After his recent activities (getting thrown through windows and tag-team murdering his helpless platonic nemesis and the like), Eridan had decided to maybe settle down for a bit. Take a break, get back to his plotting, let the shit settle and deal with Sollux when he came back from the dead pissing and moaning about having his eyes cut out or something else stupid like that. He inevitably would, if he came back at all. He'd remind himself of the simpler pleasures of life, like a good coffee on a Friday morning.

That was what he was planning for today, strolling into the mouth of a somewhat shady alleyway and stepping airily over a broken bottle. It was the normal route he took to the local Starbucks, and despite it being a relatively isolated alley in a big, crime-infested city, Eridan was confident enough in the quickness of his wand hand to ward off any would-be attackers.

There certainly weren't any people in the City wanting his blood or anything, or at least none that could ever take him on. Never.