A woman enters the tea shop while Jon is working. She is wearing a red linen dress and a brown leather coat, rough and piecemeal in its construction with a jagged hem, creating an odd silhouette. The pieces of hide that form it look fused, not sewn, and a wreath of battered black fur rests upon her shoulders like laurels. The features of her face draw the eye far more than the coat--- striking attractiveness, raven curls, dark eyes like scalpels, long doe's eyelashes, a cherry red lip like a warning. Danger! Danger!

She sits at the counter. As soon as he makes eye contact, the air is electric as two forces of nature collide. She's old. It doesn't take the Eye's blessing to sense that in a fellow avatar. But her skin has been replaced, her organs refashioned as many times as she needs.

The smell of steak and garlic. Of wine and chocolate. Of blood and sex.

The Flesh.

"Hi honey." A smile finds her lips. Her accent is American with just the slightest hint of German. "Any chance I can get a London Fog?"