The cafe did as ever, and with her painter back, Absinthe had very little reason to look outside of her own home. They cared little for her, and in turn she cared little for them.
But it was her home. er place of power and safety. She'd felt the Christian almost instantly. They hardly ever came to her door, and rather then be concerned she felt vaguely victorious.
So far, the mighty could fall.
She walked behind the Saint and watched him. Curious that. With a smile she stepped beside him and uncaring about anyone's personal space set an arm around his waist. "Lost,