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Having fallen asleep in Izzy's lap, Shasta blinks and sits up.
"Coffee?"
He stood up, black eyes dull this particular morning, and picked his way over various sleeping Downers to the bar, shivering slightly. Perhaps wearing sandals in an unseasonably cold April such as this one wasn't the smartest idea... Forgetting a jacket also probably wasn't the most intelligent thing he could have done.
Right now, a shivering Shasta wanted coffee. The turquoise tshirt he'd picked specially to wear to this gathering was wrinkled a bit from sleeping on a bench, the rips in his jeans meant they were doing nothing to keep out the cold, and his black hair stuck up in the back, but all he cared about at this moment in time was the caffeine.
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Shasta– ... However, if he's innocent his famous clairvoyant powers must be taking the week off. Meanwhile, the Night-kills have been awfully effective– almost like we're dealing with a psychic wolf... - Nerwen, WW LXXV
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