There was a permeating aura of silence that befell upon the small cozy cafe, plunging it into the epitome of sanctuary that it had become for the elder Dark Hunter. He remained nestled in a leather arm chair, a steaming mug of tea balanced on the arm of his chair. His gaze was briefly glancing over a book nestled into his lap, the letters printed upon those pages were foreign in nature, the book was clearly of an older century long past like so many trinkets and bobbles that filled the niches and crannies of his store. The autumn breeze gently wafted through an open window and into the cafe, bringing the scent of freshly roasted coffee beans out into the street. It was thanks to this open window that a familiar sound entered his ears, one that surely didn't belong upon these modern streets. Alexander's blue-green gaze slowly raised, his eyebrows crinkling together in an almost inquisitive frustration. Cautiously, he closed the book, mentally noting the page number lining the top of the page. He gingerly placed his book and cup rest upon the small coffee table in front of him, gathering himself together as he slowly drifting to the front of the store. His gaze peeled out the frosted glass windows, leaning casually against the door frame, his arms crossing over his chest. He hardly had to search long before the small group came into his view, the sound of shoed hooves upon the cobble stone having momentarily capture the entirety of his attention.

Horses were one of the few animals that Alexander took a particular amount of interest in. In truth, it had been a long time since he had been on the spine of another magnificent animal. For a century they had been the primary method of transportation and he had enjoyed every minute upon the back of species. Ever since the invention of cars, however, there had been far less acceptance of their kind on the streets till they had been pushed aside all together, bound to race tracks and fields. It was rather depressing, as far as Alexander was concerned and it was perhaps his efforts at detach himself from the hunting lifestyle that had seen him give up on this passion as well. Never the less, Alexander could hardly help himself as his gaze swept over the two stallions before him, followed quite slowly by a third that seemed equally as nonchalant as Alexander himself was. It brought a soft laugh to his lips as he continued to eye the creature, admiring his pristine coat and long flowing locks. Even from this distance, the Macedonian man could see that he was quite the powerful beast, his shrews beneath that ivory pelt were rippling with every movement, his spirit was as fiery as ever. It reminded him ever so vaguely of the way Bucephalus had been when Alexander had first set eyes upon his ebony frame. Slowly, a small simper cross his lips at the lingering memory, distracting the man from the sights before him.

It was that recollection that drew Alexander in with it's sweet embrace and before he knew it, the group before his coffee house had disbanded entirely, leaving the streets empty and himself alone again with his book, tea, and a very long past...or so he had thought. It was the sharp clatter of a dish that drew his attention inwards and into the coffee house. A grin danced across his usually stoic features, his gaze falling upon the ivory stallion he'd been enviously watching earlier with his head half poked through the window, lipping at the decedent squares of sugar. Slowly, the Dark Hunter shook his head, drifting towards the kitchenette to pluck an apple from it's depths. "If you eat too much of that, you'll loose your figure." He muttered with a jest upon his lips, his peculiarly friendly attitude was reserved entirely for the animals of the world - lost upon even his own patrons. He reached out, plucking several of the knocked over sugar cubs up and placing them back within the jar from which they had been toppled in, leaving just two for the unexpected visitor to nibble upon. "Here." He commented, reaching out and letting the apple rest within his open palm. If there were anything that Alexander had learned in the years of his life, it was how to deal with horses. It was an art he had perfected in his younger years and now he rather missed the company they provided him - enough so that the usually astute man missed the distinct scent of were.