The sun was out, the sky was clear and blue. One distracted Greek was thrilled to feel warmth on her cheeks, fresh air in her lungs, and a soft breeze rolling gently past. She'd spent too long cooped up on her own. Even being out amongst strangers was satisfying. Breathing out a soft sigh, she glanced down at the little watch on her wrist. She was still getting used to her new job... it was drastically different from what she had been doing at the flower shop. She had paperwork to organize, calls to handle, and she needed to greet people in a friendly, direct manner.

...It was a little off setting, in all honesty. Andrea had never been in charge of anything her entire life. Sure, with Alisa she had been left the task of arranging flowers for specific orders, but that had been nothing like having to take down details about meetings and other equally important things. She had been completely overwhelmed the first few days, even if her shift had been short and she hadn't had a lot to do. But... she had vowed to do her best. Lori had given her a chance and she would rather get carted off by the law and deported, than let such a lovely woman down.

Thankfully though, she was off work and headed home. The heels she had been tossed into in order to fit the image of a prim and proper receptionist were a pain to walk in, and the skirt she had squeezed herself into made it rather difficult to get anywhere fast.. but she was getting there. The 'uniform' had grown on her really, in a strange and silly way. Everything save for the low cut tops that plunged just a little too deeply for her taste, she was growing used to day by day. She had learned a trick for such a shirt, however, from Alisa herself. A soft, sheer scarf tied around the neck loosely, in an adorable little bow, completely covered any area's she wished to keep away from leering eyes while remaining tasteful and job friendly. She had also found comfort in weaving her hair back in a lengthy braid down her back. The snakes, usually woven within, had wiggled their way out only an hour past, and were busy flicking tongues this way and that while they eyed scenery around them.

Smoothing the ruffles of her white blouse down, and then tugging at her pin skirt for the billionth time, the Greek clip clopped her way toward a small, decorative brick square between a few little family owned shops and a rather large hotel. It was a regular shortcut for her when she decided to walk to a bus stop further away from her work, that was tucked away from the busy main roads. It as relaxing, and a hot spot for people who liked to sit and sip coffee while reading papers in the lazy afternoon. Aside from the laid back attitude, the Greek enjoyed walking back the cherry blossom trees that wound their way in scattered beds around the expanse of brick walkway and benches.

t wasn't a great place for street performance. It was kinda out-of-the-way, and those who did come here weren't likely to give a street mime very much money for his work. There weren't many people around, and most of them tried to ignore him. This would have driven Dorian crazy, a year ago. However, Since Dorian wasn't here for their money today, he didn't quite care. In fact, he was almost glad, considering his real reasons for being here.

Dorian was going to murder somebody in public today. The victim's last moments would be pure terror. Also, it was going to be hilarious. Or, at least Dorian thought so. He hated to admit it, but this particular breed of homicide always made him giggle. If he played his cards right, he wouldn't even be the only one laughing at it.

But that would have to come later. His target, a member of a rival gang called the "Crimson Devils" that had managed to slap some M together, should be showing up any minute now to "talk business with a representative of the Vermicis." Unfortunately for his target, the Devils' real contact with the Vermicis was now dead. Unfortunately for the Vermicis, they were about to make another violent, powerful enemy. Not as powerful as the Order itself, mind you, but the Order was already competing with the Devils and the Vermicis. Turning them against each other could only be a good thing.

In the meantime, Dorian was establishing for his audience that he was a street performer, and that he had mutant powers. He did this by erecting invisible walls directly in other people's paths. If they hit the barrier, often bumping their heads on it in the process, he would give them a deeply apologetic look, then politely hold an invisible door open for them.

This kind of act didn't make Dorian much money, but it amused him greatly.

While doing this, he noticed a green-skinned lady with snakes for hair. She looked vaguely familiar, but she seemed too well-dressed to be a fellow Sanctuary resident, and he didn't think she was in the Order's roster. All in all, he couldn't think of any good reasons to not-make-her-run-into-a-wall.

He walked straight towards her, in full mime regalia: striped black and white shirt, face paint, little black hat, the works. When he was about five steps in front of her, he stopped abruptly. He took a step back and held his nose, acting like he'd just rammed his nose into something very solid. Now, there was an invisible brick wall directly in the gorgon's path.

She wasn't paying attention, a mistake in a city like New York. Her phone had made some sort of strangled chiming noise, and she was busy poking at the darn thing to try and figure out what it wanted. Sometimes she wasn't sure she'd made the right decision in letting Saph choose a phone for her.

"...What's my password again?" She muttered to herself, while prodding at the screen. For some reason people liked having to scrawl a pattern over little dots before they could get into their own phones. It was probably easier and a lot less stressful when you could remember your pattern, but considering the fact that she was still discovering new and interesting things about the laptop she'd owned for seven years... she was having a difficult time adjusting.

She almost missed the interestingly dressed male moving around in front of her, so intently was she focused on her phone, but as it happened she'd just managed to get it unlocked. "Ha-ha!" Her celebration was short lived, as she walked head first into something that felt suspiciously like a wall.

The Greek toppled back, sent off balance as her cursed heels wobbled under her, and landed solidly on her derriere. Her phone landed off to the side, her purse to the other. She gingerly rubbed at the little growing lump on her forehead, as she silently puzzled over how she had managed to turn herself into a wall. Because, obviously, there were not supposed to be walls in the middle of the walkway.

What greeted her shilded gaze though, was the male dressed from head to toe in mime garb that she'd neglected to see, standing not to far from where she sat. "...Oh... I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going." Heat lit up her cheeks with a soft brown, and she set about collecting herself from then pavement in the most modest way she could imagine. How did women live in these kinds of skirts?! Before she had so much as made it fully to her feet, she leaned a little too far forward to collect her phone, smacked into something hard again, and landed back on her rump. This time, though, she'd at least been able to see, or not see, what she'd run into.

A heel clad toe slipped forward experimentally to poke at the invisible barrier. Once she assured herself that it was really there, and that she had not, in fact, lost her mind on the way home from work, she relaxed a little. Her eyes traveled back up to the mime man, and she tilted her head slightly.

"Did you make... this?" She poked at the wall again, to emphasize what she was talking about, temporarily forgetting that someone dressed as a mine, would surely not reply back with words.