Disclaimer: I make no profit therefore, if you sue me, you will gain nada


I'm sitting at a small outdoor café on a Saturday afternoon when a flash of red catches my attention.

I look up from my sandwich and see you across the street from me at a similar eatery taking your coat off.

You're all fluid grace and cocky bravado.

You are alone when you arrive but that doesn't last long and I'm not surprised. A bashful looking young woman approaches you and looks to be asking you a question. You reply, but she gives you a puzzled look so you stand up, point towards Central city's clock tower and start talking again. She's shaking her head and your gestures grow broad. Soon she's laughing and you smile in response. From what I can gather, she thanks you and shakes your hand before moving on.

You return to your seat to stare at the menu. When the server comes to your table, you order quickly and as soon as she turns her back, you pull a book out of your coat pocket and start to read. I shake my head and try to focus on my own cooling lunch before I'm caught staring. Not that you'd ever figure out why I'm staring, but that fact is beside the point, I don't want to risk it.

Not even ten minutes later I can't help but look up and nothing with you has changed. You are nose deep in your book and you would have remained that way, but your food arrives. You dig in with your normal enthusiasm causing me to smile. Just as I start to turn away, another familiar face shows up. He's standing a few tables away and you don't even notice him.

Good.

He watches you for a few moments before he makes his presence known. He helps himself to a seat while making, what I assume is small talk with you. Even from across the street, I can see those golden eyes narrow at him and I am convinced my gut instinct is right.

You were not expecting him and he is not exactly welcome.

It is obvious to me you came to eat and read. Since Al is not with you, I'm assuming you wanted to do those two things alone. My appetite is gone so I pile my food on a tray, weave through the tables and dump the cold stuff in the garbage.

With one last glance across the street, I see him tapping on the book that's now face down on your table. He's up to something and I have a damn good idea what that something is.