The Chariot ; The Backstreets; Orion street corner
There was no Strength in the rain. For some reason, this absence, and obvious abscond to the interior of the coffee shop, made Chariot smirk. It seemed even the mighty had fallen to the weather. Pretending to hunch into his coat, he slipped easily under the eaves of the coffee shop door, loitering there a moment as another man passed him. Pulling the flames of his powers out, underneath the clothes, he dried himself off slightly, allowing the flames to be mostly dampened by the soaked clothing and wet atmosphere.
Shaking himself off like a wet dog, Chariot swooped into the shop. The coat sitting on his shoulders, although without arms in the sleeves, hung surprisingly stiffly for what it should have endured, and the hair was perhaps a little too dry, but only the close observer would notice the slightly off details.
Moving quietly, swiftly, up towards the counter, he pretended to completely ignore the current conversation between the server girl and the man whose mere presence seemed to single him out from the entire customer base. 'One cup coffee, black, no sugar, cream.'
The words were like an incision into the flow of casual talk, like a sergeant barking orders, except with less force and volume. 'The ride is tough out there.' The casual remark was as he turned away, moving towards an empty table at the back, glancing once over his shoulder with a slight smirk. He wondered if Strength got the small reference or not. At least he'd recognise the cold voice of the Chariot, for it hardly changed from voice chat to actual conversation.