Up close, it was even more obvious that something was a little off about Raven. The ears that poked up through her hair were slightly pointed, and her eyes - which from a distance could pass for an odd brown - were actually a muddy red. She made no effort to hide either from the stranger, although she did give a little start when Crowley addressed her.
Raven put down her sandwich. "Uh." She began, mostly to fill the silence as she rummaged around in her bag for her City-given phone. "Sorry." Out came a book (Mary Shelley's Frankenstein), a small steno pad (labelled 'British Literature' in neat, girly handwriting), and eventually the mobile. "Okay, there. It's twelve-thirty."
Once she'd answered the question, Raven sat half-expectantly and watched the stranger. He'd probably be on his way, she assumed, but she didn't want to stuff the phone back into her bag until she was sure he wouldn't need anything else.