[ Clyteus is thinking very longingly of his pretentiously doctored Americano that he's ready to thoroughly enjoy sipping on his way to the bank when he steps into the Flatiron Bux shop. He doesn't spare more than a passing glance at the clientele as he checks his e-mail on his iPhone. The poor mermaid might have escaped his notice all together with the amount of focus involved in the steam rising up his throat from the anger. If they were really going to try and tell him that his meeting was going to be rescheduled with the Russian investors again--
But the tiny store's one guest bathroom door swung open with just the right amount of force to push the scent of sea salt over the atmospheric coffee aroma that would probably permeate this building long after the Seattle company packed up shop. His gold-flecked brown eyes narrowed as he tensed up and with his phone still in typing position looked toward the bathroom door. They skim over the heads looking for the source...
Clay's nostrils flare as he steps out of line and beelines for the little table and scrapes out one of the little wooden chairs and sits across from her, waiting for an in vain for an apology. ]
no subject
But the tiny store's one guest bathroom door swung open with just the right amount of force to push the scent of sea salt over the atmospheric coffee aroma that would probably permeate this building long after the Seattle company packed up shop. His gold-flecked brown eyes narrowed as he tensed up and with his phone still in typing position looked toward the bathroom door. They skim over the heads looking for the source...
Clay's nostrils flare as he steps out of line and beelines for the little table and scrapes out one of the little wooden chairs and sits across from her, waiting for an
in vainfor an apology. ]