Felicity awoke in an outwardly still and silent manner, to a deafening headache and a moment of dangerous nausea for reasons she did not care to look into right then, though she showed no signs of the turmoil. She also had a papercut from her book being whisked from her unresisting fingers, of unknown depth but clean enough that it barely stung and didn't bleed. Next to her raging skull and mutinous stomach, Felicity hardly noticed it.

For several moments she glared at him, her gaze lopsided as she had yet to pull her aching head away from the glass. He said something, but Felicity deliberately let it slip through her ears and out again without registering what it had been, lest she find and seize an excuse to strike him. For reasons she again wished not to acknowledge at the moment, beating the other Were was not in her best interest at that point in time. Instead of growing irritated at his presence, in order for her sanity to remain, during those painful moments Felicity breathed in the scent that had become familiar to her via the shirt and convinced herself to find the same comfort in it that she had in their first meeting.

It took some time, but it worked. She focused on the sugar cube as it made its way from the table to Frost's lips and her nausea slowly ebbed, leaving the headache as her main tormentor as she slowly pulled herself away from the window. She glanced at her book in his hands, deciding to accept his next words and even spare them a brief thought before she tucked them away for later. Then she cocked her head at him, the only response to his interactions she cared to offer. She was not interested in small talk; her mind was unwilling to be pulled away from the backpack between her shoes (also stolen) so easily. She was impatient to get down to business.

Her eyes never leaving the equine despite the table separating them, Felicity reached between her knees to her backpack and dug for a few seconds before pulling up the shirt and the Moleskine notebook. She straightened again and set them on the table in front of her, pushing the coffee aside. For a moment the two objects sat within reach, available to be easily snatched away without resistance, but the moment was quickly over again when Felicity crossed her arms over garment and notebook and hugged them toward her.

"I have presents for you," she announced, making no move to give them up again. "However, one of them is a discussion I find inappropriate for this particular location. I trust you know of safe areas, or at least of the most unsafe areas, so I'm open to suggestions for where we can talk." She leaned back, opening her arms again and pushing the shirt toward him with her left hand while keeping the notebook grasped in her right. "This one you can have, though," she said. "It probably smells awesome, so I'd suggest you do a load of laundry whenever you get home. I think you'll be glad to know I managed not to get blood on it." She reached for The Sight and tucked it back in her backpack along with the notebook, then stood and hung the strap from her right shoulder.

She pushed through the cafe doors after navigating the maze of small, mismatched tables and their accompanying small, mismatched chairs. Her head was still splitting, and the nausea was returning, but neither had the strength they had had when she first flicked open her eyes. She walked to the curb and stepped down before lowering the rest of her still-skinny body to the sidewalk. A pack of cigarettes appeared in her hand from her back pocket before they were sat upon, along with a lighter, and as Felicity waited for her equine companion to exit the Inner Sanctum and join her, she stuck a light in her mouth and clicked the Bic until the flame struggled long enough to produce a slender trickle of smoke. She puffed a few times, then took an actual drag and let the stinging smoke spill out of her nostrils.

The headache began to retreat. Felicity drew another cigarette from the carton and held it next to her ear. "Want one?" she asked, assuming Frost was probably standing behind her at this point. "We can leave whenever you're ready."

Felicity Crow

I'm rusted from the rain