Night was approaching. An orange Sun resting far afield to the west behind a sea of clouds that absorbed the subtle pink radiance of the atmosphere. The image reflected beautifully from Amon's gray optics. He looked down into the stillness of his coffee, staring back at himself with a stern expression. With the tall finger of his right hand wrapped loosely around ear of his cup, he began to tap his index against the gold-lined brim of the white piece, observing  the undulation in the black liquid from the point of impact, rippling to the other side only to bounce back; catching the next set of waves from his continuous regulated tapping. They fought in the middle; disrupting that calmness that once was once present. It was only after he'd cease would it revert back to its gentle lull; allowing Amon to once again gaze down upon himself clearly, and the gorgeous light that was cast in his eyes. With a disconsolate sigh he'd leisurely depress his lids, settling the glass cup upon his lips. Amon would pause, letting the aroma of the strong coffee permeate his nose before ingesting the dark fluid. The hot liquid coursing along his tongue and down his throat brought a fleeting relaxation; a brief refuge from war he fought within the confines of his own consciousness. If it were only that simple. He thought, lowering the cup onto its plate. The Investigator leaned back into his chair, rotating his torso enough to give a restful gaze through the establishment's immense windowpane as he began to contemplate on those he had lost around him. Could I have? In defiance of his own great consummations he questioned his actions with a harsh denigration. He was a man haunted by his own mind, searching for all the answers; bound by duty; lost to himself.