Fancy Seeing you here {Pitch}

The door to the Kiosk opened with the gentle tingling of a bell as a tall, dark figure entered. Pitch cast his yellow gaze around the room, only too aware of the looks that passed his way because he was a demon. The eyes he saw held different emotions ranging from concern to hatred, but his own face remained as calm and unreadable as a statue.

Without a hint of hesitation, Pitch walked slowly up to the counter where he could place his order. Normally he wouldn't even bother coming into a restaurant in the middle of the day simply because of the reception he received, but the Nevermore was different. After all, since Sunshine's family ran the kiosk and they were coworkers, they never reacted badly towards him which saved him valuable time.

"Café Americano. Black."

He silently slid the money onto the counter before moving away to find a more private seating area to enjoy his coffee when it was served. However, he suddenly came to a perfect standstill and remained unmoving for several seconds. An almost visceral sensation had come to him from somewhere in the kiosk, something like a cross between smell and touch but beyond the human senses. Demon. It was the sense of demon.

However, the 'scent' was extremely subtle to the point that Pitch hadn't immediately sensed it upon entering Nevermore. This in itself was unusual as, being a demon himself, he could normally pick out such 'scents' without even focusing. It was also unusual to even find a demon in a place so close to the BPD Headquarters unless they were called in for questioning or under arrest. After all, they tended to avoid the area as much as possible.

Pitch finally moved, his head slowly turning and tracking the demonic scent until his gaze fell upon a young man sitting by himself and sipping at a coffee. He stared at the man for several moments, ignoring everything else around him, before he began to walk towards the figure.

He knew that scent.

Pitch came to stand in front of the table where the young man sat. It was clear from how he held himself and the slight crease between his brows that he didn't want to talk or be bothered by anyone, but he merely gave a sign before speaking in a slightly hesitant voice.

Pitch didn't immediately speak but spent the next several seconds making sense of the demon scent that clearly had come from this young man. However, it was immediately clear that it wasn't a case of someone interacting regularly with demons, a person being controlled by demonic energy or even a demon masquerading as a human. So what did that leave? Pitch had a theory, but he wasn't about to rely on theory alone without something to support it. So he chose to play stupid for the moment.

"Yes, you can. Tell me, why do you smell of demon?"

His words were soft and directed only at the young man. Even if those in the shop were trying to eavesdrop, the words would never reach anyone else.

So his theory had been right about the young man being half-demon. Outwardly, he remained as stony-faced as before but his thoughts were far from still. Half-demons weren't unheard of but they were uncommon simply because most demons wouldn't pair with a human and, if they did, the human normally didn't survive for very long.

"Given my own experience with such things, I am not compelled to broadcast to anyone your heritage. However, your scent is familiar to me."

Indeed, it truly was. At one point he had been familiar with a huge collection of the criminal elements of Bellrouge, both human and Other. And even though that part of his life was behind him, had been since he joined the BPD, he never forgot the scent of one of his kind.

Pitch raised a single eyebrow at the young man's low mutterings, his claim of having a bad headache and the feelings rolling off of him as clearly as if they were written on his forehead.

"It seems as though I am not the demon you want to leave you alone."

His expression remained as still and calm as before and his posture made it clear he wasn't about to leave. Not just yet.

Pitch merely nodded and said nothing more as the young man banged his head on the table and began to speak of his troubles. When he mentioned the name Hexxus, his suspicions were merely confirmed. He could have recognized that scent anywhere, the smell of burning oil mixed with rotting eggs.

He silently slid into the opposite side of the booth when the body gestured for him to do so, but he remained silent as the man finally seemed to collect himself enough to introduce himself as Moses Gradely. Pitch debated for a moment if he should give the boy a false name but quickly reached the conclusion that, while a false name was necessary in his line of undercover work, this situation hardly called for it.

"I am Pitch Black."

He used his abbreviated name to save on time and lengthy explanations. For some reason people always wanted to know what his full name meant and why he had been given it. After all, a demon's name was meant to reveal something about their nature.

"I recognized his scent in you because I have had dealings with him in the past."

"I do mind."

Pitch's tone was neutral and he acted as if, despite refusing to discuss it, the topic really didn't matter to him in any way. However, his mind couldn't help but fall back to the dealings he had had with Hexxus not so long ago. Those dealings had tended to revolve around power plays, territory deals and the exchange of large quantities of illegal goods. And some of those meetings had led to deaths in Bellerouge, deaths he hadn't blinked an eye at before......

"Needless to say, I don't freely give information to those who have not earned it. However, I would caution you to be wary around Hexxus. While I cannot reveal much to you, I can tell you he is a clever and manipulative demon and will use whatever means he has to get what he wants from you."

Pitch looked Moses up and down at these last words, wondering what it could possibly be that Hexxus wanted from his child. Perhaps it was something to look into, to make sure that Hexxus wasn't creating anything more than the usual trouble.

"Understandable."

Pitch offered nothing more to the conversation as Moses spoke, clearly exhausted from dodging his father's presence and afraid of what could possibly happen.

A moment later a waiter stopped in front of their booth and placed Pitch's drink on the table in front of him. He gave a small nod but kept his eyes on Moses nonetheless.

"It seems as though your father's unwanted visits are only part of your concerns."

He took a sip of his coffee without adding any sugar or cream. He couldn't stand coffee unless it was served completely black.