fox's door to Eve or Loki, but even for a millennia old monster of the shadows with scars older than most royal families, it was secretly nice to feel wanted.

Like everything else in his life, Nicodem had the opening of the fox down to a well oiled routine and was done within a handful of minutes. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was now five minutes to ten, not a time that most bars opened at. But then, most bars didn't serve alcohol to dhampires, ghosts and other members of the undead. At least, not to their knowledge.

Nicodem slid back the bolts, flipped the sign on the door and settled down on a seat behind the bar. Anatoli Lyadov was playing on the radio behind him, the sun was now properly shining through the heavily obscured windows and he had the crossword in front of him. A good start to the day, he thought, as he bent down to look at the first clue.

1 Across: Sign of good or evil for the future (4)...

An easy one. Nicodem's pen scribbled in the letters; O, M, E, N.

Interacting with: Pearl (NPC), and a text sent to Alistair @Mchaggis and Theo @MiddleEarthRoze

The text from Theo came in first, so Abby responded. Sounds good. With Alistair's text following shortly after Abby glared at the phone. "Why do you have to make my life so complicated?" She asked rhetorically. Abby took a deep breath and texted Theo again. Open invite to Sly Fox from Alistair at the same time. If you don't want to join, I can meet you after. She added a quick text to Alistair. I'll be there. Might have my cousin with me.

"Pearl. We have lunch plans. At a pub." Abby rolled her eyes. "At least it is Sly Fox."

"What's special about Sly Fox?"

"It is owned by one of our kind. One thing I can give Europe at least is children aren't shunned from establishments like that." Abby grinned and came into the kitchen where Pearl was finishing pouring the hot water into cups with tea bags in them.

"Will you need me then?" Peal asked as she played with her tea bag.

"I think it'd be good to have you there, just in case, besides this involves you too." Abby's phone buzzed. Glancing over told her that something was up. There were several texts and a couple of emails all coming in. "Oh," She sighed deeply. "I'm going to get dressed. It is getting worse. You have got to be kidding me."

"What happened now?" Pearl furrowed her brows in worry.

"Turn on the news. I'll listen while getting ready."

---

Kaytlin let her form go. Her sister and brother-in-law were on their way to work. Travel was a tedium Kaytlin had happily gotten rid of from her life.

She was at the office. A familiar place. She had put it together herself, purchased the curtains, tables, and filing cabinets herself. Kaytlin enjoyed the quiet before her co-founders would arrive. When she was alive, she would turn on the lights and do other menial things. Now, it was a waste of her energy to do that.

They would need a plan. A way to let the Others know they existed, and a way to make it safe for them. Kaytlin wasn't happy about the idea of just opening the doors to strangers, so she would rather have it work by word of mouth. Alistair would be a good point of contact. God knew how many Others he knew. Kaytlin realized how few Others she knew. A few vampires, a handful of ghosts, and an even smaller group of Dhampirs. It was a frustration, but maybe she could increase her social group. That would require socializing. The best person for that job was the fellow ghost, Amara.

"Beat us here again Kaytlin." William joked putting his hat on the coat rack. Kaytlin smiled, humoring him. "Did you solve world hunger while we were coming the tedious way?"

"No, sadly. Though I did come with an idea. It is a terrible one, but it will make a friend of mine very happy."

"Oh?" Evelyn asked. Kaytlin grinned again.

Opening up her fridge with a groan she scanned the half-empty shelves for some eggs. Luckily she still had a few, along with some English muffins. She quickly snatched up a half-drank jug of OJ and two glasses, carrying all of her supplies in a delicate act of true dexterity. The apartment hall was quiet, but Stein’s room had some level of noise. He was talking to someone on the phone. Aila considered leaving him to his devices and skipping breakfast, but god only knew that if she didn’t get him going no one could.

So she balanced her variety of groceries on one arm, pinning them with her head while she snatched the spare key she kept in her inner jacket pocket. She deftly unlocked the door, but Stein didn’t seem to notice her entry. He continued on with his conversation, which at this point could’ve been clearer had Aila decided to focus – but she wasn’t one to pry. Besides Stein wasn’t the most fascinating, he was more… Comfy. Kind of like a nice old sofa you’ve had at your house for a few decades. He wasn’t going to blow anyone’s mind or anything – but he was dependable in a kind of way.

She snatched a recently cleaned frying pan from the drying rack and started the stove up, waiting for it to heat up. She scanned the apartment for any signs of… Well signs he needed more than she could offer. But he was generally pretty clean for a male cop who lived alone. But that was most likely habit at this point – for someone like him with habits like his. She was worried about the effect of the past little while. It was at that point she heard his voice raise and she perked up, out of habit. But at that point the stove had heated up enough, and they were had to get going to be on time.

Aila took an egg in each hand, expertly cracking two eggs at a time until four eggs sat in each corner of the frying pan, simmering and singing the bottom of the yolk. She could hear his footsteps at this point.

“Morning.” She called out to him, lifting a hand but not turning to meet his gaze. Her other hand was focused on making sure the eggs didn’t stick to the pan with a small spatula. “Help yourself to some OJ, breakfast will be ready soon.” She called out, rubbing her nose with her hand before turning back to glance at her… Friend?

Their relationship confused most, including Aila at times. He was something of a surrogate brother or father, but she wasn’t ready to face what that meant yet. So for now, friend is fine.

“It is morning, isn’t it?” Stein smiled at Aila, strolling into the kitchen with his tie noticeably crooked. His voice had a husky drawl to it, showing that he was indeed calm, regardless of his discussion with his deceased partner moments ago. The calm simply hid the fact that his mind continuously harbored on Coli’s words. Her words from today. Her words from yesterday. Her words from two weeks ago... Her words before she died. Even when she wasn’t around, she haunted him, for better or for worse. A curse and a blessing.

First, he couldn’t accept the fact that she died, right under his nose. Second, he couldn’t believe that someone would want to kill her. People may say she wasn’t murdered, but Stein was fully convinced someone did end her life and not the other way around. Colette was not that type of woman to run off and disappear without notice, or for that matter, to commit suicide. They might have little evidence, but with how bold and meddlesome she was when she could breathe, he had no doubt she was involved in something beyond her. Truthfully, he believed it was something related to ‘the Other’.

As of now though, it was a theory, he had no idea what happened to her and that feeling — the feeling of not knowing — infuriated him. Lastly, she came back out of the blue and he couldn’t comprehend the fact that she was once again back in his life. Daily, like the past, yet nothing like the past at all. She was dead and had limitations. All he could do was try his best to seek the answers she needed before she was gone, for good.

The thing is, did he want her gone for good?

Heading to his fridge, he opened it, but rather than get the orange juice out, he chose milk. Before he closed the fridge, he stared into it, at everything that was wrong with his life. Since he more often than not spent ungodly hours working, he had no need to stock up on food. Even if he did, the fridge itself was too small. Sure, he could afford a house at Avalon Point, but there was no need when his fridge embodied his current life. Empty. Not many mouths to feed, besides him and Aila.

If there was a fridge that had more food in it, it would be hers not his. He simply had nice kitchenware that she liked to use. Oh, and usually he left her money for groceries in the cookie jar that never had cookies in it. It was a fair bargain. As odd as it seemed, the way they did things worked for them. Rarely did he have visitors. The only person who outwardly visit(ed) him was Coli. Most people sought him out while he was on the job because rarely was he guaranteed to be home.

Unless, someone knew about his traditional shared breakfast with Aila, which was only known by a couple of coworkers since Stein took her to work. The question did come up. Either way, there have been times he headed to work early, before her, breaking the streak of together-breakfast. He would make amends by placing a pastry on her desk and providing lunch in the breakroom fridge ‘For Aila’.

Walking to the cabinet beside her, he grabbed a glass mug and poured the white liquid in it. This was their routine. He had forgotten when they hadn’t eaten breakfast together. Weird, how time flies. “Did you listen in to On The Edge? We’re going to have a phenomanal day today." He paused and scoffed to himself, "Good. I work better under stress.” Waiting for her response, he chugged the milk in a matter of seconds and then poured himself another glass. What? He liked milk.

Aila watched Stein chug his glass of milk, he was a fiend for the stuff, this was clearly evidenced by his pouring of a second glass. She groaned at his mention of On the Edge. “I did have the pleasure to tuning into that particular broadcast,” she snapped her spatula against the countertop in frustration just enough to make a sharp ringing from the metal of the utensil. “I’m surprised you didn’t hear my reaction, honestly.” She noted sliding the spatula underneath two of the eggs and flipping them carefully so the yolk was slightly seared. She glanced over her shoulder, throwing her hair that had been resting in front of her shoulder back to being behind her and sighed.

“I’m not looking forward to today much.” She said in a rather dry tone trying to think of something else. “What’s your weekend looking like?” She asked, interested enough but also knowing Stein it was something along the lines of more work. While Aila would have to be interrogated to spill any beans on her own ideas for what might be fun this weekend, she did have something in mind.

She had a met a girl about her age not too long ago when she was working out, got her number – she figured she might dial it this weekend to see if she was free. Aila wasn’t one for superficiality but, well, Steph was a looker. “I’ve got… I’m probably going out for a meal at some point but that’s about it.” She said skillfully snatching the finished eggs onto two small plates and carrying them out towards the small table they always ate at. She looked at a newspaper with curiosity but given today’s broadcast she figured it would be more of the same.

Five tips to housetrain your werewolf and all that kind of shit. She slid Stein’s plate across to him while snatching up a two forks for the two of them. She grabbed two pieces of bread as well, smushing her eggs between them and taking a huge bite of the drippy mess that was her breakfast. “I mean, why can’t people just mind their own fuckin’ business with this shit anyway?” She forced out of her mouth in the middle of chewing her egg sandwich.

“Y’know?”
As she talked, Stein put away the container of milk. To her response of being surprised he didn't hear her reaction, he simply shrugged. Unbeknownst to the pup, he was distracted with a conversation with the dead. Taking his seat, at the table, he pulled out his phone to check his emails. His eyes naturally drifted to the 'draft' section where there was 1 email in it. Incomplete. For Blake Preston.

"My weekend?" He glanced up from his phone's screen, having read that he, along with his coworkers, were tasked with reopening cold cases. There was one cold case he cared about solving, that consumed his every thought. It wasn't like he had a ghost reminding him every day of it. "I'm going to revisit some old places." That he knew Coli liked. One being the Blue Haze. If there was one suspicious race that could've potentially killed his partner, it was witches. She took a strong liking to magic. Probably because it made her mundane human life less... mundane. He never understood the fascination, but then again, he never understood the fascination Reina had with werewolves.

He was going to explain further, that he had bumped into the Carmichaels, who he refuses to see for mourning counseling, even six months after Coli's disappearance they're still trying, but Aila's mind seemed to be elsewhere. Matilda Carmichael did slip in some food for thought, which inspired him to go down memory lane. She said something ambiguous that made him reflect on himself and consider how to find the answers he was seeking. It was like she knew he had a personal agenda and she wanted to give him some aid.

Not today, though. Tomorrow he would revisit all the places Coli loved. He would never be ready to reopen wounds but the fact of the matter was, the wounds were already open and they wouldn't close until he got to the bottom of this. "A meal?" His steady voice resonated in the kitchen. His eyes displayed intrigue, happy that Aila was taking initiative and enjoying her life. "In other words, Ms. Atleo, you got herself a date." Stein smirked at his beloved neighbor. His plate slid in front of him and like a solder in the army, Stein finished his eggs before Aila even sat down and looked at the newspaper. One day, he would die from eating like this. That day was hopefully not today.

He chuckled at her frustration while he wiped his lips on a napkin. Grabbing an apple from his fruit bowl, he tossed it up in the air, before rubbing it against his shirt, "Because we all have one common trait, Aila. We like to be in the know. It's in my job to know who is up to no good, it's in your job to know what the team is up to and how to address people when it comes to their new found knowledge of 'us'. People are curious. They don't like being in the dark. And for better or for worse, we have to deal with moderating — how they react — when they seek out more knowledge." Chomping into the apple, he took a moment to chew, before continuing, "By the way, Reid wants us to open up cold cases. See if they have anything to do with 'The Other'." Stein's last statement had heavy connotations behind it, because Aila would know of the one cold case they deliberately made sure he could not work on. The one case he cared about. The Cold Case of Colette Bonnet.

Aila yawned after taking one last bite of her sandwich. It was draining living in a world that was spouting off nonsense 24/7 but now all that nonsense was directed at her. It was the talk of the town and it was annoying as all hell.

That being said, she had a few things to be grateful for.

"Stein," Aila said glancing over at the stove's clock. "We have to head out, I don't think you'll be able to take your food with you so hurry up, okay?" She got up and stared rinsing off her plate and dishes. Stein was quick to finish as well, and soon enough the two were on their way to work, ready to confront the day. Or, as ready as they were going to be after a half-assed breakfast.