He glared at the gritty brick wall across from him, waiting for his usual clients to trickle out of the clubs. The heavy music still radiated through the damp alley.
What was 'later'?
What did she mean?
Could she have meant that he should come back later that night? Or later that week?
He ran his fingers into his gnarls of hair and pushed the thought from his mind.
He couldn't be distracted about Shilo right now; he was working. He needed to appear charming, regal. He was the Zydrate King after all.
A few stumbling women came out the door; both of them drunk and laughing. Graverobber took in their purposely-shredded clothing and ridiculously pointed heels. What were they trying to achieve in such wild clothing?
One of the women noticed him leaning against the wall.
"Oh hey," She said, looking to her friend, "You need a fix? I'll buy."
He grimaced. Graverobber hated it when people treated him like a vending machine. He was a person, he had rules. The women walked over to him.
"eight units." He says to them. The first woman, who he could now see had purple and green hair along with yellow eyes, takes a step back in surprise.
"Eight? It was four a couple days ago." She bats her false lashes up at him.
"A couple of days ago, you said hello and asked nicely. There's a discount for being polite." He shrugs his shoulders uncaringly. Really he just felt like charging them more because they seemed too drunk to notice.
"I can be polite." Her friend slurred in what he assumed was meant to be a seductive tone. Her head was half shaved and half bright pink and she had enough piercings to be labeled a pin-cushion. Graverobber fixed her with a hard look.
"Eight units." He said again. The women both huffed prudishly.
Suddenly, spending money was enough to sober them up and make them remember they had brains.
"Come on, Bev," The first girl says, "Lets just go grab a bite at Lynn's." She gave Graverobber a sneer before helping her friend stumble down the cobbled stones, their ankles wobbling like the bones were replaced with rubber.
Graverobber watched them, he glanced at the door to the club, heavy music still shaking its hinges. He could stand his ground, sell the rest of his stock, make fifty units and crawl into his dumpster before dawn.
But he doesn't.
Instead he follows the drunk slags down the alley. Slinking through the shadows like a cat, he made it all the way to the curb across from Juicy Lynn's. The blinding pink neon painting the street in a rosy hue.
Tons of people were funneling out the door, the three AM social shift.
Graverobber waited until the crowd had thinned, even making a few sales in the process. When only a few people lingered at the door, He seized the chance to move in.
He had to be careful where he let himself be seen. People knew him, and other people hunted him. One word on the wind could land him in the hands of a horde of GeneCops.
But the diners were harmless.
Half of them were drunk, the other half couldn't afford to get busted any more than him. He made his way to a seat at the counter in front of the big, kitchen doors. Every single thing in the restaurant was broken, rusted, or chipped.
Including the staff.
Half naked women, with scars snaking across their skin, hustled around with notepads. One woman, with ridiculously large, green eyelashes and a pixie cut, red hairdo catches his eye. She smirks, probably mistaking his assessment of her appearance for flirting. She saunters over and Graverobber curses his rotten luck.
"Hey G, don't usually see you in the light, you look good." She winks an enormous, green lash at him. Graverobber squints, he'd probably shot her up before, but every woman looked the same to him.
"Came here to see a friend." He says, lowering his eyes.
"I can be a friend." She leaned across the counter, attempting to give him a clear view. He instead locks eyes with her.
"My friend washes dishes here." He says pointedly.
The waitress straightens up, scoffing, irritated. She turns and opens the kitchen door a crack.
"Nat! Get your scrawny ass out here!" She hollers.
Graverobber raised an eyebrow, maybe more than one girl worked in the kitchen.
"What do you want?" Shilo's voice boomed through the door.
"Visitor." The waitress sneered, letting the door close.
A few seconds later, Shilo comes through the door, seeing him right away.
Her hair was pulled back, stray curls stuck to her forehead and neck, which were soaked with sweat. Her grey tee-shirt had fresh stains across her chest and she had a long, black apron on. She grins at him and Graverobber smiles back without even thinking.
"Fancy seeing you here." She jokes.
"Don't believe we've met, your name is Nat?" He winks at her. Shilo leans in closer.
"Wallace is a well-known name around here. Remember, I was kind of famous once."
Graverobber chuckles.
"So Nat, like the bug?" He asks, Shilo blushes.
"No, more like Nathan." She says softly. His smile disappears. Graverobber looks into her eyes; so deep, so real.
"Hey Nat! is your friend gonna order something?" The waitress leans on the other end of the counter, another girl flanking her. They snicker as Shilo glares back at them.
"How about you shut the fuck up Aldee? I'm talking." She says, cocking her hip.
Graverobber's jaw dropped, he'd never heard Shilo curse, or shout, or even look intimidating. With her tiny frame and doe eyes, who would be threatened by that?
But standing as she was now, toe to toe with the scarred and scathing waitress, she looked fiercely predatorial. Aldee looked at her and strut closer.
"Probably just getting your nightly fix, huh Porcelain?" She seethed in Shilo's face. There was no flinch.
"Wanna play Show and Tell again?" Shilo holds up her fists, baring her forearms, clean and flawless. Aldee crossed hers, obviously hiding her many scars and tender bruises.
"You and your boy toy get in back with the rest of the dirty dishes." Was all she said in reply. Shilo gave her a sharp nod before gesturing for Graverobber to follow her to the kitchen.
He said nothing but made a mental note that this particular Z-addict would never get a drop of his stuff again.
The kitchen was a death trap, Graverobber gawked at the greasy dishes stacked up to the ceiling. They teetered next to a giant rusty fridge and an enormous oven that spewed black smoke into a giant hood-fan above them. His eyes settled on Shilo as she moved over to the long steel, sink that lined the far wall. A giant hose hung above her head and Graverobber snickered as he watched her climb up on a tiny stepstool so she could reach.
"What are you laughing at?" She called over to him. He tried to cover the sound with a cough as he leaned against a nearby counter.
"Nothing at all." He said with his slyest grin. Shilo rolled her eyes and turned her attention to the industrial sized dishwasher. The steam clung to her hair and beaded on her neck, Graverobber swallowed hard remembering how she'd looked sprawled out beneath him.
"So seriously," Shilo started, yanking him out of his memory, "Why are you here?"
Graverobber shrugged, making an effort to be casual.
"You said you'd see me later." He winked at her, "It's later."
Shilo let out a short laugh, but Graverobber could see the faint pink blush start in her cheeks before she turned to hide her face.
"Will I see you later… at my house?" She said, barely a whisper. Graverobber's mouth felt dry.
He crossed the space between them and leaned in, placing a soft hand on Shilo's shoulder.
"What time are you done?" He asked.
"Six." She breathed, leaning into his touch.
"I'll be there." He said, quickly kissing the back of her neck before darting out the kitchen doors.
The bitch waitress may have called something to him, but Graverobber couldn't hear.
In a few hours Shilo would be coming home, and he'd be there waiting for her.