Tristan, in the Mocha, Friday [early afternoon] OTA
Tristan had heard about the coffee shop just off the lobby here. He decided to take a gander and check it out for himself. It was hard for him to dress casually, even though he was only twenty six. He pulled on a pair of black jeans, buckled what was called a pyramid stud belt, and a grey shirt, boasting a logo for The White Stripes. Tucking his never taken off necklace under the collar, he made his way downstairs to stand in line.
He fidgeted while he waited. It wasn't impatience. He just didn't like standing in line. He looked around as he shifted his weight slightly from left foot to right foot and back to left foot. Maybe he could get through the afternoon without anybody realizing he was new. Maybe he could get through the weekend without explaining who he was or why he was here. Just maybe.