A door opens, the little bell chimes and I'm awash with easy listening lift-worthy easy listening inoffensive jazz.

I shuffle along to the counter and order "One chai latte please". That's when I notice the eyes. The only problem with a disguise is that it's always a self-portrait. And the eyes always give it away.

They hesitate an instant before attacking. I hold up my hand. "Let's not do this. Not this time. I just want my chai latte. Please let me enjoy this. If you want I can fit you in for a 15:30, bit now I'm just in the mood for a chai latte and some damn peace and quiet." Our previous meeting ended up with the destruction of another of my favorite haunts and this place may be the last place for halfway decent chai latte.

They make the tiniest of nods. "One chai latte coming up. Can I interest you in Norah Jones' latest album?" I decline politely and check out.

She prepares my drink and as I leave the counter meekly smiling, she flashes the tiniest bit of mirth. I try my chai and find it decent, maybe even borderline great. I look back, genuinely surprised. "It was you all along?

"Always have been".