Thank you to everyone for being patient with me. On top of a number of increasingly stressful months at work, I have just been put in charge of training other people as well.

To those of the P&P fandom who read these non-P&P fics and feel disappointed: I write to relax and where the muses take me, which at the moment is the Silmarillion/Tolkien fandom. As for OMD and AWAR, I'll get there; don't rush the magicwoman, you'll get bad magic. And please don't leave reviews here asking for updates on other stories unless you leave a legitimate review of this one as well.

And given I seem to write/update things in the weeks when I have big presentations, you can potentially expect something (can't promise exactly what) posted the week of April 14th.

As we walked back to the building from the coffeeshop, my old boss looked at me, probably noting I was a little put off. "Did you know him?"

I shook my head. "He just sat down."

He gave me the same look he gave me when I hedged about handing in a paper late. He obviously didn't believe me, but for once he wasn't going to invoke the Spanish Inquisition. Instead, we talked about dogs and the most recent seminar speaker's absolutely adorable bouncing hair until we split ways between our respective buildings.

Later that day, I was heading to my car to go home when I had the distinct feeling I was being watched. I looked around, my hands going to my keys, but I didn't see anything of note. Blaming my paranoia on being weirded out during the day, I went home, read through Tumblr, brushed my teeth and went to bed.

The next morning when I opened my wallet (yes, coffee again) I found a piece of napkin with a time and a place scribbled on it in what was a very neat, tight hand. Aside from understanding it wasn't mine or anyone else's writing that I recognized, I knew it was his writing.

I don't know what came over me or why I was being so clearly stupid, but I did meet him at the restaurant that evening. He had made a reservation, apparently, at one of the semi-nicer places in town for a busy time on a busy evening. Either he was just being kind to my sensibilities or maybe he was being kind to his own. I was glad there was a crowd, as I don't know if I could have handled being there with him nearly alone.

I opened the door, a chilly gust of air after me from the fall evening. I grimaced at the breeze and the hostess smiled at me indulgently and offered to take my coat. Though I took a moment to actually let go of it when she tugged at it, she hung it on the rack behind the podium. I mentioned there was a reservation for me, but I didn't know if the gentleman was there yet. I realized again how odd this had to look, and that this whole situation really sounded like some crazy, weird blind date. I must have looked really miserable and nervous. I saw something change in her face and move towards pity and told me a gentleman had already shown up and mentioned he was waiting for someone of about my description. After a few moments to let me breathe, she led me back to a corner table where a man was sitting by himself. Though the rest of the restaurant was somewhat busy, there was a buffer ring of tables around ours. Not gonna lie, I was a little shocked to find he had left me the corner seat with my back to the walls. Pleasantly surprised, though.

He half stood up at our approach, a small smile on his face as well as apparent relief at my actually showing up. He nodded to the hostess, who smiled to me and mentioned to us our server would be over soon.

When I was settled into the seat, I studied his face as he watched the table. He played with his cloth napkin-wrapped silverware with one hand. I got the distinct feeling he was doing this intentionally, letting me see and observe him so I could grow comfortable with him there. I took advantage.

His face was attractive but framed with dark brown almost black hair cut so that it seemed as if he was permanently sad. He had high cheekbones, a long and aristocratic nose and the same dark blue eyes I had noticed a few days before. It was a pretty regal build, though I couldn't peg his ancestry to any particular region. His expression was thoughtful but when he glanced up at the approach of the waiter from behind him, his face momentarily became hard and calculating. It seemed to be reflex, as the look went away as quickly as it appeared. It was clear to me that though he had let me sit in the corner, he himself would have been much more comfortable there. I almost considered offering to switch with him, trying to think of an excuse he would believe.

The waiter missed all of the man's changes in facial expression through focusing instead on his notebook, which was probably a good thing. He offered us menus and went over the specials. After a very fast glance at the wine list, my, uh… friend ordered a rather expensive bottle of wine and two glasses and the waiter went off to the cellar leaving us with our menus. I blanched slightly, knowing the wine was way out of my price range for my half, but he gave me a look that silenced any protest on my lips. The look communicated he wanted good wine and yes, I was going to drink it too. I sighed and nodded.

I opened my menu and read through the options. Though this restaurant was quite close to my work, this was only the second or third time I'd come here. This was when he returned the favor of studying my face. I pretended not to notice, though I'm pretty sure I turned red. So far so good, but we both knew that actual words and conversation had to follow.

The waiter reappeared with our wine glasses and made a show of opening the bottle. He poured a taste and after a quick approval from the guy across from me (man how this felt like a weird blind first date… eeeeep), two full glasses were poured. We ordered our meals and the waiter disappeared again. Since he had ordered red wine, I let it sit as was proper and instead took a sip of my water. I knew my hands were shaking and there was an audible clack when the water glass hit my front tooth. I winced slightly, but it was the thing both of us needed. I relaxed at my clumsiness. He sent me an apologetic look and mentioned that he did not want me to feel on edge. He meant me no harm. His eyes met mine, but that was again all it was and nothing of the glue and brain-scrambling variety.

I thought his words were a little old-fashioned but they were helpful nonetheless. I mean, I guess they were comforting in a "he's still probably a mass axe-murderer" kind of way. From the other day at the coffeeshop as well as a few of the other mannerisms he had shown so far tonight, I got the vibe from this guy there was a lot more to him than he tried to let on.

"I did not think you would come here."

"Well, neither did I, really," I responded with a shrug and a somewhat forced grin. "My feet decided and I kinda just showed up."

He smiled, and I noticed his pleasantly straight white teeth for the first time. I felt marginally better that those pearly whites weren't filed into points or anything.

"So," I ventured, picking up my wine glass and swirling it. This conversation had to go somewhere. "What can I call you?" I knew he wasn't going to give me his real name so I didn't ask for it.

He gave me a sideways nod of understanding. "William."

A pause. "So what do you do, William?"

He glanced questioningly at me. I doubted he would tell me the truth. "I am into investments and import/export; I work in a number of markets. Currently, I am consulting for the law school on campus."

That sounded truthful enough although the import/export answer ranged all the way from stuffed teddy bears to teddy bears stuffed with cocaine, but if he worked for the law school, it was likely on the more legitimate end of that spectrum. We chatted about basically nothing for a few minutes before the waiter returned with our salads and some bread. I was almost impressed by our synchronous tactics.

I moved a few things off to the side from my salad (I've never trusted anything made from cucumbers) and he held up a buttered piece of bread. I looked between him and it a moment before taking it from him. He was acting the gentleman, and with a small shake of the bread requested that I allow it. This was not supposed to be a romantic dinner, though the appearance of two similarly aged people at an isolated table in a corner of a nice restaurant did lead to a number of popular expectations.

"What made you show up today, Aly?" His voice was nonchalant, though I could also hear the curiosity in it. Pretense was over, though I wasn't going to let him entirely steer the conversation.

"I was interested. You are interesting."

"How so?"

I studied his face a moment, trying to determine how sincere he was in his question. Normally, if you call someone interesting, they take it as a compliment and move on. He wanted to hear my answer. "You're different, somehow. I can't really say exactly how at the moment." I munched on salad and thought on it. "I think the best way I can say it is you act." He frowned slightly and sipped his wine to try to cover it. "You want to look normal, but you're not. You want people to think you are just another person, but, really, you're something else."

He heard the slight compliment here. "And you picked up on that rather quickly, I believe."

I grinned. "Well, I like to watch people, and you certainly make it interesting."

"Is interesting your favorite word?" William tipped his wine glass at me, one side of his mouth raising up in a lopsided grin. Was he teasing me?

I felt myself bunch up my nose like I do when a joke hits the mark, so I guess he was teasing me. "Well, it doesn't really make the top of my list, but if the shoe fits…." I trailed off. After a few moments of openly studying his face again, I asked him why he came to sit at my table the other day. He cocked his head to the side, very similar to how he had done then.

He slowly grinned. "I was interested."

I laughed, but I was not about to be put off. I gave him a look that I knew communicated I wasn't satisfied with his answer. Trying to give the appearance of nonchalance, I sipped my wine for the first time. Stuff was amazing.

"You see more than most people," he commented quietly, taking a disproportionate amount of interest in the saltshaker, spinning it like a top below one finger. "You also have a clarity about you that I do not often observe among the general populace."

"Clarity?" I truly had no idea what he meant by that.

"You are… more… aware, I suppose. You see others' behavior and read into it. You are receptive to habits and feelings. You…" he paused and our eyes met again. His eyes searched mine, pleading for my understanding. "You remind me of someone I knew a very, very long time ago."

I watched him for a moment, a little taken aback by his rather forthcoming answer. I didn't really know what he meant, but I somehow knew it had taken more than a little bit of trust in me for him to say that.

I looked up at the waiter and threw on a quick happy-as-can-be smile when he came to collect our salad plates. I had recovered from that little heart-to-heart much faster than William did, though he did something similar a moment later as he moved his hands out of the way for his plate to be removed.

He looked a little sheepish while he filled my wineglass again. I looked across the room to see a couple receive their dessert (chocolate something or other complete with a mini sparkler… want) and a family party look excited as their entrées were served. He watched my face, but William seemed recovered when he spoke. "So what is something so interesting about me?"

"Narcissistic much?" I chuckled and he gave me what is best described as an indignant look. I rolled my eyes after a moment. "Fine. You're tall."

A look of pure skepticism crossed his face. "I'm tall. That is why I'm interesting?"

It was my turn to look indignant. "No, well, yes." I paused, thinking of the best way to phrase it. "You're tall. Yes, other people are tall as well, but that's… that's not it. You try not to be tall, so I guess that's not entirely it. You try to fade into the background but to me you never could, no matter how you tried. For example you, uh, you slouch when you stand."

"You have only seen me standing the one time," he commented, obviously confused.

"Yes, and it was when you put your back to a corner and you staked out the exits and the patrons in a well-lit and densely populated coffeeshop. That is a habit you clearly have had for a long time." He nodded at this. "So is slouching. You don't slouch when you're sitting." William pouted at this and clearly put effort into hunching his shoulders. I grinned as I continued pointing at him with my wine and making a show of mimicking him. "You sit all prim and proper with a ramrod straight spine that's not possibly touching the back of your chair. You had to have learned very proper table manners somewhere, which isn't entirely easy to do these days. I mean, you cut your salad." I accentuated this last part so he could know I wasn't being entirely critical. He smiled but gestured for me to continue. "People who don't mind being tall stand tall. You tried so hard not to be seen that you stood out to me immediately. The reason you're interesting is that I'm guessing you have a reason for it and I'm a naturally curious person."

His voice was low and measured when he replied. "How well you know me, for having only known me for the entirety of two hours…"

I felt a cold breeze of air go by me as a large party walked into the room from outside. I shivered and grimaced slightly at the door, which was being held open while the group tried to squeeze and shuffle in. This place had gotten much busier since I arrived and the only tables left open were the ones around us, buffering us from the rest of the restaurant. Watching the hostess shake her head at the people in the door, I guess William truly must have paid off the manager or someone not to fill the tables. The person in front of the group, who I recognized as one of the more successful professors in my department, looked pretty annoyed with the hostess at her answer, especially given the "open" tables enough for their party to sit. I suddenly felt bad for the girl who was sweating it out under the professor's stern countenance. As I surveyed the rest of the party, they were mostly professors from my department and one elderly dude I didn't recognize who was probably a seminar speaker the rest of them were taking out for dinner and drinks (on my tax money, by the way…). The youngest professor in the party, who is friends with my old boss, glanced at me with a questioning look, to which I shrugged. I looked back at William who had once again been studying my face. He looked as if he was sincerely trying to place me as someone whom he'd met before, though I could quite easily tell him that I'd never known him before three days ago. I glanced up at the professors again, hoping that none of the more influential ones would recognize me as I neither wanted to get into trouble with them or have this lead to any questions later.

I decided to plain out ask William if he bought off the tables. "I wanted to ensure us some privacy." Though it was not a definitive yes, it was close enough. We were at a crowded restaurant, in a corner with a buffer of empty tables around us. I wondered what he thought he would hear from me, or what it was he thought he would tell me that was serious enough that he didn't want anyone to overhear.

I shivered again. The door was still open with the crowd of professors standing in it. William's expression changed from complacent to what I can only describe as protective. "They are being very inconsiderate to the other customers by leaving the door open." He shot me a small grin. "They also know you and wonder who it is you are here with as they do not recognize me."

I didn't even take the time to think how he heard them from so far away and with his back mostly turned. Well, they're not the only ones wondering who you are. His body, which he had just turned to partially face the door and glower at the group, snapped back around and he stared at me. I felt his gaze lock with mine, his eyes hard and confused. Knowing he couldn't have heard my thought, I realized I must have murmured how I didn't actually know who this man was. "I'm sorry, I really have to watch what I say out loud," I commented lightly as the waiter walked up to our table with our meals. He set mine down first, followed by William's, both of which looked and smelled amazing. I thanked the waiter and reached for my fork, but William hadn't moved since he had turned to face me again.

"You really are different," he stated, his tone quiet and altogether a little creepy in the way it came across. I really hoped he didn't actually turn out to be an axe-murderer, though a small part of my mind at least told me I would die having had some amazing wine and food first. Traitor, I thought, referring to my own very odd thought pattern on food and my proverbial last supper with an axe-murderer. William, on the other hand, visibly jumped in his chair, his eyes wide. I watched his face as it narrowed into something fierce, and for the first time I was a little afraid of him.

"How dare you say that to me, human," he hissed at me, his eyes narrowed to… wait, no way, glowing slits in a very frightening version of his previously very attractive face. "You know nothing about my past." And now I was scared. Very very scared. And also very confused.

"I didn't say anything," I managed to squeak, ignorant of him calling me 'human' as if he weren't one himself. His gaze felt like it could physically burn my face and I felt the same pull I had the last time when he started searching through my mind. Just after that intense invasion of my mental privacy started, my courage rose again (like I said, I like to think I'm related to Elizabeth Bennet). I glared back at him, rapping my hand on the table and bouncing the silverware. "No…. No. You don't just get to futz through my mind whenever you want to. Stop it," my voice was low and threatening, though I have no idea in the least how I could actually threaten him. I felt the searching end, though I don't think he let me go intentionally. "I didn't call you a traitor, William, I called my own brain one for thinking I could have a nice quaint dinner with someone who I find intriguing without something going catastrophically wrong." A little lie wouldn't hurt either of us, as I didn't think he would currently appreciate being called an axe-murderer. I stood up and tossed my napkin down where I had been sitting, both of our dinners remaining so far untouched. "Which, apparently, was prophetic," I hissed at him, leaning over slightly to glare at him. I have no idea why I would care about his feelings one moment and be so angry with him the next. I tried to walk away, but his hand caught my arm. I pulled my arm away from him as if he had burned me.

"Please, I apologize for my outburst at hearing what you thought. Stay. Please."

I glanced at him, wondering if his words again had the same double-meaning as they generally seemed to. The anger and glowy eyes were gone and I only saw fear and worry on his face. He had heard what I thought? Whoa. I looked around, people were looking at me (including the professors I knew) and I knew I either had to actually leave or think of some excuse to be standing and come back to the table. I made a bee-line for the restroom, which was in the opposite direction from the door. He would get the idea.

Once in the ladies' room, I put my hands on the countertop and let my head drop down between my shoulders. I took a deep breath and waited a moment. What was going on? This was like I got dropped in the middle of a reality TV episode and I was waiting for the cameras to appear and tell me it's all been a big joke for the last three days. I don't remember ever signing a waiver. I should sue. A woman walked out of one of the stalls and gave me a warm smile. I moved over so she could wash her hands.

After an acceptable amount of time, I walked back over to the table, finding William still seated there. A second bottle of wine had appeared, and our plates had disappeared. Having only had the two glasses of wine and the salad, I was hungry and slightly tipsy. When I sat back down, the waiter appeared immediately with our food, which had been taken back to the kitchen to be kept warm. I glanced at William, who offered me a wan but very thankful smile. He poured me a new glass of wine as I settled my napkin back on my lap.

I picked up my fork, so far acting as if nothing untoward had happened. "Let me set something straight, William," I started, trying to put as much stress and feeling as I could into what I was saying without raising my voice or looking unhappy. I stared at him, this time wanting to make sure that he couldn't look away. "I don't know how you do it, but I will not let you muddle with my brain again. From now on, if you want to know something about me, you ask me." I stabbed a piece of chicken and started sawing at it with far more effort than required. "Do we understand one another?"

He nodded. "I am so very sorry." It seemed sincere enough.

"Stop apologizing and eat your food, numnuts." I shoved a mutilated piece of the chicken in my mouth. It would have tasted good if I wasn't still fuming-out-the-ears angry and incredibly more confused than I was letting on. William picked up his utensils and made a half-hearted effort to eat. I could tell he was worried. "Look," I brandished a forked piece of roasted zucchini at him. "I wouldn't have come back if I wasn't curious. This whole circumstance scares me. To be honest, you scare me." He looked up from the waving zucchini chunk to me, his eyes full of hurt. I deflated a little. "I can't figure you out, William. I can't. One minute we're laughing, the next you're treating my head like it's a book. Then you're all apologetic and despondent."

He looked horrid. "I am sor-"

"I said you should stop apologizing." I gave him the smallest of smiles, which I know he saw. He sat there and blinked at me for a little while at which point I popped the zucchini in my mouth and chewed.

Who are you?

If I hadn't been both watching William sitting there in stunned silence and also been in the process of swallowing, I would have showered him in zucchini mini-chunks. His voice had appeared in my head but his mouth, his lips never moved. I stared at him, slackjawed before starting to cough, my ee-so-fay-gus (as my Indian biology professor from undergrad used to say) seemingly having come to a screeching halt with my food halfway to my stomach. I pounded my chest with a fist to get things moving again and with forced calmness took a sip of water. He watched me, nearly as flabbergasted as I was.

"You heard me, did you not?" He already knew the answer, but wanted me to confirm it.

I nodded blankly. "You… just… I… words… in my head. I watched you not talk."

He and I just stared at each other for a moment. Something profound had just happened to both of us and we needed a moment to process. Really, I needed a lot of moments and he didn't look much better than I felt.

"I haven't spoken with anyone like that in a long time," he commented very quietly, so quietly I could barely hear him over the din in the restaurant. "I rationalized hearing your mind away as a coincidence… before. But I see it's not a coincidence anymore."

I looked at him. He looked at me. Neither of us was comfortable just then. Both of us, I am now reasonably confident, wanted to book it out of the restaurant and run in entirely opposite directions.

So of course our waiter showed up.

Normally, I am impressed by how well they time appearing at a table for when the greatest number of people are chewing to ask how things are going. He had chosen that moment, when both of us were too flummoxed to speak, to reappear to take our plates and ask if we wanted dessert. With the stunned silence and the looks on our faces, I think he probably assumed something more, er, romantic was happening than what was really going on and that he had disrupted it. I felt my face heat up, which couldn't help the situation at all. William recovered somewhat faster than I this time and mentioned we would like a few to-go containers. The waiter walked away very quickly and very red in the face. I probably would have laughed had this been any other evening and had I not just unintentionally eavesdropped on someone else's brain.

I looked at William again, my elbow on the table with my hand covering my gaping mouth. Like he said with coincidences, the other day, I could maybe excuse, just having a random connection and conversation with someone else and that was it. Storybook closed, everyone walks away happy if a little bit questioning of the world. To have it happen again, and with everything in combination from the evening just told me that I needed to figure out the actual connection I had with the man, no matter the outcome. "I think… we really need… to discuss this… elsewhere," I managed to say, watching him nod in agreement. I put my hand down onto the table in front of my chest and looked at my mostly-full plate. I felt somewhat badly, the food was very good, but by the time it arrived, with everything else going on, I really could not bear to eat it. His plate was in a similar state, though he had moved his vegetables around a little more than I had.

The waiter came back with two boxes and the check. He looked a little bit frightened that he had done a bad job, but I tried to smile at him reassuringly (a tough job given how shaken I was, so I don't know how successful I could have been). I really thought he did well and it wasn't his fault that a pair of confused and generally awkward people populated his corner table for a good portion of his shift. William quickly snatched both the check and the boxes, offering to put my food in one for me. I tried to pull out a card or some cash to pay for my portion of the food, but he waved away each of my attempts. He was being a very good gentleman, which a small, tiny part of me thought was sweet. In a "you just got bought dinner by a slouching ancient Botoxed psychic" kinda way. Really not weird at all.

Nah.

"I know you may not be comfortable with me asking this, Aly, but I would prefer to further our conversation somewhere else. Restaurants and college-town bars are not my idea of private…." He had stopped spooning the rest of my ravioli into the container to look straight at me. His eyes were pleading again, though there was a hint of determination in them as well.

After what I had said, I knew this was going to come up, and I was wondering how to go about it as well. I didn't feel comfortable inviting him to my apartment, I didn't really want to have this conversation at my office (though this was likely the overall safest place), and I didn't really want to go from here to either another restaurant or bar. We could either sneak into one of the other buildings on campus, which seemed less likely due to the questionable legality of it, or go to his place if he invited me. And going to his place seemed oddly like a moth going to hang out in a spider's web.

"Uh, what are you suggesting?"

"I have an apartment overlooking the square downtown. If it were slightly warmer, I would say we sit out on the balcony. As it is, you would freeze."

I looked at his dark blue eyes, seeing nothing but honesty there. I took a deep breath. And, oh sweet mother of pearl, I agreed. We went to the front of the restaurant with our boxes and he paid. The hostess handed me both of our coats and he quickly took them from me in order to help me put mine on. I was a little clumsy with the whole coat-arm-hold-up-sleeve-for-me thing because I've honestly never had someone do that since I was old enough to put my hands in my own sleeves and not end up with my coat on upside down (and no, it wasn't last year). I smiled at him and thanked him. He held the door open for me as we left.

As ever, please let me know what you think.