Disclaimer: I don't own Legion. I will never own Legion.

Black Coffee & Strawberry Cookies-:-

There is no real reason for him to be in New Metropolis. No reason, other than the food he needs to buy that is insanely cheap for the one of the main technological capitals of the universe. That was the only reason he was there. Smelling oranges from the bodega and adding one at a time to the bag in his other hand.

He is not wearing his usual attire; he's in a deep grey long coat—like a trench coat, but newer and less itchy—and to an untrained eye looks like a lawyer or a normal, good person-type of doctor on his lunch break. Smelling oranges.

Lord, he kept thinking someone was going to come by and just jump him for no reason any sane person could imagine, but existed so easily in his mind that it became a dreadful, paranoid part of himself. It felt in its own way kind of like a shadow on the horizon of his comfortable life that he had manufactured for himself. Not comfortable at all.

The orange he had been smelling for the last two minutes was added to his bag, the fourth one to be plucked up from its station in the square box filled with its little relatives and brethren of dark orange and light orange tropic fruit. He has been standing in the same spot for over twenty-five minutes and had not even started looking over the melons, apples, apricots, those fuzzy-clustered up-sort of cherry-looking things and edible roses he ate to keep his shapely figure. From the side of his peripheral vision he could see the bodega owner and noted that the stout little thing looked a little freaked out.

On the bright side of this very out of character trip, travelling this far from Rawl, Londo finally had the opportunity to spend the credits earned by listening, and contributing in an odd little way, to Winema Wazzo's problems. Two sessions and enough credits to pay for his groceries for the next three weeks had left him feeling…different when he woke up that morning. Like the lab, his wonderful lab with all of his scientific toys and explosive devices, was a suffocating cage. He just grabbed clean clothes from the very back of his closet (wrapped in plastic, from some time period when he still cared enough to take care of his clothes,) put them on, grabbed the credit the black haired banshee had left on his coffee table a little while ago and made for New Metropolis.

Getting annoyed by the looks the bodega owner was still throwing his way, he paid for the oranges and made for the caffeine shop he had passed by while walking down the hill. It had been a long time since he'd been to New Metropolis, but he was glad to see that this particular little shop was still in business. He knew it well from when he was younger and Brin was still in his life.

That thought caused him a misstep and he almost tripped and landed on his face, but he caught himself just enough for one knee to lock up and make him simply stumble twice, the bag of oranges falling from his hand and just sort of group into a herd and settle in the gutter.

"…the hell was that?" Londo muttered to himself.

Shaking his head a little, the man bent his knee experimentally and then bent over entirely to pick up the oranges. Some of them were smeared from mud that was a result from three nights of rainfall and the wet dirt clung to his pores and the little nicks and cuts that he often overlooked from his time in the lab. It stung, like his thoughts of his son that were growing in number since the President popped into his life. It was similar to what happened when one starts smoking cigarettes, really. The sensations are new, sometimes awful and sometimes wonderful when mixed with some emotion or physical activity or coffee, but there is still the inevitable fate of having one's wardrobe smell like smoke.

A little crick made through his back as he stood up again and he was met with the sight of the caffeine shop. The prospect—and smell—of freshly made coffee and coffee products takes his mind off of his son for the moment and he strides up to it, bag in his hand a little crinkled, but still holding in there as he stepped through the door.

The building itself is all white that is slightly faded from age, the actual name of the shop run down so much that the only thing legible from the name of the place is an 'M' that stands out in a bright green that might have been blue once and to this day he still doesn't know the real name of the establishment. Stepping in, the door knocks into a bell hanging on a hook above the doorframe that is missing the little metal piece in its mouth. It still makes a little jingle noise, though and he smiles just for a moment and takes his place in the front to look over the menu placed behind the register counter.

He looks at the horrible writing of the menus, but knows that it's really not needed since that writing has been there since what feels like the dawn of time and he knows that the only thing he'll end up buying is a special mix latte and maybe a muffin or something small and chewy like that…

"Um, excuse me, but it's your turn in line," a little feminine voice speaks up from behind him and he snaps out of reading the awful print to turn his head and be met with a set of doe eyes that are equal, if not completely alike, to the ones he's been forced to look at for near two weeks. Only, these eyes register some fear after a second and he actually realizes he's seen the eyes and the face and the figure of the young woman before him. And then a sort of smirk slithers to his lips and he wishes it was the President instead.

"Thank you, Miss Wazzo," he says, earning himself an angry frown and his own self-gratification because she acts so like Winema that this might just end with him walking away unharmed and her either really annoyed or pissed looking instead of him getting tossed around by her own little form out of her costume and in simple black pants, boots and white turtleneck. He would much prefer the former.

He steps up in line though, and she takes one huge step forward, ready for a fight just by looking at him, "What the…" the word sprock catches in her throat and is replaced very quickly, "Fuck are you doing here?"

"Why, I'm getting a hot drink, a treat and groceries around the city, as you can see," he said, holding up his bag and shaking it just under her chin so she can see inside while he orders his blended latte, a hearty chocolate muffin, an entire wrapped carrier box of mixed donuts and a tin box of chocolate caramel popcorn that he still had no idea why the manager thought to sell in a caffeine shop, but seemed to sell anyway, despite the odds of it actually being sold in bulk.

Tinya swatted at the offending bag as he paid the fee and took his place at the front of his line, ordering herself a peppermint cappuccino and a straight up black coffee with strawberry cookies that, Londo could guess, were not for her, paid and waited beside the scientist while continuing to talk—or rather—question him.

"You'd better not be here for Brin again or I swear to God—You are here for him, aren't you? You sick, sociopathic, puny little—"

He can't help but find himself laughing a little before he can stop it and as his order comes up, he has to stifle himself before she shoves one of those boots up his ass. He can't help it, though. She has the same damn voice and even the same mannerisms of the Madame President that it's impossible not to find it rather comical. She even popped into his personal space like the woman.

"No, my dear," he says after allowing her to get her own things and follow him outside like a little angry kitten that's gotten its tail stepped on, her little cookie sack swinging in her hand and her coffees clutched in her hands like a choke-hold, "I'm just here for shopping. Nothing to do with…"

He pauses in his steps and he looks over at her, eyes suddenly quite wide in realization and looking at the cookies and the black coffee cup in her hand like they're some kind of omens delivered by fate. She pauses in her steps as well and looks at him, confused.

"…Brin?" Tinya finished the sentence for him, some of her wrath put away for now at the look on his face. It's different than the time she saw him when Timber Wolf was chased by the Legion. More human in a way that made her step a little closer when he shuffled his food in his arms.

"Mm? No! No, just here for shopping. Um," Londo says, spinning on his heal a bit, "Which way do I go to avoid running into any of your Legion? I won't bother Brin, I…I have too much to do. I won't bother him."

Tinya doesn't look like she really believes him, but points up the street while she leaves for the Legion headquarters. She gives him one last look with those doe eyes, though and he marches up the hill and by the bodega.

He wonders on the way back to his ship why he bought donuts. He generally doesn't eat the things.