“It’s fine, don’t worry.” He said, the person I had just ran face first into was…at least a foot taller than me, so my face went right into his chest, a bit broader shouldered and broader chested than myself, but wiry and thin, not bodybuilder level muscular, more like a gymnast where the litheness of the body was just as important as the strength of the muscles. He had extremely proper and straight posture despite the fact he was looking down to where the coffee had splashed against his black leather raincoat, he looked up to me as he met my eyes, he has softly tanned, but heavily cool olive toned skin with this thick braid of black hair that rested against his sternum, but his eyes…his eyes were like a whirlpool: not in their pattern, they are these deep, rich and dark emerald green tones that darkened further till they turned a pitch ink black around his pupils, like his pupils were swallowing the color and pulling the color of his irises into the voids that made his pupils. I’m guessing something along the lines of draconic by the shape of his face: the high, sharp cheekbones, the upward flick to the outer corner of his eyes, the almost liner like thickness of the lashes, the length of his limbs, hands adorned with long black claws and the extended look to his neck. He was dressed rather nicely in a navy suit with a just slightly paler windowpane pattern, black boots on his feet, a starched white, a rich chocolate brown velvet vest and a soft creamy beige ascot with a black pin on the knot, a matching blue blazer with a matching cream pocket-square, I saw a gold chain leading to a pocket watch tucked into his vest pocket, pinned to the lapel with a moth shaped pin in the thick material, black circle cuff-links and an ankle length black leather raincoat around his shoulders, black gloves on his hands and a burgundy thick cashmere scarf wrapped around his shoulders and neck. “That was my fault, I was not looking where I was going” he said, voice this slow almost calming drawl, a slight vocal fry.

            “Are you sure?” I asked

            “It’s fine, are you alright?” he asked

            “I’m fine, I’m fine” I said, feeling my face blush a little behind my mask. “Can…can I at least buy you another coffee? I feel bad for spilling it. I know a good café right down the block from here.”

            “I may take you up on that offer.” He said, “Aden” he added as he held his hand out, I rose my hands a little.

            “I’m…sorry, I don’t shake hands.”

            “No problem, understandable.”

            “And I’m Vlad” I said

            “Well, Vlad…may I take you up on that offer for a better coffee?” he asked, I nodded softly.

            “Sure…sure, it’s this way” I said as I walked down the street, “Are you new to town too?” I asked

            “No, I’ve been here a handful of months, maybe half a year or so, you?”

            “I’ve been here two months…I came here for work.”

            “Same”

            “What do you do?”

            “I’m a professor. You?”

            “I’m a doctor”

            “Where at?”

            “Boston Magical Municipal Hospital” I said softly nodding to my right,

            “Quite prestigious.”

            “Yeah” I said nodding softly

            “Are you a nurse or a doctor?”

            “I am a surgeon”

            “Really?” they asked

            “Surprised?”

            “You just look quite young.”

            “I’m twenty-eight. What about you, mister professor?”

            “I am twenty-nine, I literally just got this job for the last school year, I am still very green as a professor. I’m guessing by the accent…Moscow?”

            “I am, yourself?”

            “Ah, I was born in Ashdale”

            “Right over here” I said leading Aden and myself up to a rather large glass and dark wood fronted café, the outdoor seated was empty and the umbrella were collapsed to protect everything. A soft bell chimed as Aden opened the door for me. Inside was warm and cozy, lots of wood and everything in browns and sepia tones with any fabric being creams and ivories. “So, where are you a professor at? MIT? Harvard? Suffolk? Berklee?” I asked

            “No, no…Miskatonic.”