Xavier, through an strange twist of fate, was walking down the same street on which the coffee shop was set, his eyes puffy and swollen from a long night of paperwork and research. One of his clients, a major pharmacutical fund, was losing money, and fast. Without going into long, boring details of such, he had been charged with overlooking all major records of the past year in order to identify the problem.  He was exhausted, his feet dragging and his briefcase swinging from side to side with his arm. Stopping outside the coffee shop, he took a moment to inhale the aroma. "Ah, what the hell . . ." he muttered to himself, stepping in to the establishment and approaching the counter, intending to purchase something to make him feel slightly less near-death.