"Sometimes it just ain't worth gettin' up in th' mornin'..."

The words drifted from lips clenched around a burning Marlboro, the light whisps of semi-translucent smoke curling about that ruggedly handsome face as he made random conversation with the waitress who served his coffee.  A waitress, who apparently couldn't speak a lick of English because she just nodded and gave him a rather inquisitve look that was tinted with incomprehension.  Sighing, he removed the cigarette from his lips and held it between the ring and pinky of his right hand as he took up the steaming cup of black goodness.  Shrugging those thick shoulders of his, he took a hefty swallow of the fluid, reveling in the sensation of liquid fire rolling down the length of his throat to settle in the pit of his stomach.  He shivered slightly and replaced the cup on the saucer she'd provided him.

"Y'know what ah'm sayin', doll?  'Course ya' don't.  What ah'm sayin' is prolly jus' gibberish to ya, ain't it?  Ah could prolly say that th' world was endin' an' you'd jus' look at me like ah sprouted another head, ain't that right?"

Again, she nodded and said something in Italian that just... might as well have been German for all that he knew of other languages.  When he returned an inquisitve look through the exhaled smoke of his cigarette, she indicated the coffee near his curled right hand with a slender index pointed in it's direction.  Brows lifted high on his forehead and he chuckled as he shook his head.  Seriously, in one of the most visited places in the world, he figured that the cafes would at least hire somebody who could speak just a little bit of English.  Really...  How hard could it be?

"That'll be it, darlin'.  Now get outta here.  Ain't no sense in hangin' around a good ol' boy like me..."  He shifted those dull green eyes around the bustling cafe as he finished the sentence under his breath.

"...might get ya'self killed thattaway..."

Apparently that done the trick and she hurried off to see to the other customers, leaving Dischord with his thoughts and a freshly lit Marlboro half-held between his lips as he reclined deeper into the disturbingly comfortable cafe chair.  As he continued to watch his surroundings with mild interest, he let his mind wander into the depths of memories that weren't his own.  The last of the pitiful creatures he'd siphoned had led him here to Rome.  The images he'd gleaned from their dying minds giving the slightest of hints of persons and places that were 'round-a-bout this half of the world.  Maybe here he'd finally find the answers he sought so zealously.  Maybe.  After all, he'd managed to do this several times before and only end up with more questions rambling through his mind.  Of course, this time, he'd gotten sight of a rather interesting woman.  A woman who had ties to wolves and the dead as well.  Interesting all in it's own right.

"Sevvy..." 

The name slipped his lips as he curled his fingers around the cooling cup, the action in itself causing those bony little talons to split the soft skin of his fingertips.  Blood ran and dripped onto the delicate white tablecloth as he flexed his natural weapons, the razor sharp tips screeching on the fine china and digging shallow furrows into it's glazed surface.

"...hope ya' ready for me, darlin' cuz' ah'm comin' for ya'..."