The café Maxine picked as her definitely not stalking spot had the standard vaguely industrial, bicycles on the ceiling decor that had been fashionable a few years earlier. Maxine remembered it being a fast food burger joint five years ago, but there were ten burger joints in a two block radius, it made sense that not all of them survived. There was an attractive woman in line for coffee, long glossy nails, sweet smile, the loveliest weekend business-woman suit. Maxine was about to offer the woman a bit of harmless flirtation when the barista said a loud, flat, "No."

"No what?" Maxine asked, blinking in confusion. She couldn't think of any reason she would get kicked out of a place she hadn't even had a chance to order coffee in yet, but she had no idea what was happening.

"No, you're not flirting in my establishment. I know you've made it your goal in life to sleep your way through the Northern suburbs, but keep that to bars."

"I really just wanted a flat white," Maxine said.

The barista snorted and moved to the coffee machine.

Maxine stood there, entirely unsure if she had just managed to order or not. She looked at the barista in depth – tall and lean, the name tag on her tank top said 'Jessica' and she had the standard undercut, tattoo sleeve, thick rimmed glasses look. Maxine couldn't remember meeting her before, but that didn't mean anything. She met hundreds of people a year between work and bars. Definitely didn't think she had enough hook ups to deserve the censure.

Jessica slammed a takeaway coffee mag in front of Maxine. "Seven fifty."

"Wow, inflation," Maxine said, laughing a sharp laugh as she got out her credit card. "Have a nice day."

The business woman laughed too, so Maxine favoured her with a smile and nod as she picked up her cup and turned around to survey the premises.

She leaned against the wall next to a rack full of postcards advertising local plays and hard rubbish pick up days, and watched the door for as long as she could get away with. Just as she was ready to put the cup in the bin and pretend to be a normal patron, her patience was rewarded, the front door jangling as Tori walked in the place.

Maxine couldn't help but smile.

Tori was hunched over in layers of boring grey clothing that looked like it didn't fit. Maybe it belonged to the woman coming in behind her with a sour, pinched expression, that same woman in all the photos. But maybe it was just the outward expression of the way Tori was acting like she didn't fit in her body, clothing to match the way she moved like she was trying to be small and unimposing and blandly conventional. But she couldn't escape Maxine's eyes. She still had that something, that glow.

Tori looked up and saw her, eyes getting big. Maxine tried to look like she was surprised but she was never good at acting; she was pretty sure something about her face landed on smug instead.

Tori was frozen in place until the woman behind her pushed her forward. Tori stumbled; Maxine's fist clenched. She smiled and drank the dregs of her coffee, cursing herself for not coming up with a better plan. This was the real reason she didn't do much field work, even though her power made her otherwise perfect for it.

Tori shuffled over toward her. "Why are you here?" she hissed, pulling at her mess of hair.

"I have your shoe," Maxine said.

The woman behind Tori raised an eyebrow. "Why does this strange woman have your shoe?"

"You can keep the shoe. I don't need it back," Tori said.

"I'm not a foot fetishist," Maxine said. "I don't need your shoe."

At that moment Maxine realised she wasn't sure what she did need from Tori. How embarrassing.

"Uh, so..." Maxine trailed off, unsure how to proceed.

A scrappy little slip of a thing bumped into Tori and she flinched from the knock, hunching over into herself. Her hands clenched into fists and she dropped her wallet on the tile floor. The scrappy little thief hunched down to grab it and started to scuttle off.

"Not today," Maxine said, stomping her foot on his ankle so he couldn't get away.

"Uh..." Tori said.

"You might want to pick your wallet up from the Artful Dodger before my foot gets tired," Maxine said.

"Fine," Tori said. "I'll meet you. Not now, but..." She searched frantically in the inner pockets of her drab oversized cardigan for something, then scribbled something on a bit of card. '7.30pm, the bar out the back.'

"I'll give it back!" the man on the floor screeched. He put the wallet on a nearby table and Maxine eased the pressure on his ankle just enough that he could scuttle away.

"You can... You can bring the shoe," Tori said. She wiped off the wallet with a napkin, then clenched it in bony fingers.

Maxine flipped the card over. 'Victoria Webster, Accounts Officer'. Sensible job.

"Fine, see you then," she said, nodding.

Tori stepped back, allowing Maxine room to move. At the counter, the barista was glaring daggers at Maxine.

"I'm leaving, I'm leaving," Maxine said, and left.