There's a small cafe near the Down Public Housing building--close enough that the coffee can be smelled on the wind in the mornings. Quentin's passing it by, on the way home from somewhere or other, and may be surprised to find a barista in a Cafe LeBlanc apron on break in front of the building, sipping a cuppa of his own and smoking a cigarette.

Perhaps even more surprising, the barista in question is a Dominant. A lanky man only a few inches taller than Quentin, he has his hair back in a tidy braid (as is appropriate while working around food), and is dressed in black clothes under his apron, with a botanical tattoo of some sort visible on his right arm under the rolled-up sleeve of his button-down shirt.

As he sees Quentin, he lifts his cup in a casual salute. "How's it hangin'?"