AN: I have self edited this the best I could, but I'm ridiculously bad at such things. So, please, if anyone is interested in being my beta, I would love you forever and make you cookies. Or something. You can reach me at goblinqueenie on AIM and YIM, or goblinqueenie at gmail dot com.

That said, this is a sequel of sorts to a previous novella (that desperately needs to be rewritten) in which ancient gods still exist in the modern world. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter One: In which there is potential.

Alone, at a corner table of the quirky independent coffee shop was a man who seemed more than a little out of place in the young hipster crowd. In his late thirties, his hair was dark, curling and his skin pale. The expression on his face brooked no interruption of his cappuccino, his suit jacket thrown carelessly over the back of the empty chair across from him in a subtle yet recognizable statement that, no, he was not interested in company.

Territory thus marked, he remained glaring at the late night crowd of college students. More than once, his attention fell on two, a young man and woman obviously on their first date. The young man sat in awkward silence, an embarrassed smile on his face. To make up for his apparent inability to speak, the young woman seemed to be telling her life story, pausing often with to give her date a hopeful look.

When he would say nothing, the cause of the lack of actual conversation his seeming inability to string a coherent thought together, she would look away, considering.

What she was considering, the lone man in the corner couldn't be sure. Though his money was on suicide by coffee cup.

"What are you thinking?" the young man asked with that same shy smile.

"You must be tired of my endless nattering.

"Not at all."

"Well, I am," she said, but not rudely.

"As am I," the eavesdropper muttered under his breath.

"So… tell me something interesting," she commanded of her date.

The man in the corner turned away from them, pressing his thin hands against his face. It was a wasteland, this vista of the young. Not a spark of feeling amongst the lot of them. The lame couple had potential, at least, he could see it shining around them. And the girl, at least, was trying, honestly trying.

The boy had said something inappropriate and the eavesdropper once again turned his attention to them.

"Intimidating?" the girl said with a note of quiet hysteria. She made a visible effort not to make too much of a scene. "Cats. Death. Munchy-munchy!"

Her date looked at her with the pure terror that is provoked by witnessing a woman undone. "What?"

"I'm going to die. Alone. In a house. With thirty cats. Who will then proceed to eat my carcass." When she said it, it came out as a sort of quiet screech.

"What?" he managed again.

The man at the corner table laughed aloud, if quietly. "Munchy-munchy. That's a good one." Feeling an inordinate amount of sympathy for her, he smiled at them.

The light of potentiality grew brighter. The boy smiled at her. "What do you want me to say?" he asked with a chuckle

"Tell me I'm pretty."

"Of course you are," he said with another laugh. "Much too pretty to die alone." He gently squeezed her shoulder.

She had buried her face in her hands and now looked up at the touch. Smiling she said, "Thanks."

"Done freaking out?"

"I think so."

"Cool."

The man in the corner stood, relatively satisfied with his evening's excursion.