Café e Paciência • Open

[Jatta]

A girl, about seventeen years old with black hair, metallic blue eyes, and two rings in her right eyebrow and studs up her left ear, walked the streets of New York. Her red blouse that hugged her body around her abdomen, or stomach area in other terms, with extremely loose, off-the-shoulder long sleeves and low-cut neck line matched perfectly with her black capris that were relatively loose everywhere but at the waist and the leg openings. On her feet were silver gladiator sandals that was embedded with real gold and rubies. Her hair was left down, and her makeup was done perfectly. Her mascara make her eyelashes look as lush as false eyelashes, her eyeliner was heavy(and it complimented her look instead of ruining it) and wore red smoky eyeshadow and lipstick. Clearly, she was any man's desire.

Wrapped around Jatta's shoulder and neck base, for Jatta was her name, was a Miacis Cognitus: an extinct carnivoramorpha that was supposed to have gone extinct during the Oligocene period. That was what it seemed, though. The creature, actually a dæmon that went by the name of Balthazar, was a creature capable of Shapeshifting. It had no natural form, and cannot be bred, therefor making him one of the last of the dæmons in the entire world. 

Jatta's eyes flickered from person to person as she walked. Her icy eyes couldn't be seen behind her unmentioned, silver aviator's sunglasses, therefor unnecessary eye contact was avoided. A man bumped shoulders with her while they were walking, and Jatta politely said "Sinto muito!" which is properly translated into "I'm sorry!" from Portuguese to English. It was his first language: definately. He was from Brazil: it was probable. Obviously, the man gave her a good looking over. From the front and the back. Jatta noticed, but did nothing. Clearly, just because she could easily kick any God's butt right back up to Olympus didn't mean she couldn't enjoy attention, being a daughter of Aphrodite and all.

Jatta was headed to a small Italian cafe downtown. Why she didn't drive, who knows? It's not like she didn't love having her exclusive chrome-silver Porsche 918 Spyder Supercar, but she needed to keep her figure. The last thing she needed was to get some love-handles.

She arrived at the cafe, which was appropriately named O Café Italiano, and Jatta pushed open the glass doors. Inside, the cafe smelled of Italian spices, coffee, and tarts. She tried to go easy, but the divine smells took her away. She ordered Um Caffè Corretto, an Espresso with a shot of brandy - for it was still the early morning - and found herself a table to sit at. She was here because she was supposed to meet someone. She knew not who, but she had decided to come anyway. After all, New York was always a nice place to visit. It brought back... memories.