Trying unsuccessfully to hide a mouth-splitting yawn behind one gloved hand, Dante carelessly dumped his meager belongings into the back of the vehicle, already missing the speed and mobility of his battered motorcycle. Early mornings, or even mornings in general, were not his thing. Completely ignoring Lev and the man apparently named Diogenes, Dante slumped against the wall and fished out a crumpled piece of paper from within his pockets. I guess I should make sure having other people around won't be a problem, he thought as he focused as much as he could on telekinetically lifting the scrap off the ground.