  it’s quiet when the Caster enters the clinic, something she was not expecting. usually, places like this would be busy at any given hour and yet she doesn’t find any patrons inside. a good thing, she supposes and yet at the same time, a shame. the talents of those excelling in caring for others shouldn’t go to waste. but such matters was not why she was there. she moves carefully, silently, through the place in search of its one sole occupant. something that did not take long at all for when she entered the next room, she spotted his form hunched over a desk. papers strewn everywhere, a mug of two laying empty and faintly can she pick up on the scent of coffee.Â
   he does not stir at the sounds from her footsteps and upon closer inspection, she finds out why....
     ....sleeping. of course. Mata Hari had mentioned how much the man seemed to overwork himself to the point of exhaustion often. it wasn’t uncommon to find him finishing pot after pot of caffeine and Robin insinuated that he was more made of coffee at that point than flesh and blood. she had laughed then. if he was tired, Sheba did not want to wake him. rest was a priceless thing to humans and they needed as much as they could get. yet, she didn’t exactly want to leave, either. a moment to think before a solution arrives.
   and so the Caster takes a seat in one of the nearby chairs, one leg folding on top of the other. she would wait.
@arsnova​ -- starter call.
