Owner	Pose
Billy Kaplan	A winter evening in New York. It's unseasonably warm, which means the locals are out in droves. Coffee of DOOM is packed tonight, yet somehow Billy managed to score a table all to himself. He has a cup of the house special orange-liqueur infused coffee in front of him, as well as a plate with three pieces of cherry cake. Dude likes his sweets. He's reading a physics journal, and four more journals are stacked on his table. His right hand fiddles with his vape. He can't use it inside, but fiddling with it absently between his fingers seems to suffice for now. He frowns at something he reads and he turns the page.
Wanda Maximoff	Nose in a book, wouldn't that be a lovely way to spend a balmy evening? Union Square isn't on Wanda's typical route, but it is all the same. A girl needs to change it up now and then. She emerges out of the Stand, the early show for the comedy club letting loose the audience in clumps onto 15th Avenue. They wander how they will, and before she turns north, whimsy or intentions send her instead to ghost along the sidewalk. The Latverian cafe shines bright as a star in the mix, probably in no small part to the real owner behind the place. She halts near the doorway, considering for a few moments. Not long enough to impede traffic but enough to get a double-take when someone goes by. That someone gawps, "Hey, are you--" The door snicks shut behind her as she slips within, shaking out her light scarf.
Daniel Chain	New York being New York, there's no shortage of weirdness to go around. Plenty of people who linger or wander the streets with their strange ways and mutterings, all of whom get duly ignored by the citizenry making their way along. As such, the figure in denim that strolls along with his head down would probably not get a second look -- except for the fact that he seems to be intently following a Roomba with a pair of rabbit-ears antannae sticking out of it. *That* gets a second look, before most hurry along their way. As for Daniel, his full attention is on the guide that he's finagled out of the parts a helpful Hex has gifted him, which certainly seem to be homing in in... something? Glancing up as it comes to a halt, and swivels to 'look' at a nearby storefront. "Here? Hm... " Reaching down to pick up the faithful guide, and carefully stash it away in his backpack... To most, the young man who opens the door to the stylish coffee house looks no stranger than the average New Yorker despite the white streak in his hair. One of the arsty types maybe, dressed in a simple pair of denim jacket and jeans, pack slung over his shoulder and guitar case at his side. To those who are privy to certain forces, the entrance of a Limbo-tainted individual would probably come as a shift in the air. Daniel himself however, is left staring for a moment as the first thing that greets him is the smell of roasting coffee -- he's not familiar with it, but even just the smell seems *very* different than the usual gas station and dimestore coffeehouse blends he's gotten a whiff of every now and again. The second is the rather elegant venue itself, which he quite expecting. And quick-steps out of the doorway to keep from blocking the flow of traffic, taking a slow look around as he reminds himself he's here for a reason...
Billy Kaplan	Billy is, well, to put it simply, a god-in-the-making, a baby god. He's deeply tied into the magical flows and goings-on of the world around him, and detecting mystical auras is quite simply his jam. (And for those with similar sensitivity, he also would be quite simple to spot.) When first Wanda, then Daniel enter the shop his head snaps up. TWO people with potent, powerful aspects coming in one after the other. The young man peers around the shop to make sure he didn't sleep through others. Maybe something is about to go down? He grabs his black leather jacket, which was hanging on the back of his chair, and slips it on then stuffs the vape in his pocket. He's not sure if Something Is About To Happen or not, but just in case he wants to be ready. There is no hostility or negativity in his expression as he watches Wanda and Daniel. But for sure there is open curiosity and he doesn't seem to be hiding the fact that he is appraising the two.
Wanda Maximoff	The woman keeping to the foyer area of the coffeeshop unwinds her stained-glass scarf and folds it up into a precise, particoloured square of practically no volume at all. No act of legerdemain to tuck that into the pocket of a light, calf-sweeping coat meant to be more fashionable than entirely functional. Next comes a mild scuffing of her boots on the mat, and she counts herself fortunate not to be trampled by the exodus of diners or the inbound regulars eager to stew over geopolitics, chess, or quite wonderful music and an operatorte. Multilayered vanilla cream and chocolate-drizzled cakes on the menu might decide it after all. That and not getting in Daniel's way, since Wanda turning right around would inhibit easy movement. "Pardon me. I did not mean to get in your way." Transian stains the words in a strange way, not quite Slavic or Latin. More a muddle of both. She gestures at the host stand. "Go ahead, if you like." The traces of a smile have a way of lighting up her amber eyes. "I insist, it's no trouble." Sidestepping gives a clear line of sight to the Latverian employee--would any other be employed here? Nothing about her theoretically stands out as far from ordinary, save the weathered gold ring on a chain worn around her neck. The offending band hides under her top. Most magical signatures, here, she suppresses instinctively and consciously. Just like the multiversez is holding its breath an awful lot, lately. The center of it all casts a look back, maybe crossing Billy's check of his surroundings. The smile widens.
Daniel Chain	Daniel isn't privy to the same kind of innate senses as the other two -- he has them, but has come to rely on a visual element for his own works. And as such, continues to take a slow look at the shop, trailing the course of the threads that float along his view. One or of of them seem to twist and coil a bit strangely, and he follows its course until his gaze comes to rest on Billy... But Wanda's speaking up jars him briefly out of his concentation. "Ah? Oh! Thank you," Daniel says politely, briefly ducking his head to her. The accent is noted, but not really remarked upon -- he hasn't spent enough time in enough of this city to really think of any one sound as more unique than another. A Brooklyn lilt will sound quite different from a Gaelic one, but to him it's all mentally filed under 'Earther' for the moment. Nor is any other part of her remarkable, thanks to that suppression. Another glance across the room though, to where he was looking earlier as he takes a few steps into the coffehouse, as he tries to decide how he wants to play this. His look does brighten though, as he spies the piano further off -- ah, but it's custom to put some coin into the place first before making use of its nicities, isn't it? And so he detours for a moment, heading over towards the counter...
Billy Kaplan	Okay. Alright. It doesn't appear that anything bad is going down. That leads to Billy relaxing his posture a bit. He absently takes a sip of the orange-liqueur coffee. He's been...stressed of late. He's probably just reading something into nothing. Looking like he feels a bit foolish, the young man shrugs the jacket off and again slings it over the back of his chair. A member of the staff -- a man in his early 20s with a scruffy, unshaven face and curly brown hair -- is making his way around the shop with a pot of coffee. "Can I fill you up?" he asks Billy. Looking the dude up and down, Billy quirks a grin. "Hell yeah you can. I'll take some coffee, too." He pushes the mostly empty cup closer so the server can refill it. He returns to reading the physics journal he has open on the table in front of him. There's nothing Bad going on here. Right? I mean, he should just stop fretting over everything and relax for once. It's no use. He flips the journal shut. His concentration is now shot. He returns to observing the two people who entered. What's going on with them?
Wanda Maximoff	Nothing unless uneasy smiles and extra formality stand out as odd. Pretty much anywhere in New York, the stilted eloquence might feel strange but there are portraits on the walls dedicated to a gentleman warlord known for bombast and speaking of himself in the plural third person on occasion. How then not to rise or sink to the occasion? All that to say, Wanda slips her hands into her pockets and then thinks the better of it, leaving them at her sides. Always a bit of a risk figuring out what goes where, especially under almost certain surveillance. She doesn't let the smile slip or grow too wide. Daniel heads for the counter and she half-closes her eyes, a heavy-lidded expression natural in the golden light of chandeliers and waning spring shadows. Her path slips around a few readers with their newspapers, the centerpoint of reality not even bothering to read the headlines. Right on past someone hiding a dubious novel with a swipe of their finger, in search of an open seat. The stranger stain around Daniel is enough that she would have to be blind not to notice. Same, the tantalizing tug so terribly similar to her own. Not quite the same. Enough to lock a glance in one of the mirrors, and swivel, dropping into the nearest open seat. It happens to be right at the polished counter, close enough, almost at a round table. "Could I have a slice of the Kirschtorte?" she tells the same server with a coffee pot. He doesn't have to know why he heads from the Kaplan to the Maximoff scion, only he does. Cherry cake. Black Forest, in fact. "A pot of tea, too, please. We all need a little refinement in our lives."
Daniel Chain	The figure to whom all this decor is dedicated, doesn't immediately click with Daniel. His education on Earth culture did include noting of some of the major mystical powers, save that he was told only two or three of those could be found in New York at any given time. Something about a long-standing fued with a family of four? And then there is of course the Queen, who is a power unto herself. But in the end he's a simple member of the Ebon Skein, and he doubts he'll find himself crossing paths with such an esteemed presence during his time here. The various names and types of the blends and drinks laid out for Daniel are looked at in fascination for a moment -- they almost seem like magical formulae unto themselves! But he's not here to sample the wares, and the handful of crumpled bills he pulls from his jacket pocket will only go so far. And so in the end, he settles for a simple black coffee, and after a murmured question, turns to walk back across the room... ...and stops right in front of Billy's table. Coffee in one hand, guitar case in the other, steadly looking at the other youth for a long, heavily-silent moment...
Billy Kaplan	He can't vape in here so some cake is going to have to do for purposes of relieving anxiety. He tugs a chunk off of one of the three pieces of cherry cake on his table and pops it in his mouth. He's somewhere or other in mid chew when the dude stops in front of his table. Billy's mouth is, of course, full of cake at that exact moment. Timing is everything in life. Billy makes an exaggerated, dramatic show of chewing his mouthful of food and swallowing it, watching Daniel all the while. "Dope hair," is what he comes up with. He nods his head in the direction of the guitar case. "S'that a machine gun in there? You here to gun me down?" His expression and tone, of course, reveal that he's just being jocular.
Wanda Maximoff	Truly, all that coffee boils down to alchemical rites and rituals. Except drinking it won't immediately kill you, or imperil you in the long-term, thanks to a lack of quicksilver, saltpeter, or other noxious components. Praise the gods for that. Wanda may be an odd person out drinking tea, but the delivery of a pleasant silver service won't take very long to acquire. Neither will her cake, and she considers attacking it with gusto. A fork plucked up has to be used sometimes. Munch. One neat bite, and now it's her mouth full in a mirror of Billy withdrawing his hand and finding an answer for Daniel. Chocolate and cherry commingle in a practically sublime fashion. Following no sort of pattern, she puts her chin on her knuckles. Something to study from afar. "If you're considering it, challenge him to a duel by piano instead. The owner would not like the alternative so much."