A Tuffle and a Saiyan [Ein/Lettuki]

  The office in question was a modest building, to be polite. Located down an alley off the main road, the building looked as if it had been mashed between its taller neighbors, leaving it looking more than a little cramped. Wrought-iron hugged against the little staircase leading up to its door, and while the building itself bore no obvious markers as the location of a private practice, if one were to ask the right questions around West City, they'd be pointed in the right direction.

  As for Ein, they had currently dropped themselves onto a sofa, picking through a box of takeout for lunch.  The closest thing that currently passed for company in that moment was just their little recorder, which had been unceremoniously dumped into the chair across from them.  On the coffee table, a folder and all its contents had been spread haphazardly across the surface; papers scrawled with various notes and observations seem to have been deposited there with little regard for them.  There was the slightest quirk in their brow as Ein glared down at these documents: a minor tweak of irritation. The Tuffle had hit a block in one of their pet projects, which, while nothing new exactly, was always frustrating to deal with. Especially when the block could possibly last for weeks on end.  So they had decided to say 'screw it' and take a break from it today: close up shop, and just take it easy.  Maybe they would even go downtown and see a movie later today.

  In other words, Ein was none the wiser when Lettuki had arrived in the city.

  To be fair though, how could they be? Like most of the Earth's inhabitants, Ein couldn't sense energy. Up to this point, there hadn't been a need to learn the skill to do so, so they hadn't bothered.  This left them at an obvious disadvantage, to be sure, but the truth of the matter was Ein wasn't really a fighter to begin with.  They mostly kept to themselves, and while some of their clientele could be very... particular about their doctor/patient confidentiality, the majority of them were also the untrained masses.  Ein's augments alone were sufficient enough to handle a client's behavior going south.  So, there they sat in their modest waiting room: mildly disgruntled with their work, but otherwise completely oblivious to the kind of day that awaited in store for them.

WC: 404
PL: 1,500