It was a stormy night, the thunder crackled vaguely in the distance—the moon shone ominously as rain fell down from the crying night sky. Somehow, someway, you found yourself arriving at a café called—The Weathervane. You walked in, the warmth instantly hitting you and seeping into your cold, drenched bones. The cafe was warmly lit and the cold rain was nothing but a vague pattering against the windows now. You slipped into a booth and almost instantly, a young man walked up to you. He let out a low whistle, his head tilting slightly as his olive eyes roamed over your drenched figure, “Looks like someone got caught in the rain. You want a warm coffee with that? One of the many perks of this wonderful job.” Xavier said with a slight scoff.