"At least we aren't Detroit?"

[Morgan] Welcome to (fairly) early Sunday morning. The mile is quiet, yet - people are at church, or reveling in sleeping in, or having breakfast, or . . . any number of things, really. That is, most people. Some are out and about, procuring coffee or tea, bagels, donuts, that sort of thing - but the vast majority of the shops aren't open yet, which is fine by a certain young red-head, who is reaching the tail end of her run. It's a slowed down thing, now, casual, more cool down than anything else; her hair is still in its ponytail, and of course she's wearing running clothes (short, tight black shorts and one of those athletic bra/tank top things in a cheerful powder blue).

Of course for the most part, other than her mentor's apartment, Morgan avoids the Mile these days - it's a sad thing for a girl who was born and raised in the Gold Coast, who roamed the Mile with her friends from the time they were old enough to grab a cab or walk over. Now, it's sort of like the angsty return of the prodigal daughter, except she won't be staying long; who knows who she'll run into? She could handle meeting someone she knew Before and lying about who she is, but . . .

Well. Things are complicated.

Finally, steps slow to a walk and she reaches a likely bench to use for balance as she stretches, focusing on her breathing - that this bench just happens to be in front of her favorite cafe is pure coincidence, surely. Regardless, there are any number of ways that one could catch sight, and she's a friendly enough sort - there are smiles and polite (if somewhat haughty) hellos for anyone who happens to catch her eye.

[Alex] Morning, Alex was never a morning person before his awakening. He was the type to have to set his alarm half an hour early so he could hit snooze a few dozen times before he would finally get out of bed. Things were different now, mornings weren't what they used to be that was certain. Despite the fact that these days he was often only just getting home at this hour, he also relished the quiet of a sunday morning.

An grin crept over his face as he walked along the mile, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. The mile, he had actually called it that in his head. He hadn't been in chicago longer than a month and he was already calling it the mile. Was that a good thing? He wasn't really sure where he was going but it seemed to be about coffee-oclock by his watch so he kept on moving, past the closed stores and restaurants until at last he found something promising. He gave himself a quick glance over in a shop window as he walked towards the open cafe, his hair rough and unkempt as always. He noticed a slight hole appearing in the knee of his charcoal jeans, in his previous life that would of bothered him but now he found it comforting almost - like he wasn't the only thing around here that wasn't polished to a shine.

There were very few people, a few people grabbing drinks and things to nibble on. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted what looked to be a runner taking a break. He perhaps looked longer than he should of but that was one of the downsides of being completely at odds with the rest of society. He turned his back to her and made his way into the cafe.

[Morgan] Morgan is not, in fact, unaccustomed to being looked at - the feeling of eyes on her is a fairly familiar thing, even if she is generally giving pep talks or the like when she's being watched for more than a moment or two. She's a good girl, or has that look; she's never shoplifted more than a pack of gum (and that only on a dare), never cheated on homework or a test, completed all her required volunteer hours and then some, and so on.

Except for the part where she's not nearly as good as she seems, and an intensity simmers under that good girl shell, not quite hidden - there's intelligence in her eyes, and pride in her posture.

It's just a few minutes of stretching, really - long enough for Alex to get within two or three people of the register, and long enough for him to realize he's at the tail end of a rush - before she goes in, all pretty-girl smiles. It's a good day, it seems, at least on the surface.

"Hi," she says as she gets in line behind Alex. "Nice morning."

[Alex] He had timed his arrival at the cafe rather well, not too long of a que and plenty of people were already leaving, meaning there was ample spare tables. He hadn't quite reached the counter yet when the voice behind him reached his ears. A nice voice for sure. There were enough people about to suggest the introduction wasn't aimed at him but something told him otherwise. He half turned and caught the eye of the red headed runner he had seen outside. "Hi there. You know what? I agree. It is a nice morning." He grinned at her before quickly checking his place in the que. When he turned back to look at her he made sure this time he got a proper look.

She was certainly pretty, but looks can be deceiving. There was mischief in her eyes. "I thought you were supposed to have coffee before exercise?" He raised an eyebrow at her, still with the grin on his face. Something didn't seem right about this situation at all. He wondered for a moment if she was about to ask him why he was staring at her before but he kept his thoughts to himself.

[Morgan] "I'm not having coffee, I'm having tea. And a scone, I think," she says, pronouncing 'scone' the proper way despite her very American (Chicago, to be exact) accent. "And nonsense. If you have coffee before a run, your heart rate is already elevated, as is your blood pressure if only slightly, and it can cause trouble if you aren't careful. I have water and maybe a yogurt or some fruit before I work out."

There's a grin, then, and a look out at the rapidly darkening sky; she'd known there were storms projected, but had decided to risk it anyway. Running in the rain can be nice, though lightning is a different beast all together.

"I suppose I'll get mine for here," she says ruefully as they move closer to the counter - Alex's turn, now, "and hope I don't stink too bad. Unless the storm holds off, which would be great."

There's quiet to let him order what he wants, then, and her own order given - an earl grey latte and a cinnamon scone, please and thank you - before she grins. "You the exercising type? Don't much look it."

[Alex] He couldn't help but smile as he was lectured on the finer details of physical exercise. Everything she said made perfect sense however and he gave her the point for that one. He was about to retort but it was his turn to order so he asked for his usual "student coffee" black. No sugar. No milk. He called it a student coffee because when he was studying there was never any sugar and the milk was usually off.

He found himself replying to her as he moved towards a table. "You're right you know... about the coffee and exercise thing. I knew a few guys who used to drink it before doing weights for the added concentration. And no I guess im not much the exercising type..." he pauses thinking for a moment. "It would probably sound horribly metro and self-centred if I said I don't really have the time." He grinned.

He took a seat at the table and looked up at her. "You're welcome to join me if you want, you don't smell that bad. Besides, by the look of the weather I don't think you will be getting much more of that exercise thing done."

[Morgan] "Oh, I'm done with my actual run - thirteen miles, plus a bit. But there's the matter of getting home, or to a friend's house," she says with a shrug. "They're both close enough, but getting drenched wasn't exactly in the plan. So, thanks for the invitation."

The finish comes with a smile as she takes the offered seat, and extends a hand over the table. "I'm Morgan. It's a pleasure to meet you - and, if you can, you should make time for exercise of some sort. It has all sorts of benefits, really. Endorphins, general fitness, focus . . . it can be almost meditative, really."

Oh, yes - pretty, with a bit of the devil in her eyes - and distant, for all that popular girl friendliness. She's not the sort who was popular because of intimidating people, but because of this; because she's good at talking to people, and thinks before she speaks, and is a genuinely nice person. It's tinged now with a hint of arrogance - a defense mechanism, perhaps - but still . . . yes. She's pleasant to be around, in her way.

[Alex] He raises an eyebrow at the distance of her run. Thirteen miles? Really? Ridiculous. He was fit enough, he had to be doing what he did on his evenings but he really didn't like the idea of exercise as a pass time. The extended hand took him slightly be surprise, she certainly was a charismatic sort wasn't she. He took the offered hand and squeezed it lightly, holding it for a moment. Warm, soft. Clean hands. His hands were anything but clean. Oh not dirty in the physical sense but he had done things with his hands that he could never wash off. And he would do them again.

The thought made him release her hand rather suddenly and he returned it to his jacket pocket. "I'm Alex, 13 mile run? Oh just a casual sunday stroll I see." He laughed a little and grinned at her. "All jokes aside, perhaps you are right. Maybe I should spend a little more time looking after my body." Just then a waitress came by, placing their drinks and her cinnamon scone on the table. Alex nodded and said a polite thanks before taking a sip of the black liquid and peering over his cup at Morgan.

"So, what do you do morgan? Besides ridiculously long runs."

[Morgan] "I'm training for a half marathon," she says with a smirk. "Just wait until I start in on the real thing. And I'm a student, or will be in September. Right now, I'm an intern in an investigative firm - it doesn't pay much, but it's a good learning experience." She shrugs, and blows across her tea latte before sipping, and breaks the scone in half to offer him some. (Her hands are not so clean either, though it's not them that she's used to do the bad things. Shh, she's not telling.)

For all that she's sweaty and wearing running clothes, this girl fits in here in a way that only those raised in it do; she's comfortable with the fine stores, and her clothes and shoes are branded (Adidas, if anyone's looking), high quality.

"I also read up on case studies and precedents, follow the news, occasionally sit in on open trials and similarly geeky things. I'm going pre-law, you see."

[Alex] He relaxed slightly as she spoke, she seemed so normal. He couldn't remember the last time he had had a conversation with a normal person. He accepts the offered scone and nibbles on the corner of the piece as he listens to her talk. His interest genuinely perks up as she begins to explain about her law affiliation. "Sounds like you keep yourself occupied. And here I was thinking I didn't have the time to be running like you. So you keep an eye on all the local cases then too I take it? Hard town chicago. I havn't been here long but its certainly a busy little city when it comes to crime from what I've seen."

He regrets saying it as the words leave his mouth. Far too obvious. He was new to this whole game and since his mentor left him he had nobody to share his burden with. Not that he should share it. That was just the old part of him pretending it still had a say in anything. Sip. Sip. Gulp. The coffee was gone and now the cup was just cold and empty. He puts the cup down and toys with the last remnants of scone she had given him.

He wondered just what the fuck he was doing here. But there she was, all smiles and politeness.

[Morgan] "She's not so little, Chicago, not really. Not as big as New York or LA or DC, obviously, but still a big city - and she is busy, as big cities tend to be." She shrugs, sips her own tea - which is about two thirds gone, and cooling fast - before taking a bite of her half-scone, now also almost gone. And this? It's not obvious at all, really, though it does lead to questions.

"Are you with the police, then? Where'd you transfer from?"

She's curious, and has told him a fair amount about herself in the small talk, things that don't matter all that much sort of way; it's a good way to have breakfast, chatting with a handsome young man (or, in Alex's case, a pretty young lady). That intensity that had been noticed and likely forgotten outside is heavier now, under her gaze, but it's not a bad thing - Morgan studies, and learns, and weighs. It's what she does.

[Alex] He ponders her statements a moment, watching her eat and finish her tea. The question is a delicate one, he really didn't want to be telling anyone about who he had worked for in DC, that could lead to some very messy situations if the information got into the wrong hands. Then again, its not like anybody would believe the truth. "Uh.. DC" He almost goes ahead with the 'I was a secret agent' line but decides that would definitely not be wise.

"Born and raised in New York, I worked in DC for a year before I was transferred here."

He never was a very good liar so he found it best to keep the lies tied close to truth. It felt more natural that way. He smiles at her and suddenly leans placing his elbow on the table with his chin in his hand. "I'm going to take a walk before the rain kicks in, rain doesn't agree with me too much." He stands, taking a few notes out of his wallet and tossing them on the table for the waitress.

"You're welcome to come if you like Morgan." He says earnestly to her before opening the door to the cafe and stepping outside. The clouds were darkening, looming over the city.

[Morgan] "May as well. See if I can get to Ashley's, at least, before it decides to dump." She grins, polishes off her tea, lays down her own tip, gathers up the rest of her scone, and heads out with him - it's nice to have someone to talk to, really. Someone who seems normal, and close-ish to her age, is an anomaly in this new life that isn't so new any more.

There's walking in quiet companionship for awhile, and it seems she might not say anything. Then, though, it comes. "I was born here, and have lived here forever. I've been other places, but only on vacation and service trips and that sort of thing."

She was certainly no secret agent, and it's unlikely she's out of her teens though in some lights, in some moods, perhaps she could pass for twenty; long and willowy, she's nearly as tall as he is, and once her scone is finished, her ponytail holder is pulled out so that she can shake her hair free and replace it, pulling fly aways back into proper behavior.

"How long have you been here?"

[Alex] He didnt know who ashley was but he assumed she would tell him if she wanted him to know. He watches her do her hair on the go and smiles to himself. It's strange how the slightest womanly acts can make a guy smile. Then he remembers the smile of a certain man his mentor had broken him in on and grimaces.

"Oh so you're a native chicagoian are you? Is that even what you call yourselves or did I just make it up? What about chicagonite?" he smirks and lowers his gaze to the ground before lifting an eye at her question.

"Three weeks, so its all still very foreign to me. It's strange. In some ways its just a city like any city. They have things in common, sometimes you can almost forget you are in a new place till that one little distinct difference smacks you in the face and you realise it aint home. Not yet anyway."

He glances up at the sky, he was surprised it hadn't started raining yet. The clouds looked heavily depressed.

"How do you feel about still living here? Studying here? Ever want to just break out and leave?"

[Morgan] There's a laugh at the play on what the proper verbiage might be for 'someone native to Chicago', and she shrugs. "Chicagoan, I think, though it doesn't particularly matter. And you'll get used to it quickly enough - we're a friendly city, all told, for the midwest. At least we aren't Detroit?"

She shrugs, and just as Alex is looking up, there's distant lightning followed by equally distant thunder, and a bit of spitting rain though nothing heavy just yet.

Then there's a smile, and the other answered. "I don't know - I like living here, but I don't really have much basis for comparison. The longest I've ever been anywhere else was two months in China not too long ago." Which gets a darkening of expression for a long moment, and quiet looking away before she continues.

"I don't think week long ski trips and the like much count."