Dates: October 6 and 8.
What: Simon tries to keep his head down.
[ooc: This is a completely open post! Come torment him.]

Covent Garden - Late Evening

Starbucks closed at ten most evenings, and given Simon's class schedule he tended to work closing shifts. That suited him just fine. During peak tourist season it tended to be crowded late at night, but weeknights were almost pleasant now that they were well into October. Tonight, the shop was almost deserted, save for a table of Korean tourists off in a corner, and they'd been nursing their drinks and chatting for over an hour now. Simon was thoroughly bored. He snuck a peek at the phone he'd secreted away in his apron pocket: 21:22. Only forty more minutes until he could kick them out and start closing up shop. Only an hour and a half until he could go home and start drafting that Craigslist ad for a new flatmate.

Only eight hours until he had to wake up and be back in the lab.

He sighed and went back to watching the door, hoping no one else came in.


Redbright Institute - Mid-morning

Simon could have been doing any number of things right now--first and foremost among them being sleeping--but for some reason he found himself drawn to Redbright Institute. His feelings about the place were ambivalent at best; sure, they'd helped him through a particularly tough time in his life, but he still found the place intensely weird and a bit uncomfortable. All logic said that magic shouldn't exist outside of fantasy novels and Disney films, and yet here it was. In London.

He strolled through the library, looking for volumes on shapeshifting. He knew there was plenty of lore about people with his particular condition going back centuries, but what he wanted was something that treated the subject a little more objectively. He needed a history.

Simon paused at a likely volume. Maybe this one, finally, contained the answers he was looking for.