<div style="background-color:Steelblue; border:1px solid black; margin:10px 10px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px;"><div style="background-color:Lightsteelblue; border:1px solid black; margin:10px 10px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px;"><span style="color: #191970">As Maia sat and sipped her still too hot coffee, she glanced around at the inhabitants of the café. It was a strange bunch for sure, and quite diverse at that. On the side she noted a man sitting at a table that had come in last from them, scruffy and hardened from life’s probable distresses. Sitting at the front was an older black woman, who took a moment to look behind her at another younger woman with blonde hair, a seeming connection shared briefly between the two. While the younger woman looked fresh and ready for all of life, the older woman looked to be tired and achy in the cold weather that surrounded them. <br/><br/>She was drawn out from her sudden observations by another man talking off to the side of her. She could tell he was an islander, what sort she wasn’t sure of at the moment, but it was his words that captured her attention the most. Disappearances? Here? When did this happen? She didn’t watch the news because more often than not it was more bad news after the next with nothing good in sight. It was depressing to her so she rarely watched. <br/><br/>But the way he spoke about the disappearances and the way the blonde woman seemed to answer made her curious as to what was going on. She loved a good mystery after all, and enjoyed the thrill of finding things out. As she started to inquire as to what they were talking about the blonde woman headed out of the café quickly toward the train, the black woman following behind her quickly, and the hardened man following not long after.<br/><br/>Without pause, Maia got up from her seat, carrying her cup with her to follow after them onto the train, turning back just in time to see the Islander following close behind. Before she knew it she was on the train in the same car as the three that had left the café heading to Aldgate for no other apparent reason than to sate her curiosity. “Cla,” she stated under her breath as she boarded suddenly, not really sure if she ought to be doing so, especially without a ticket.</span></div><br/><div style="background-color:Lightsteelblue; border:1px solid black; margin:10px 10px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px;"><span style="color: #191970"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;">N</span>ote: Cla is Irish slang for Brilliant.</span></div></div>