Ah, New York City during the bustling hour of three in the morning. People were always going somewhere or doing something, but it wasn't very often a certain redhead was out and about at this hour. And considering what happened last time he was out this late, it was with good reason.

But tonight, or this morning, whatever, Ty couldn't sleep. He'd been through alot, and had just that much on his mind. His life, choices, what he was becoming. What did he even want out of himself? He didn't know.

And apparently sitting in a coffee shop where he was the only customer, staring into a cup of coffee, wasn't helping all that much. His gloved hand wrapped around the cup, lifting the steaming, dark drink to his lips. Ah, coffee. The one thing that never betrayed him.

He let out a sigh. If only coffee had all the answers. Life was confusing. He doubted every aspect of himself, and hated his rotten luck. Ty let out another sigh, relaxing in his chair as he took another sip of coffee.

Evelyn felt like a teenage sneaking out of her house early in the morning, but when you had a bodyguard who refused to give you some time to yourself, sometimes you did what you had to do. The whole climbing through the window thing was silly, but after a restless night, she found herself in a pair of slim jeans, hair up in a ponytail and climbing down the metal rungs into the nighttime. A few glances at the ground sent a shiver up her spine, and she shimmied down the last few feet before dropping to the ground with a small thunk. There were no lights flickering on and her name wasn't getting screamed, so that was a good sign. Feeling somewhat free and triumphant, she made her way to the nearest coffee shop for a treat.

It was the same coffee shop she visited when the rather eventful kidnapping took place. Ironically, she was still wearing the same shirt, a pale white blouse that matched her hair. She had accessorized it differently--a black belt and dangling black earrings, but just the sight of it brought memories to the surface. Things had gone ok, she wasn't dead, but Jensen hadn't been the same since. In a way, she felt he understood his time protecting her was over. She had to learn to watch out for herself, and 24 years old seemed too long of a time to be cooped up indoors.

Slipping into the shop, she wandered up to the counter and placed her order for a Chai Latte, with an extra shot to help get her through the night. There weren't many patrons, which was nice and her echoes wouldn't be as smothering, but that also allowed the few people that were there to stand out. A red-haired teen in particular seemed particularly troubled, and she felt that familiar tug in her gut as the echoes went to work.

Jensen would kill her.

But he looked like he needed to talk.

Jensen would kill her.

And then, coffee in hand, she strode over, pulled up a chair, and plopped down in front of him. "You look like Karma's been beating your ass. As interesting as that coffee cup is, it's not going to answer your question."

Ty jumped a little, looking up to see some white-haired chick, and the source of the voice that had spoken to him. The redhead brushed his hair out of his face, shrugging lightly as he took another sip of coffee.

"Heh...am I that obvious? Luck, Karma, whatever you wanna call it, hasn't been my best friend in the world. Hey, it may not be 'interesting,' but it keeps me awake, and at times, going." Ty shrugged, then he sort of blinked, confused by something she'd said.

"Wait...what question? It's not like I'm sitting here asking my coffee for therapy." The kid scratched his head as he took another sip.

"You may as well be." Evelyn remarked, taking a sip of her own drink. It was still too hot to really get a good taste yet. That was ok, the conversation was entertaining enough for the moment. "Slumped shoulders, slightly unfocused eyes, staring at the coffee cup, up at 3 am and obviously lost some sleep. Your clothes are clean, so at least you aren't that upset. Gloves are broken in and worn, I doubt you take them off very often. Color choice could say a thing or two though. Green, relatively calm color, maybe trying to find some sort of calm in your life? Black, more somber. Reflective, shrouding. More fitting and reflective of your emotions."

She studied him for a moment, and leaned back in her chair a bit. "I've seen my share of problems though. Girl problems seem to be easiest to pick up on: lots of frustration, sometimes sadness, but the balance is off for that. This seems more serious."

Ty blinked, sipping his coffee, but more interested in the girl across from him now. "Black and green are my favorite colors. But no, I usually don't take my gloves off. That's really a neat trick, but tell me this..." He leaned forward, curious. "How do you know about the girl trouble? I doubt there's a specific color or body-language for just that. Possible you could be a mutant, but regardless...am I that easy a guy to read? Or what?" he asked, leaning forward a bit more.

Something seemed weird about this chick, and she knew or could tell alot about him. One or the other. However, it did pique his interest, as noted by his big blue eyes and the way he sat on the edge of his seat. Maybe it was just what he was looking for. Who knew?

Evelyn felt a grin slowly spreading across her face, and she gave a slight nod to the hood of his jacket. "Long brown hair, left side of your hood. Either someone's been cozy with your jacket or they've been staying at your place. Don't see that very often otherwise. And if you didn't have girl trouble, while you might be bothered by other things, there would be that tendency for a smile to flicker across your face that people in love seem to get."

She set her cup on her table and pushed her hair from her face. Her eyes were a slight grey color now, but the transition could be attributed to the lighting if you weren't familiar with what to look for. "I could be a mutant. Or I could be perceptive. And you're medium as far as reading people go. You can keep your cards close enough to your chest but you aren't aware of all your tells so those ones slip by."

"Love? I'm not in love. I thought I was, at one point, but now...now I'm wondering if maybe love's just not for a guy like me."

Love is death, I cannot die....

He shook his head slightly and sat back in his chair, chewing his lip at her words. "So I have a girl staying with me. She's a friend. And one I'd promised a favor. So I'm taking care of her." He let out a sigh.

"So you're saying either you're a mutant, or I have all these quirks that tell you everything about me? Well, I'd be more apt to believe the former, but I gotta say I don't know whether to be pissed or in awe at how you're reading me like today's newspaper..." His voice trailed off. Maybe there were some things he didn't want seen. Who knew?

"Depends on what you don't want people to know." She mused aloud. "You can read things off of most people, the longer you talk the more you learn. How they respond to different words, different changes in conversation. What they choose to say and what they don't. Your more than willing to talk about your girl problems, but the serious issue, that one you avoid."

She shifted, crossing her legs and giving a shrug. "But I figured you needed to talk, so if that's where you start, not a big deal to me. I have nothing better to do."

She took a swing of her coffee, then mused over what he had said. "A friend staying with you. You promised a favor, so you're taking care of her. Taking care of her insinuates she needs the care, so the first guess would be she's injured or otherwise incapable. If she had some other issues, it might not seem so complicated because you wouldn't really have to worry about emotions getting involved and stuff like that, which, while you haven't really said it, seems like it might be possible just regarding your general concerns about 'love'. Maybe you think if the situation had been different you could get along... Regardless, she needs, help, you're helping. An injury, that's a possibility." She considered it.

"Returning to your other statement though, love isn't for a guy like you. Something makes you think you don't deserve love, or don't need it. A lifestyle? Dangerous, or just unlawful. Maybe you hurt someone, considering you said you used to think you were in love. You mess that up, think maybe it's easier to just involve it altogether... Or...it could be both. I'm leaning towards the latter."

She didn't deny his assessment that she was a mutant. She didn't admit it either though.

"You're good," Ty murmured. "I'll give you that." He finished his coffee, then folded his arms across his chest. "Maybe I do need to talk. But I'm not just going to spill my guts to the first pretty face that sits across from me and claims to know my life."

He sighed again, propping his chin on his fist, and his elbow on the table. "Yeah, she got hurt. I promised I'd help any way I could, so...I have been. As far as love goes...maybe I don't deserve it. Yes, I have hurt those I care about, but not intentionally. I just wanted to do what's right. Whatever the hell that is anymore..." he muttered, chewing on his lip some more. He partially wanted to just open up and spill his guts. And yet...he didn't. He couldn't.

Evelyn felt a little flattered by the compliment, but the smile flickered and faded. She shrugged: a gesture that became habit when talking to people who were resistant. Not caring whether they spoke or not often had the habit of letting them steer the conversation where it needed to go, so she didn't fight. "I'm flattered by the compliment, and I only observe. I judge on what I can see, and that's it. Good bad: that's all irrelevant to me." She readjusted and noted the way he chewed his lip and leaned on his hands. It was like the invisible pressure of his issues were weighing down on him. For the moment, she let the conversation continue.

"What's right really depends on viewpoint. That's the interesting thing about morals. Whatever side you sit on and take a stand for is going depends on what feels right to you. Sometimes people don't share the same viewpoints, and you can hurt them without always meaning to. That's why relationships can be tricky. No one agrees on everything and you have to learn that life will twist and warp reality and you need to know what to look for to root yourself in. You don't hold on tight enough, and you get thrown around." Maybe that was a little too poetic. She took a drink and let the caffeine help clear the echoes and sort through her own thoughts on them.

Ty smiled back, but it too flickered as his mind began to wander. "I'm not so sure where I stand anymore. I do my best and only hurt those who trust me. I cling so tightly to what I held dear, but...in the end I thought it best to let it go. Now I wonder if that really was best. Which doesn't matter because I can never have it back anyway..." He felt his face turn beet red, and he shed his jacket, revealing a black shirt with a green guitar on it.

"steelblue]Makes me wonder how many other choices I screwed up..."

Evelyn mused thoughtfully and considered what he said. She couldn't exactly tell him what to do, and she couldn't just say 'you screwed up'. Well she could, but that would be rude and she was only slightly inconsiderate. "If you can't get it back, then why worry about it? Find something new to shoot for, protect, hold onto. Think through things a little more and consider how it will feel if you do or don't do something. I don't know, I am ok at the 'finding' problems thing. The fixing stuff takes a bit more work, because it's personal."

She spun her cup and thought about it. "Everyone makes mistakes. Some are more serious, some aren't. Heck, even I guess wrong. I've accused people of stealing who weren't stealing... If there's one thing I've learned though is second guessing yourself only wastes time. Go with your gut. If you can't trust yourself, you don't have much to stand on."

"Because I screwed up," he answered. "That's what tends to happen with me. Either I screw it up, or it blows up in my face regardless..." He let out a sigh. "My gut is generally what gets me into these messes," he said.

"My gut is what got me chased by chihuahuas, bitten by poodles, smitten by what I thought was love, and it was my gut that had me throw it out the window. Now, here I am...sitting in a coffee shop, spilling my guts to someone I don't even know..."

Well... that was certainly a pessimistic way to look at things. Maybe he did have a lot of bad luck. Chihuahuas, poodles, broken hearts... She glanced at the clock on the while. Might need to charge him another hour for therapy. Good thing it was free.

"Ok, so following your gut screwed some stuff up. But has it ever got you out of trouble? Try to think of some of the stuff in your life you are proud of and that make you happy. How did you get there?" She took a sip of the latte, the liquid getting a bit colder, but at least the conversation had warmed up.

"And as far as spilling your gutts go, I'm not going to make posters so don't worry. Nice thing about being able to learn so many secrets: you learn to keep a lot of them." She tried giving a reassuring expression. Behind the counter, the barista was trying to clean, and one of their few late-night companions stretched and finally moved out the door.

"It's saved my life a couple of times, yeah," he said. "Granted I sort of stole a car. Saved me from going to jail, but again, I stole another car. Or killed people...I haven't exactly lived a saintly or glamorous life," he admitted quietly.

"Granted, that relationship was fun...for the most part...while it lasted." And taking care of said girl while she had amnesia was sweet. "Although...my gut also told me to go to a bar on my birthday...which I can't remember." He cracked a grin.