The Universe's Mixer

Well, this certainly hadn't been how he had planned to spend his morning. The assumed plan had been to stick to his new routine: breakfast alone at the cafe down the street, finishing up the last of his toast on the walk to work, and then a lazy day of reading. With the occasional duties required of the bookstore in between, of course. It was what he was being paid for, after all.

Instead, less than an hour after arriving at work, Errol found himself turning off the store's coffee pot and scribbling out a note that the store would be open as soon as he returned from an errand. It wasn't, he thought as he locked the door, a bad thing. It was a much-delayed opportunity to sightsee and become more familiar with his new home. He had been remiss in that regard, content to stay in the same handful of city blocks since his arrival. And most importantly, it was an opportunity to help someone.

"Well," he said, tucking his keys back into a pocket of his black Cleric's coat, unbuttoned over clothes that no Cleric would have been caught dead in--or more accurately, would be dead in soon after being sighted wearing them. There was still a very large part of Errol that took a happy thrill in such daring items of clothing as jeans and polo shirts. "Shall we be off, then?" He looked expectantly at the girl he had been talking to only minutes earlier.