The still night held the diner in a wrap of seclusion. Only the artificial light illuminated the lonesome streets, that no one dared to face in a captivatingly sinful metropolis as this. No one dared... yet those whom have dared before.
She quietly stirred her apricot tea, listening to the tick and tock of an extremely frenzied-looking cat clock. She was quietly sitting in her usual spot along the bar, cautiously waiting for an appropriate time to leave back to the Club. Juri hadn't given her a specific time, however, the business matters she had to handle seemed of great caliber. It was good to wait approximately thirty minutes, at the least.
"Road rage," sighed the lovably-chubby owner of the quaint establishment, as he leaned against the bar. Utena snapped out of her current state of speculation, only to hear the soft hum of a team of passionate automobiles, some miles off. It seemed that every night was the same; constantly spent in agony. However, it wouldn't be like that for her. This city of at-one-time-dreams would be that of idealization, whether her vision was construed of not.
Nothing seemed to be of excitement at the moment; Utena slightly-chuckled at the fact that poor Wakaba was left alone in the wrath of the panther. However, she had faith. Though not a first glance, Wakaba was one of the most vigorous people she had become acquainted with.
Still, Utena had her troubles to deal with... She was still speculate about Miss Juri even giving her time to attend her "mother's" funeral. Though the matter wasn't that great, it was worth a shot. Also... somewhere in the back of her mind nagged her to ask about the unfathomable door that she and her fellow friend has encountered. But, get real. It wasn't her business, whatever lay behind it.
For once, she decided not to follow her conscience. And a bad decision, that may have been...