"Nice place you've got here..."

[The David]

The David stopped outside the cafe for a moment, his meandering obsessive compulsiveness driving him to sway indecisively, like a sapling against a hurricane who might be pulled away in any direction at any moment.

He was caught in a moment of narcissism, which unfortunately gripped him each and every time he passed a remotely reflective surface. Usually, he wore a mask to hide his face so this didn’t happen. It was an item ripped straight out of the movie ‘V for Vendetta‘, and he did enjoy it so. The irony was that the soulless, fastidious glare from those empty eye-sockets and the dimpled smirk so reminded him of his own face. It wasn’t that he was pretty, because he wasn’t. It was just that he had grown to love himself, in the way a woman might grow to love the man she was arranged to marry against her will. He was stuck with his face, his main companion; what choice did he have but to love it?

Finally, breaking through his asexual malaise, he pulled his mask from his coat and slipped it onto his head. Pausing to admire himself for one last, wistful moment, he let out a gleeful titter, shimmied slightly as his madness so compelled, and entered Cafe Damari.

Wasting no time he slinked up to the counter. His walk, you might say, was disjointed; it was like watching a man made of rubber trying to carry a heavy tombstone. His limbs all seemed to have a mind of their own, all seeking erratically to slither off in different directions, each with different ambitions. His left leg seemed determined to limp slightly, while his right leg appeared to be ready to break the high-jump record at any moment. The result was a walk that could have been deemed gangster, but also - and more realistically - was decidedly retarded.

With an muffled, stunted echo against the inside of his mask, he mustered up his best masculine voice and said to the fearsome man at the bar: “I wish to speak to the owner.”

[Kemp]

Kemp had seen a lot in his time in the café maybe not men in masks with dyslexic limbs and uncoordinated appendages but enough that the sight of it didn’t bother him much. He pulled another coffee, straight, African blend. Tar black, almost syrup. Badly made, but that's what the customer wanted. He slammed it onto the counter, yelled for service and reached for the next cup.

He bounced when bouncing was required. And in times like these he had to deal with odd characters that didn’t even look remotely human in front of the smattering of humanity who tried, surreptitiously not to get caught looking when all they wanted to do was stare.

Kemp had no such illusion or inclination. There was no emotion in response to the request, neither censure or annoyance. Just a nod to the right to indicate a place to the side of the counter to wait.

He then slid a look to Ava, waiting until she lifted her head and with a quick upward motion of his head and eyebrows he conveyed his request. He didn’t have telepathy. Heard of it, didn’t feel like getting it and didn’t. So hadn’t. There was nothing he couldn’t say with meaningful glances and if they didn’t work, he didn’t feel it needed to be said.

Since she had then gave an equally knowing look to the male she nodded and slid away.

He wiped the counter.

[Damari]

She’d seen him walk in. She didn’t even need Ava to cross the room, stopping her assistant instead with a look and a nod switching her gaze to the male that had requested her. With the merest wave of her hand she sent the blue haired female back to what she was doing and kept her gaze on the male. The David had come.

She grinned.

Her café was a cosy place, with intimate spaces in an open plan design that boasted nooks of faux privacy granted by discretely placed plantings, tables and couches. Designed in such a way that from her position on a chaise to the back and left

She saw everything.

Placing her lukewarm latte on the table she relaxed back onto the chaise. She wasn’t lounging there with her feet up. She always felt that particular positioning too dishabille for public. Instead her back was wedged comfortably in the corner of the arm and back and her legs were crossed.

She tapped a finger against her lips. Thinking.

Waves of Loro Piana caped fabric draped across one cashmere exposed shoulder to fall in unrestrained abundance to her calves where the plain black tights peeked out and stopped at her ankles, showcasing the Sergio Rossi sandals. The whole monochromatic ensemble was a foil for the shoes, newly bought at Neiman Marcus. With her coffee placed she reclined a little more, one carefully manicured fingertip tapping the overlapping knee, the other elbow resting along the chaise; this fingertip tracing the edge of her lower lip in pensive silence.

She sent him a telepathic message.

I’m here in the back David. Would you like to join me?

The last time she checked David didn’t have any powers. Ordinarily given his mosquito status and his lack of restraint she wouldn’t have given him an iota of attention but she had to admit there was something about him. Something intangible. She was never prone to emotional decisions but this one was pure curiosity. David reminded her of someone. That walk, the savoir faire, the lack of tact and flippancy. If she were honest and she readily knew for the most part self honesty for her was rare, then she’d admit that The David reminded her a lot of Shining Host and that, all things considered had her very curious indeed.

Plus she’d figured eventually she’d have been graced with his presence at some point. Considering what she suspected of his nature she would have been too big an opportunity to resist. Still tracing the edge of her lower lip;

She waited for him to accept her invitation.

[The David]

The David cocked his head to the side at the soundless message of telepathy. It was a curious thing, for a masked face to express emotion, but if anyone could do it, it was he.

Not having telepathy himself, he glanced about the cafe, scanning the cosy nooks until he spotted her. There she was. It could only be Damari, for she was the only one that didn’t seem somewhat perplexed or alarmed by the masked man’s demeanour. She held herself - David decided - as though she had expected him to walk through the door at any moment. Composed, relaxed, and yet dignified, in a manner.

And that was exactly how he enjoyed his sport.

Awkwardly sliding into the nook, as though he was a barbie doll being jammed through a front door far too small, he shuffled about until he got comfortable.

Facing her, his mask rattled, “Interesting thing, telepathy. Always fancied trying it out as a tool to make a person go nuts. You know, like making them hear ‘voices’ and stuff.” He made waving motions either side of his shaking head, to emphasize the madness of which he spoke.

Slipping his hands onto the tasteful table before him, he fumbled about with various conglomerate objects as he sat in silence for a moment. He stole a sugar packet from amidst the static things and tore it open, spilling sweet crystals in nonsensical patters as though doing so was something ordained at a subconscious level. All the while the dark slits of his mask scanned the room around them.

Finally he took a deep breath and said, “Nice place you’ve got here, Damari. A little ... passe ... perhaps, but nice. Would be a shame if anything happened to a nice place like this wouldn’t it? Some group of punks comes in and messes it all up for you, smashing tables and assaulting customers. Well now, that wouldn’t be ideal would it?” He leaned back and spread his hands, “I mean, supposin’ you get a gang of idiots in here who use the place to sell drugs? Or ... black blood? Would be a shame to see it go downhill, what with this place being my new regular hangout and all.”

His left hand, still spread, dropped the empty sugar container, and his fingers rubbed against his palm like a magician who had just caused a ball to disappear.

[Damari]

This smile slipped like an oil slick across her face, onyx black with the subconscious hint of danger. It was a subtle change, something a little more alert and watchful but there as if something expected was confirmed but there was still amusement, still that curiosity.

Purely Damari when you get down to it. Watchful and patient with that potential for explosive reaction you were never quite prepared for.

“Aaaaahh so we are to discuss extortion.”

The tone wasn’t surprised but hinted at her curiosity, as if they were discussing the potential of the el Nina affect giving the nights a more decidedly warm tone instead of the potential for her funds to be squeezed like a lemon and juiced from the profits of her business overheads. But that was purely Damari too since this seemed more entertaining than a host of other ventures to come across her desk lately.

“I’ve been watching you in the papers. Mostly because you’re making so much damned noise it’s hard to miss the racket you’re making.”

Pausing she grins, remembering the current escapade of this little band of misfits “How goes taking over The Palazzo? It’s been a while since I’ve been there. The few times I’ve passed that way I’ve picked my Iris but it keeps growing back. There’s irony there I think, although, I’m hard pressed to acknowledge it.”

“So who has been defended the final resting place of my famous ex-squeeze these days? He always did engender the most voracious groupies. Mostly star struck females. It’s really quite impressive.”

Was she skirting the underlying threat of his statement? Maybe. Mostly her curiosity wanted to pick his brain a little. For a little nobody he was making great efforts to be known and succeeding. It always amused Damari the lengths the new blood of this city would go to gain heights of infamy. Many had tried different avenues to get it and all of it seemed to entail doing something publicly outlandish. Like this lot.

“I would have thought your next target would have been ophelia’s retirement village brood or are you afraid they’d give your lot the slap down you’re so asking for and deserve?”

“Given that I’m amused by your group’s antics I feel quite magnanimous. If you feel you must cause a ruckus in my café I would not be impressed in the slightest and would further feel quite annoyed. But if you wish, feel free to use this place as your base of operations. I feel little inclination to stop you and would enjoy the diversion of having your rather dubious lot mill about for me to watch.”

Feigning innocence she makes doe eyes at the male, arching her eyebrow at the end of the moue.

“Ohh I’m sorry, did you wish to blackmail me first? Silly of me to jump the gun in such a fashion. If you wish I will revoke the invitation so you may attempt to hold my café ransom. Would you prefer to go about the extortion that way?”

[The David]

After attempting to listen to all the many, many (many) things the cafe owner had to say, The David woke up.

“Oh I’m sorry, I dozed off there for a moment. I’m usually able to get a word in edge-ways, but you, my dear, have bested me today in this regard.”

The tall masked figure stood up and withdrew a step from the nook, brushing off the scattered sugar crystals from his tattooed arms and the body of his plain red t-shirt.

“I see I am unlikely to get a penny out of you, much less the 100,000 coins per week I was going to ask for. Very well, I trust it wont be too long before one vicious gang or another comes making a mess of this place,” he bowed like the caricature of a mock-gentleman and said, “and thank you for the tip on Ophelia; I shall have to press that one and see what happens.”

With an exaggerated twirl and a rather camp wave of his arms (as if to emphasise his departure somehow) he exeunted stage right and slipped away through the cafe.

[Damari]

Damari leaned forward, picked up her soy latte and lifted it to her lips. Her gaze followed the male as he left, the smile small.

"I take it there will be no extortion then?"

And then she drank, trading coffee for a newspaper, turning the page to read.

"Pity."