Simon pauses outside of the building, his hands stuffed into his pockets. Although snow pelts him and wind whips the fabric of his coat against sodden brick, the young man feels nothing. He sighs, tugging his hood down over tired brown eyes. It's too cold for Katie to be outside anymore, Simon thinks, glancing up at the bright windows of the apartment complex. The temperature has dipped far below zero and the wind chill drops it even further; no sane person would be caught out here. He begins to walk again, boots sinking into the half frozen slush on the sidewalk.
The blizzard will worsen tomorrow. Hopefully Katie will stay safe in all of this snow. Simon shakes his head, grinning faintly to himself. Of course she will. She can take care of herself. The smile fades quickly and he keeps trudging onwards. Katie doesn't need him or the Clan anymore. Simon reaches the door of a weather-beaten shop, hauling it open and ducking inside. The warm air smells of mulling spices; with a small snort, he sticks his head into the opening of the kitchen.
"It's good to see you, Mackenzie," Simon says, waving at the red-haired chef. She's surrounded by batter bowls and half-filled pie tins and mugs of cider waiting on trays. As she hears him approach, Mackenzie turns, beaming as she sets down a spatula.
"Simon! It's been too long! Where've you been?" Mackenzie leans against the counter, dusting flour from her hands.
"Around." Simon picks up a sodden rag, dropping it into a bucket as he walks to the coat closet. She sighs, following him to the closet as he divests himself of the icy trench coat.
"Watching for Katie again? She's not coming back, you know." Mackenzie watches him, a guarded look settling in her eyes. "The Crows are going to need to fly again. The Clan thinks they've found a hidden bloodline and they want to test the poor sod."
He winces, straightening the his dark tunic. Simon steps around Mackenzie, avoiding her gaze. "The Crows cannot fly in any less than a murder and the Clan knows that. Unless they've found a suitable...replacement, the Crows cannot fly."
Mackenzie is silent as Simon weaves his way through the cluttered kitchen. She raps her knuckles against the counter. The dull thumping makes him feel faintly ill, but he turns his head back to her. "I'll see you in training, Kenzie."
She doesn't answer, bent over a lump of dough once more. The room doesn't seem welcoming anymore.
