Nicola-Trevisani had found such success with her currently operating coffee shop, The Daily Grind, in Chicago that when she realized she spent a vast majority of her time in Detroit, it would be perfect for a second operation to be set up. Plus, she needed somewhere to go to get her daily fix of caffeine as the former Coffee shop and bar had tragically been destroyed. Repeatedly.

A man she didn't recognize had been dragged away from the premises shouting about ruffians, hooligans' and weirdly enough basketball. It didn't make sense to her, but the large "For Sale" Sign on the beautiful brick building, built sometime in the 1800s she would guess, which that in of itself was a miracle, had creeping ivy crawling up the sides and covering over some of the large ornate windows that graced the front. 

The awning over the door had been torn, dangling down and flapping in the wind. That would need to be replaced, much like the majority of the interior. The few chairs and tables, and private back booths certainly would not do. Making a list of tasks for the upcoming reopening she sent her trusted Bodyguard, her voice, off to start getting things done while she herself headed to the bank to pull out the funds needed, and then City-Hall in order to purchase the deed to this horribly neglected but full of potential building. 

Several weeks later the interior had been completed gutted, leaving over the original 1800s hardwood floors that had been sanded down and re-polished to bring them back to their original splendor. It wasn't often parquet flooring was found in Detroit, but apparently this was an exception to what she knew.  

The interior had been painted a lovely sage green color, the wood panels on the lower half of the walls just given a polish and shine. While some were dinged up and scuffed, she liked the character that it brought to the building. The aim of the the interior was atmosphere, something that this building had been lacking from the previous owner. The charm and character of something from the 1800s was not enough to entice people in, which is why the entire interior had been gutted, torn-down and left in the scrap heap. 

Nicola-Trevisani had transformed the interior from a shoddy coffee shop and bar, to a place where you could meet with friends, hide away from the world with a book, and all the while enjoy some excellent coffee and delicious baked goods. No two chairs or sofas were the same. Each had its own color, fabric, style, but they were all comfortable to encourage patrons to stay just a little bit longer, perhaps another coffee or two.  The small serving counter had two coffee pots, a display for the offerings in terms of treats and a sign that read, "Additional seating & Books upstairs." 

The beautiful ornate staircase that had been ignored by the previous owner was polished, a new runner of forest green carpet descended down the center of it, lead to the second level where larger bookshelves were located. Where the seating downstairs was more open, while still being intimate, the seating up here was strictly for privacy and moments of contemplation with a delicious cup of coffee and a muffin. Another counter was off to the side with coffee, although no baked goods. 

Nicola-Trevisani poured herself a cup of coffee and settled into her favorite chair, it was an oversized and overstuffed lounge chair that looked like an American without an ounce of class tried to create a Victorian style seat, and it was absolute bliss to curl up and read in. One of the stray cats hopped in Nicola-Trevisani's lap as she settled herself with a book, waiting for the first customers to show. 

The place had been reborn, and through a lot of effort, some decent funds and a large imagination, Nicola-Trevisani managed to bring her vision to life. 

The impeccably attired gentleman had been harassed through the streets after his speech. He had managed to sneak away down a back alley where he met up with Conqueeftador who was beating on some Las Vegas chump. 

"How you doing mate?"

Conqueeftador turned to face the man with his eyes glowing with rage. He quickly calmed down and regained his composure. It turned out that Conqueeftador was headed to a new coffee shop to fulfil an order. Nicola-Trevisani has asked him to down by with is prize winning aubergines and watermelons that she admired greatly. 

They entered into the building. It was quite. Surprisingly quiet but it was nice for a change after the hustle and bustle of the previous days and thankfully there was not a goat in sight. There had been a lotta talk of goats lately. More than usual. 

"I think we will sit in these chairs, you take the pink one, its always suited you better". 

The two men settled in and waited to order. It might take a while but the chairs were extremely comfortable and provided an opportunity to hide away from all the excitement and talk of lawyers. 

Conqueeftador straighten his leisurewear and sat down with BBB. "Ah lovely place you picked here. I could use a nice coffee and croissant after the day I've had." 

Conqueeftador waved at Nicola-Trevisani who perked up when they walked into the room. No doubt alerted to his presence by the shifting floorboards and heavy footsteps. This seems like a much nicer place than when it was owned by the great betrayer, D0m3n1c. COnqueeftador enjoyed the mismatch of furniture as it reminded him of the mismatch of people in Detroit. 

Focusing his attention back to BBB. 

"Seems like quite the stir going on with these basketball teams. So you really think that Las Vegas will start their own league?"

"I dunno mate, I dunno if they have the balls over there to do it. We might have to send some over along with the goats". 

He looked around and admired the place. It was a nice place alright. Thank god it had been taken over by fair more respectable management. 

He turned back to Conqueeftador

"Do you think Nicola-Trevisani might be able to help us get a BBB branch set up in Chicago? I know Illuminatiated is a big supporter of ours so Im sure he would approve, but I think we need on the ground help and local knowledge. He might be too busy being important to help us plebs"

He lent back in the chair and admired his reflection in his perfectly mirror shined shoes. If only Void was came to visit this place. He could spread the word to the rebel alliance within Las Vegas and maybe they could get a nice place like this. 

Void had heard that besides the wonderful Public Library and the slightly disappointing "Vegas Only" (which had not at all lived up to its name) another shop had opened up in the rough streets of Detroit.

This shop was likely to be one of the few rare places in Detroit where one could kick back and relax instead of getting your face beaten in over disputes about the optimal bounciness of a basketball or some other nonsense. He could only hope that this time it wouldn't be ravaged by the human wrecking ball sometimes referred to as Headcoach.

Void slipped into the establishment and waddly-doo'ed to the counter like somekind of penguin, noticing some Detroit fellows sitting in the corner. After spotting the Detroit Ruffians he pretended not to notice them and quickly turned towards Nicola-Trevisani.

"Ah, the bliss of a good mug of coffee after a day's work. You often hear people say that 'one should not drink coffee in the evening' but I have personally never had any issue with it. There's only one thing that I like more than regular coffee though, and that would be the Irish variant. I know that this isn't a bar, but do you serve Irish Coffee here?"