It was...atypical for the seat in a cafe to be claimed, especially one very particular seat. There were, of course, regulars at any small business who often crafted a niche of their own in the establishment. They, she noticed, tended to be rather protective of their little slices of heaven and yet he was hardly a seventy-year-old man with a cane to fit such a distinct profile. Oh no, he hardly looked much older than her, even if the depths of his peculiar colored eyes seemed to suggest he was jaded by a lifetime of experiences she couldn't fathom. If only he knew. Still, this was most certainly a public location, and she, as a lady, surely had rights to the armchair before being cast out by a man. The inquiry upon her gingerly glossed lips seemed to hold some level of minute disbelief as the dark jade hue of her gaze turned down to critically eye the chair that so comfortably enveloped her. He - this strange man with near stark white hair - seemed to regard her with an even more intense muteness, one broken with a singular word. That air of confidence, however, seemed so poignant around him that, for a moment, Emerance couldn't help but consider the possibility of maybe he owned the cafe. It would certainly make this chair his...along with every other seat, sofa, lounge, and armchair in the immediate vicinity.

Her very question seemed to bring a curious look to his features. It was as if he suddenly regarded her in a new light before casting a glance back towards the cashier that had prompted such a catastrophe in the first place. It was that very glance towards the stoic cashier that prompted a level of...helpfulness within the young woman. Her observation of the fight she had witnessed both a comment and...purposefully explanative of the spilled beverages and shattered china. Emerance hardly expected the ghost of a simper that fluttered over his once stoic features. How...different he seemed when he smiled, even if it was just for a moment. How many years he seemed to shed away, that certain hint of boyishness almost shining through for a brief moment. Emerance could hardly help returning that weak smile with a warm one of her own as if the gesture might somehow provoke more of what she could only assume was a rare gesture. Still, her thoughts were dragged back to the conversation at hand as he inquired her thoughts upon his waitstaff. Temperamental was...one way to describe the barista at the counter and yet...Emerance knew men who were the very personification of 'temperamental'. He was not one of them. Her head shook ever so slightly, her brunette locks shaking in the process.

Emerance's answer, however, was hardly given a chance to leave her lips before the pecularity of his actions stunned the girl to silence. Stealthily, the man slipped a singular sugar cube within his mouth. It was as if he was a child stealing so covertly from the cookie jar under the guise of being sociable. How...very unlike the owner of an establishment such an action was! Surely, he didn't think she hadn't noticed? Her gaze drifted down to the sugar jar upon her table, her slender fingers reached down to grab the jar, only to thrust it upwards towards him like a present. Her offer, however, was hardly accepted quite as she expected - the jar grabbed from her hands as he scolded her, only to settle in the seat across from her with sugar jar in his lap. The jade hue of Emerance's gaze trailed after his own as the man glanced cautiously towards the barista, somehow fearing the fellow's retaliation. Was he truly that scary? Her lips pursed together in consideration, fluttering back towards the man in front of her as he offered her some vague excuse. "Is he? So why don't you fire him?" She inquired, her head tilting to the side. What a...contentious relationship they seemed to have between employee and employer. If she had believed that was truly his role in this cafe, that alone might have coaxed the first sliver of doubt.

How quick he seemed to change the topic, deviating away from sugar and his employee to instead comment upon how...new she was to this cafe. Clearly, regardless of who he was, he frequented the establishment enough to know the regulars. "I am," She admitted, "My brother and I used to go to Milstead's down on 34th but....I thought I could use a change of pace. It is nice...the tea is great. Well...it was great." Emerance turned with a hint of remorse towards the floor and the place her teacup had fallen, the mug already taken away by the barista attempting to clean the mess on the floor. "Is it always this busy? Or....is there a better time to visit?" She inquired, choosing not to linger too long upon spilled milk...or in this case...tea.