Both Darren and Charles turned around, and unsurprisingly, the person standing behind them was none other than Tyler Mooney.
There was an infuriated look on his face. The blue-glinting suit he wore, earlier meant to scream wealth, now looked almost laughable against the dark anger rolling off him.
Tyler looked at Charles. "I understand that you're a nice guy, Charlie. Having a cozy little chat with... this fiddle. But you don't have to do it. A man of your level shouldn't talk to street dogs like him."
Darren's mind thundered at the sound of that name. He almost exploded in his seat, ready to shoot out a clenched fist at Tyler.
Few heads had already been drawn from nearby tables, so Darren knew to stay cool headed.
Charles, composed as ever, gave Tyler a slight nod but clearly turned his full attention back to Darren, refusing to engage.
