Hunter hadn't noticed yet that Morgan really looked a mess. She was covered in little bits of ash and had a sooty face, and upon realizing it, Hunter suddenly felt uncomfortable standing out in the streets with her. Neither of them were at ease out in the open, despite Hunter's attempt to make the situation lighter. Making a split second decision, he turned around gracefully and motioned for Morgan to join him. "It has been a long day for you," he said, all business. "I know of a small cafe that's open nearly twenty-four hours. We can go there and discuss this further." He started off out of down the street, recognizing a few of the shops from when he had been inquiring about magick stores and stopped quickly, approaching a worn door. It wasn't the most ornate of coffee shops, it had two levels. The basement had been renovated so people could go down to it and talk in a more quiet atmosphere. He bypassed the counter, hoping Morgan was following and headed down to the second floor.
As he sat down in a worn couch that looked as if it had spent three years sitting out on the side of the road, he shook his head defensively. "I wasn't there. I haven't been around, and I don't remember anything like what you've said happening." His experience in Widow's Vale had been short lived, and about a few days after he had gotten there he had quickly disappeared off to Los Angeles. It wasn't of his own accord, either. He couldn't explain to Morgan why she had seen him every day up until now, and why he was there at all.
Hunter shifted in his seat uneasily. He felt her eyes on him, felt her shock. The shock of the situation had carried itself out of the streets and straight into the quaint, avant-garde cafe. He shook his head grimly, his hands pressed firmly on his knees to stop himself from running his hands over his face in exasperation. Hunter nodded slowly. That must be it. "Yes, maybe. There's just something seriously wrong with the sun being gone. I don't know what has happened, here but doesn't it feel like..?" Hunter said in a low voice, he couldn't bear to finish of that sentence. She would pick up on what he meant, he knew that much. She was a smart girl. Naive, but smart. She had to have been thinking of the same thing as he.