Time

    ”Time.”

              [ There is a ghost of               a smirk tugging at               his features. ]

        "True enough, dear.         It's confusing me as well         but please, I'd rather Ron.         Please and thank you. ----

                   ----we were talking about species?"

              "No, not mister. Please.               Call me Ron or Noz.               What about Ronald?               Ronnie. Sorry - sorry.               Call me, Time ----

         ----I mean, Ron. Yes. yes that would do well."

                            [ He's mind is scattered easily.                             He has a short attention span                             and is easily distracted. ]

        “Not exactly, no.”

[ Piercings aren’t for him,    but that doesn’t mean    he doesn’t have an idea    as to why people have them. ]

                   "Peculiar. people would endure the                          piercing of skin for an accessory.                                It's a statement - as you say; that                                      my question now is,----

              [ His smirk was faint, but just wide enough to be cocky.                 The Son of Apollo weaved his fingers through his dark,                 golden locks casually before he let his palm rest against                 the flat of the table, eyes curiously flickering back and forth                 between the bemused looking male who was approaching                 him slowly, to the cup that whispered out white,                 misty breaths with the hot beverage contained within.

               —— How nice; time certainly is slow when you’re bored. ]

              “Your half-caf, double vanilla latte is getting cold over here, Francis.”

        [ Delicious; scrumptious scent.           Coffee, dairy, sugar altogether           so sweet to the nose and tangy           on the tongue. What he found           is more impressive, inspiring           was the concoctions humans           have made in the spirit of such           a simply drink. Tea and milk.           Cream and Sugar. A delight to           pass by a cafe as they coined it. ]

       [ Time stares at him a little too thoroughly ]

█ ▌♛ — ;;

                     "Are you a singer?                      Do you play an instrument?                      Are you in a band?"

                      “Don’t be sure nobody knows.                         Someone is bound to know.”

           { Lorne shrugs, looking up at the sky. }

"But not everyone shares knowledge - pity."

      [ It’s rather comical, he thinks, how          this stranger would ask such a          peculiar question out of the blue. ]

         [ And he's that much          more curious. Funny          how he's expected to          be omnipotent. ]

         "No one knows...          [ An awe-filled sigh leaves his lips. ]          Primitive, old, unnecessary --          look at the kites, they're dancing.