As a new week rolled by, Bart started to be more accustomed with his job. He had assured Milhouse that he was fine, kept quiet about Sideshow Bob altogether with his family and even managed to act normal with his colleagues when it came to that particular customer. The last thing he wanted was to fuck everything up by exposing Bob again in the new life he'd started.

He waited for the man who came by everyday, to order the same thing from him. Everytime, Bob would sit at his usual table, and Bart would keep an eye on him if he wasn't too busy, sometimes finding himself looking longer than he needed. Bart started to feel like he was Bob's regular, not the other way around. But he left impressive tips, so Bart made sure to be more accommodating to him, as advised by his colleague and boss.

"You know, Robert stops by almost everyday now." Sarah informed him one slow day when rain was pouring outside.

"What does he do, anyway?" Bart asked, trying to get information as nonchalantly as he could manage.

"I think he works at the library. That's all I know, though. He doesn't really chat all that much."

Typical, coming from someone who tried to set up a kids' show about reading books, Bart thought. Still, he wondered when he was even released from prison and what had happened to him in the last twelve years. He wasn't going to ask her, he was sure his colleagues had no idea about his criminal past.

"Here's your favorite customer!" She teased him when the bell rang and Bart looked towards the front door.

Bob stood in the threshold, soaked to the bone, drooping red hair sticking to his forehead and shoulders. The expression on his face was downright murderous – he clearly hadn't been prepared for the downpour. Bart stifled a laugh, the image was priceless.

"Rough day, I see?" He teased Bob, walking up to him as he was trying to make himself comfortable at his table.

"No, just this... catastrophic weather," he grumbled, gesturing towards the window.

"Your usual?"

"Please," he accepted with his usual polite smile.

Bart brought him what he wanted, exactly as he wanted, then stood there, hesitating.

"You look more comfortable than usual, Bart. I do hope it doesn't bode ill for my life." He joked, raising his cup.

"What? No, it's just your usual coffee, jeez..." Bart lowered his voice. "Can I... ask you something?" He glanced around to check if his colleagues were busy.

"Of course," Bob replied, sipping his drink comfortably.

"Do you come here everyday because of me?"

Bob pondered for a moment, his smug expression gone. "I was very surprised to see you work here, I'll admit. But I've been coming here for months. What makes you think I come for you?"

"I dunno, you come here everyday now. And the tips? That's a bit much, don't you think? Also, I guess I still have my job thanks to you."

"You still have your job because you're capable, simple as that. The rest, I suppose, has been coincidental."

"Not really, I'm only now starting to get the hang of it, barely! I'm not cut out for much of anything, you know, every job I've ever tried has ended badly! I'm not like Lisa, or even you, going for higher education and being good at whatever I do..."

Bob raised an eyebrow and Bart felt a flush coming to his face. He immediately regretted opening up to him, especially in the middle of his shift. Luckily for him, they were on the far side of the café, at Bob's usual table.

"Thank you for the kind compliment. But I know you, Bart." His voice was now almost a whisper, and Bart had to bend closer to hear him over the drumming sound of the rain. "You're intelligent, as you have shown in the past. Who has foiled me more than enough times, a child against a grown adult? Is that not being capable?"

Bart rolled his eyes. "No? That was mostly Lisa, Bob."

The older man furrowed his eyebrows. "Keep telling yourself that. What is your real question, Bart?"

His dark brown eyes were taking his own hostage, making it difficult for Bart to think. What was his real question? Was it about Bob's intentions? His own? Did he want to flat out ask Bob if he was planning to kill him? Or was he too scared for the answer, hoping instead for something that had been growing in the back of his mind and that he had been trying his best to bury deep in denial? He was lost. Lost in what, he didn't know.

"Bart! Customers! No time for chit-chat!" Sarah's voice resonated somewhere.

"You seem to have many questions for me." Bob stood up and once again slipped Bart's tip into his hand. "We should catch up sometime. How about I wait for you tomorrow after your shift and we can have a talk? We'll go wherever you want, so you can rest easy."

"Okay." He accepted meekly and watched him as he left the café, back into the rain.

Red alarms started blaring in Bart's brain. He had let his guard down and accepted to see Sideshow Bob outside the safety of his workplace. This was exactly what he was supposed to warn Milhouse about, yet he was reluctant to do so. Perhaps he did need to have a discussion with his former tormentor, and after days where Bob could easily have stalked him out to kill him, Bart felt confident his intentions were not murderous. But that was exactly his problem, Bart knew he could never be certain with anything with Sideshow Bob.

He decided against calling his best friend that night after he got home. It was stupid and careless, but Milhouse was certain to talk him out of it. It only made sense he would want him to be safe, but he hadn't been there, talking with Bob almost everyday, observing him, making sure he'd turned over a new leaf. Who else other than Bart could know?