[i]”Hola, buenos días, puedo tener–“[/i] The voice paused after seeing the confused expression on the barista’s face. He stopped for a moment, muttering to himself. “Where the hell am I now?” He looked back up, tentatively said “...hello?” And, fortunately, received a nod of confirmation. Despite having started by speaking in a different language, the man’s English was perfectly fine–probably his native language, actually. But speaking of the man, he was... well, the best way to describe him was average looking. He had wavy, wild black hair, that seemed incapable of staying still. His skin tone was tan and smooth, while his build was clearly mesomorphic. He stood at an average height of 5’11” – really, the only thing that would separate him from your average civilian was the black cybernetic left arm, which even then, was rather common amongst fighters nowadays. “Uhhhh... a... I dunno. Coffee, black.” He said. He clearly wasn’t used to Starbucks. “A name for your order?” “Aaahhh – William.” A person skilled in reading people would be able to recognize the lie without much effort – judging by the hesitation and the slight movement of his pupils, he had likely thought up a random name on the spot. Hopefully one the barista would spell correctly on the cup of the coffee. As the man sat down, he noticed the dissatisfied demeanor of the woman beside him. Without much thought, a question arose: “This place any good?”