[Jake eyes the man as he steps out from the back -- tall, unnaturally pretty, not very expressive. Exactly as Morgan had described to him, and he was willing to bet that this was Oren.
He can't hear what they're talking about, but Jake is keen enough to tell from the glances in his direction that they're discussing him. He shifts in his seat, not out of discomfort, but a nagging impatience that he's trying to keep in check. He raps his fingers against the countertop, waiting. His eyes land on a salt shaker next to him that had fallen on its side. Without thinking, Jake fixes it, setting it upright, an idle action to help funnel his anxiousness through.
He does this, of course, by merely looking at it, then leans back and glances around the cafe like it was nothing; because here, truly, it was just that. Nothing. He can already tell from the customers here that he's just a drop in the odd, supernatural, or otherwise magical bucket. For some unknown reason, this just seems to disquiet him even more.]
no subject
He can't hear what they're talking about, but Jake is keen enough to tell from the glances in his direction that they're discussing him. He shifts in his seat, not out of discomfort, but a nagging impatience that he's trying to keep in check. He raps his fingers against the countertop, waiting. His eyes land on a salt shaker next to him that had fallen on its side. Without thinking, Jake fixes it, setting it upright, an idle action to help funnel his anxiousness through.
He does this, of course, by merely looking at it, then leans back and glances around the cafe like it was nothing; because here, truly, it was just that. Nothing. He can already tell from the customers here that he's just a drop in the odd, supernatural, or otherwise magical bucket. For some unknown reason, this just seems to disquiet him even more.]