They found themselves on a small coffee shop that had a neon sign advertising that it was open 24 hours a day. It was a small, family owned business and it showed, instead of the pre-made, straight from a catalogue, seats and tables, this cafe had a mixture of several kinds and styles of seating, no doubt acquired over the years. Betty thought it gave the little place personality.
The waitress, no doubt one of the daughters of the owners, who seemed to be on her 20's and had a pink streak on her raven black hair, as well as gray eyes, stood there, waiting for them to finish their stifled interactions and order. It was always quiet at this time of the night, most people were sleeping, or partying in a much wilder place than the quiet cafe.
She asked them if they wanted anything, Betty ordered some of the strongest options, and Montgomery asked for a relatively bitter taste of coffee. She nodded as she walked to behind the counter to take off the coffees. When she was done she returned to them, with the coffees in her hand and put them down in front of the two people.
Dr Director mixed her coffee with slow, purposeful movements, the clock on the wall, if it was correct, told her she had little time to fraternize with the man in front of her, which was a shame, she looked on, carefully keeping track of the time, as she didn't want to arrive late to work.
Lord Montgomery looked at the woman in front of him, still wearing his gloves, he tentatively picked up the coffee cup where the coffee had been poured and drank a little bit of it. Not having poured the sugar, he had it like he enjoyed it, bitter. He glanced at the woman in front of him, she was looking at the clock, and she seemed nervous.
"Got a place to go to? You seem anxious"
As with previously, his British accent did get to her, she lived in the British Islands, she was used to hearing it...but it sounded refined as it came out of his mouth.
She pulled a loose strand of hair back from her face and smiled, embarrassed.
"Yes actually, I should really get going"
He was taken aback by this, he had thought the encounter was going smoothly all around, they had agreed on a place, and though they hadn't struck much of a conversation, only their names, Monty having gone with Montgomery as revealing his criminal alias was a stupid idea, and Dr Director having gone with Betty, since her name "Dr Director" was a secret to most.
Despite the stiff and sort of awkward conversations they both had been glancing at one another. Lord Monkey Fist didn't know what to say or do to make her stay, as with previously, he wanted to make sure he could contact her, for, if she really had to leave, they could schedule out another meeting.
She packed the few things she had carried out with her and put on some pence down at the table, then, as if making a split second decision she wrote up a number in a sheet of paper she had, handed it to the man, stood up and left.
Lord Monkey Fist finished sipping on his coffee and looked at the number, it was a number which had the correct number of digits and was very likely to be a real number, he decided he was going to call it tomorrow night, for, if she had to leave now, even if he didn't know the reason, it was no use bothering her. As she left he stared at her, she definitively was worth pursuing, from what little to nothing they had talked about, she seemed clever and interesting.
Betty looked down as she advanced towards home. There wasn't anything secretive about the number she had given the man, it was the number of her "civilian" cell phone. Stricken as she might be for the man (which she wasn't sure she was), she wasn't about to give him a number of the place she worked at...Global Justice had several strong guidelines about it, ones she had made even, and giving out details about where she worked, or any sort of information (which included a number) was strictly forbidden. She wondered, as she crossed the streets back to her own house where she would be picked up – if the strong coffee that she had consumed would be enough to keep her awake throughout the day, if not, well, she could always have another. The medicine she had taken earlier had taken its toll and now she felt slightly tired. She just hoped the coffee's effect would overtake those.
Lord Monkey Fist stood there and smiled at the waitress as he put down a few pence of his own on the table. He rarely carried with him such meagre coins, normally walking with the high pound bills, but he figured the drinks were going to be cheap. He had been right, of course, he told himself how he was right most of the times, and that made him smile even more. He grinned as he paid his bill (the one he had to pay, not the money ones), and, as he left he walked right to his car, which he had left in the parking spots nearby. He entered the fast, ferocious, refined car and drove off, barely paying attention to the road and, instead, focusing on the woman he had met she would be his little mating partner, he was sure of it.