He must have passed by the restaurant a hundred times on his way home from work, but he's never gone inside - not until tonight. Tonight, as he approaches, his instincts begin to mutter somewhere deep in the back of his mind, and if there's one thing he's learned over the course of his very long existence, it's that when he ignores his instincts, things tend to go badly. He's no Kuwabara, that's for sure (and oh, the thought of his old friend is an ache in his heart that he thinks will never heal), but those whispering voices, those feelings still show up every now and then, and he readjusts his steps without a second thought. It's not as if a bowl of something hot will do him any harm.

When he walks in and is greeted by a waitress who takes him to a small table, he does a quick, automatic scan of the place - his body does it almost without his knowledge whenever he enters a building: marking exits, places for cover, making note of potential threats. His eyes pass right over the woman sitting by the window, because...well, why not? It's been so long that she's passed almost completely from his mind, and he certainly never entertained the thought of what she might look like were they ever to meet again. So she is simply cataloged as another face in the crowd - a bit of an oddity, considering she is noticeably not Japanese, but certainly no one he needs to spare more than a passing thought.

So he sits, and the waitress pours him a cup of tea, which he cradles between his palms while he waits for whatever it is that's supposed to happen.