Bart woke up early, startled by his phone alarm. It felt like he'd just fallen asleep a few minutes ago, given the small amount of energy he felt he'd recovered.

He arrived on time the next day, dead set on proving the world he could be reliable. He still felt sore from the previous day, but he was determined to keep trying.

He greeted his colleagues, put on his ugly orange apron, and prepared his customer smile. "Think of the tips!" Sarah's words to start the day hardly motivated him for the nightmare that was to come.

Lunch hour was a little easier than the previous day, or perhaps Bart was starting to get the hang of things – greet the customers, take their order, serve it to them, cash them out, wish them a good day, or something. He still had trouble with the coffee machine, especially when customers decided that their choice of the day would be drinks with four to five adjectives.

Given the slow nature of the afternoon, Bart had the privilege of learning the ins and outs of using the cash register with Sarah, trying his best to keep up with his speedy colleague.

The front door bell rang. Bart looked up from behind the counter, ready to greet the newcomer, but he froze into place, and his heart stopped.

A tall man in a neat-looking jacket walked in, visibly annoyed and barely sparing them a look, wild red hair flowing along as he looked around for a table. Sideshow Bob appeared to be the next customer.

Bart felt his heart rate increase dangerously and he could almost hear his brain scream at him to start running. He resisted the urge to slink behind the counter, but he didn't want to have to explain his colleague what was going on. It was only his second day and he wasn't about to blow it.

"What are you waiting for? Don't worry I'll take care of that."

Bart swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to come up with an excuse, anything to be as far away from the unwelcome man as possible. He risked a glance in his direction and, much to his dismay, Bob was sitting all the way across the room facing his way. He was staring him up and down with narrowed eyes, his frown confirming Bart's fears. Bob had recognized him. Of course he had. Bart certainly had grown up, but he knew he still looked pretty much the same, the same spiky blond hair, the same general attitude, not to mention that his stiff reaction was probably a dead giveaway.

Next to him, Sarah loudly cleared her throat. He got the message, he should hurry. He breathed in slowly and sighed quietly, accepting his fate. He slowly walked towards Sideshow Bob, trying to reassure himself. After all, they were in a public space, people were all around them, and Bob wasn't stupid enough to try anything here. Not to mention, Bart was an adult now. He wasn't particularly strong, but he was sure he could take him on if needed. Probably.

Bart arrived at Bob's level and the man looked up at him, a sickenly polite smile adorning his thin features. How obnoxious, Bart thought.

"What can I get you?" He managed to articulate before the man could attack him with his usual "Hello, Bart."

"And before you ask, I'm not allowed to serve my blood to customers."

Sideshow Bob's smile faded for a second, then he burst out laughing. Bart's eyes darted around in embarrassement, but no one seemed to have noticed the odd interaction. It felt strange for him to hear that laugh after so many years, even stranger to hear a non-threatening laugh coming from the maniac.

The well-dressed man regained his composure and gave him a snarky look.

"I've had a dreadful day, you see. And here I thought it couldn't get any worse," he complained dramatically in his low-pitched voice.

"You and me, both, Bob," he countered, not willing to let the criminal get to him. "So whaddya want?"

The palmtree-haired man pondered for a moment. Bart thought he was probably hesitating between his head or his heart on a nice silver platter.

"Why don't you surprise me, Bart?" A cynical smile had found its way across his face as he laced his fingers together.

The blond was speechless. He wasn't sure whether it was because Bob spoke his name, making him feel like he was ten years old again, or because of his ridiculous request.

"What? Surprise you? How the hell am I supposed to know?" He all but shouted, feeling more confident.

"You know me well, I believe. I haven't changed much outside of my criminal tendencies in the last... twelve years or so." Unlike Bart, he was speaking in a low and quiet voice, visibly reluctant to be heard in the entire coffeeshop. "Though I see you have changed much." His dark brown eyes resumed looking him up and down, taking in his adult appearance.

Bart froze. He felt sctrutinized and vulnerable, like Bob was scanning him layer by layer, probably sensing his fear and looking for a way to take advantage of it. Bart had to get out of there. Without another word he turned his heels with an empty notebook – Bob's order. He walked hastily towards the coffee machine behind the counter, still feeling Bob's eyes on him.

"What's going on? Did something happen there with Robert?" His boss asked him, alerted by his shouting. Bart stood in front of the machine, trying to gather his thoughts.

"Uh, no. Everything's fine. Wait, who?"

"The customer you just talked to. What did he want?"

Robert. The ex-sideshow wanted to be called Robert now, and he was probably living in Shelbyville. Bart had no idea when Bob was released from prison, but it was clear he had made himself a new life here.

"He wants me to surprise him."

"Go ahead then, what do you think he wants?"

An image of his own tied-up body laying at the feet of a very triumphant Bob popped up into his mind. He pushed the thought aside and started making the darkest coffee imaginable.

He was closely watched by his colleague, obviously doubting his choice, and when Bart was ready to serve, Sarah added a suger packet on the saucer.

"Just in case."

Bart carried the order over to Bob who appeared to have barely moved an inch. The redhead watched closely as he put the cup down carefully in front of him and withdrew himself just as fast. The cautious behavior seemed to amuse the ex-sideshow.

"Thank you," he said simply with a smile, then took the cup to take a sip.

Bart didn't know why he stood there watching him. It probably was to make sure he got his order right, that's all, and Bob was just a customer like any other. But he couldn't explain why he stared as the man brought the cup to his lips, his long fingers wrapped around the handle, his eyes closed as he took a gulp.

A slight wrinkle of disgust formed above his nose as he put the cup down. He picked up the suger packet, emptied it in his drink and took another sip, visibly satisfied. He then looked back at the blond still standing right next to him.

"Anything else?" He inquired in a whisper. Bart swore he saw a dangerous glare in his eyes.

His brain began working again and he took off with a single "No."

He resumed taking care of the other customers as best as he could, occasionally glancing at the ex-criminal, sometimes meeting his eyes as he drank his coffee. Bob didn't look dangerous, which made him feel somewhat better. But he knew he was behaving oddly, he simply hoped no one had noticed. The presence of this particular customer certainly didn't help Bart, who tried his best not to drown in the waves of orders and demands. A while passed and Bob called for Bart, who brought him the bill with more confidence than earlier. The readhead glanced at the piece of paper and reached for his wallet.

"And here's your tip." He pulled out a bill he handed to Bart, who took it hesitantly.

"You're giving me a ten-dollar tip?" He asked in disbelief. What was his deal?

"For good service." The man smiled and stood up from his chair. Bart stared at the neatly folded bill, deciding not to question it any further. When he looked back at Bob, he was giving him an -evil?- grin, sending him dangerous signals, bending down slightly to his level. Bart realized how tall he still was compared to him, even as an adult.

"I do love the orange apron, by the way," Bob started in a hushed voice. "It suits you almost as well as it used to suit me."

Bart gulped at the sudden close interaction, trying to find the threat in Bob's words. But the ex-inmate turned his heels to leave the shop, leaving him standing there with clenched fists. Once he made sure Bob was out and far away, he went back to Sarah.

"Hey, uh... Is Bob a regular here, too?" He asked, his eyes still glued to the front door.

"Who? Oh, you mean Robert? Yeah, kinda, he comes by occasionally. He hates the name Bob, though, so be careful about that. He's a good customer of ours. Wait – did he give you a ten?"

"Um, yeah, for good service."

"Damn, Bart, well done! That's like a two-hundred percent tip! I don't know what you did, but keep going," she encouraged him.

So it really was just a coincidence, Sideshow Bob was a customer here. Of course, with his luck. Bart spent the rest of his shift cursing his lousy star that kept putting the homicidal maniac in his path.