The stairs have twisted around Who: Jacques & Remy Where: Superstition When: Night
There was a definite lull in business this evening. 'You say evening, I call it about, say... early afternoon. And you got up even later, so you oughta be calling it lunch.' It stood to reason that the night before the full moon might be quieter. Weres with preparations to make, paranoid non-supernaturals falling victim to the idea that the nights before and after the full moon were just as dangerous. People just avoiding people. 'These concerns aren't yours, stop dwelling on them.' Jacques gave his familiar a sidelong glance. He'd been in the kitchen again, terrorising the staff. He knew this because the jaguar made no secret of it, and because he didn't blame any of his employees for giving in to the growled demands of a sizable wild cat.
Cane leaned against one of the tables, Jacques sat with his coffee. Lunch had been a PB&J sandwich, even though he'd gotten strange looks from the kitchen staff, and he was waiting for the next one. His stomach was accusing him of negligence. 'Or you could just make it yourself.'
"Ain't nothin' wrong with givin' your staff somethin' to do," he stated, rolling his dice across the table-top. Well, that half-reading could mean just about anything."