we built this city on broken glass

That café had become a second home of sorts for the white-haired man. With his pack taken care off for the evening and attending to their business the Alpha found himself with that hour or so of free time before he needed to meet Malia to go over those plans for her new role within the pack. His only other pressing issue for the day that training session with Alexander later tonight. That walk to the café was hardly a long one, Frost pressing upon that door to swing it gently open, that little bell ringing as he did. Several of those staff members looking upward only to hurriedly look away and attempt to make themselves otherwise scarce. A handful of those more regular patrons of the Inner Sanctum content to do much the same. The faintest hint of a simper touched the young man's features upon that otherwise near emotionless façade as he strode forward. Those strange violet coloured eyes- hidden beneath that white hair that so constantly hung over them- easily roved over that store in search of those very treats he had taken to pilfering so constantly the staff had all but giving up hiding them. The Baker himself the only man (outside Alexander) willing to attempt to scold the stallion or withhold them from him and yet Frost could hear the man's heart hammering every time he faced him. He could smell that fear on him. A part of that war horse near feeding on that terror that exuded from every pore until that Baker inevitably gave in and afforded the man exactly what he wanted. Just like the rest of those staff. Horses near masterful in their ability to exploit the fears of others- when allowed too. Frost yet to pay for even a single drink or meal he'd ever had and yet with Alexander as that café's owner he saw little need not to leech off his rider a little. Not that many knew of their relationship to begin with. Frost finally having gotten that little café running just the way he liked and with little need to work for it at all. Alex seemingly content to let him provided he didn't cause too much damage.

His hands tucked easily into the pockets of his black jeans, Frost wandering forward and directly to the front of that line then, his elbows resting on the counter as he perused those cakes idly, his foot taping against the ground as he did. Where were those cupcakes he liked? A number of those customers lined up afforded him dark looks and yet they hardly dared to say anything. The stallion's fingers drumming on that counter before the sight of that baker stepping out of the kitchen drew his gaze upward. The Baker spying him in near the same moment and hurriedly trying to go back in.

"Oh, Jeremy."

Get out of it, Frost. You're not getting any! Those words were snapped roughly in his direction. Frost merely allowing one eye to arch upwards somewhere beneath that wealth of hair, that smile seeming oddly out of place on his lips as he continued to eye the man. Why must he prove difficult every time? That young woman serving had paused in turn as if to watch the spectacle, a few of those customers watching with intrigue as well as the Baker so abruptly begun to sweat far more than any human should. Frosts gaze resting entirely on the man as he wrecked silent havoc with Jeremy's very body itself. That heat rolling off him in waves before the man abruptly cursed and slammed that tray of cupcakes down in front of the Werehorse. Fine. Fine! Just stop it! I'm going to tell- It took no more than a single step towards the man to see him hurriedly step back in turn. That subtle display of dominance understood even by humankind. The Baker knowing he was beaten as he turned to storm back into that kitchen, fanning himself with his hat as Frost plucked several of those carrot cupcakes from the tray. No one making any effort to tell him to wait his turn or pay.

He wandered easily back past that line then. Frost seeking out his usual table in the back of that cosy café so adorned with those trinkets and oddities Alexander had collected in his terribly long life. The stallion having examined most of them at one stage or another and yet here and now he paid them no attention at all. The man flopping onto that seat of his favoured booth to lounge across that seat- biting into the first of those cupcakes. That taste of carrot and cream cheese and molasses entirely satisfying to him. The rest of that cupcake finished a moment later as the man contemplated starting the second. Those staff seeming to relax now that the stallion had lost interest in them. Frost pausing to eye that coffee cup that someone had placed on his table. The scent of alcohol evident to his distinctly superior ability to smell. Hmm. Someone was fun. That mug was pushed to the far side of the table all the same for those waitresses to pick up and get out of his way. The stallion glancing up only at the sight of a vampire woman suddenly standing there. His lip quirking slightly and yet his features remained near expressionless all the same. Frost so eternally appearing devoid of any real emotion in any sense. Those words as cold and apathetic as his name itself.

"Do you need something, Blóð sogskál?"

Those accented words rolled effortlessly from his tongue in his own native language, the stallion making little effort to translate, a singular violet eye watching her curiously now. Surely she knew this was his seat, right?

FrosT