<div class="floatleft">(http://mehwhatever.com/profile/pics/marathefau.jpg)</div><strong>Name~</strong>Mara Capra<br/><br/><strong>Job~</strong>(https://s10.postimg.org/x9itnt1fd/banners4.png)<br/><br/><strong>When~</strong>17 September, before opening/opening.<br/><br/><strong>Tagging~</strong>Lamia, Liliana, Smith (m), open<br/><br/><strong>Side Note~</strong>Wearing-Work outfit (http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=218597034)<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>Smoothing her A-line black skirt down her (very human) thighs, Mara jingled her keys until the Cafe key surfaced. Letting herself into the not-yet-open business, she let her eyes adjust to the dimmer lit room. The bright morning sun had her rectangular pupil’s narrowed to slits. In here, they widened, revealing how she wasn’t quite human. Hearing the door click shut behind her, she took not a single moment more to rub her thumb over the amulet hanging around her neck. Out popped her horns. The feeling was something akin to popping one’s back- nearly euphoric.<br/><br/>Euphoric or not, the fawn needed coffee. Stat. “Hello?” She called out, wondering who had already arrived. Hopefully whoever did the baking and perhaps the cook. She didn’t typically work morning shifts, but had picked up a shift for the extra cash. That and she genuinely enjoyed being here at the Cafe. It was a strange notion, a person actually enjoying their job this much. But the very concept of this place was a strange notion- a meeting place for everyone not human. Besides Agent Smith. That was curious, wasn’t it? Mara thought to herself as she fired up the grand espresso machine. The best way to warm up a machine like this was to make a starter shot or two. Not being one to waste, she’d do her part by drinking them herself. Always the team player! Ahem.<br/><br/>As the dark liquid poured from the spout into the shot glass, Mara thought again on the mysterious, nicely dressed human who’d popped in for an inspection. He’d turned down coffee, peculiar man. Or just a consummate professional. Likely the latter, given his garb and demeanor. Hearing another sound, Mara called out, “Lamia, is that you?” Pouring the steamed milk into a mug, she tried her hand at creating an artful design with the foam. It certainly took practice. “I’ll fix you a latte or cappuccino if you’d like! I need to get this foam art down.” Taking a sip, Mara ended up with a foam-mustache. Spotting a woman at the host stand, she hastily wiped the foam from her lips and tied on her apron, ready for business.