"Hey, give me your number," she said, handing the phone to him. "How the hell are we supposed to stay in contact?"
Paul lifted his eyes from the food. The restaurant buzzed around them, layered with overlapping voices and clinking plates. She still hadn't touched her meal. She had been scrolling ever since they sat down, asking one useless question after another. Now this.
He took the phone and typed his number. "Don't call for no reason."
She took it back and chuckled. "Yeah, yeah. Though I doubt you're someone who even picks up calls."
Paul's phone vibrated in his pocket.
She smirked. "Just checking. But what name should I save you as?" Her grin widened. "Mr. Vanisher? Or the Fool?"
"Whatever helps you sleep," he said, already looking back at his plate.
She glanced at her food, now untouched and cooling. Then at the view outside. The city was washed in an orange glow as the sun sank between buildings.
She sighed. "Today was fun."
Paul didn't reply.
"Didn't you also—" She stopped mid-sentence as her phone rang. She looked at the screen. "My mother, finally."
Paul glanced up, but before he could see the numbers, she already had the phone in her hand. She stood up from her seat and said, "I'll be back in a minute."
She started walking towards the exit, as he heard the faint sound. "Yeah, Mom, it's me."
Then, nothing. He started eating; for a moment, the only sounds reaching his ears were people talking non-stop. Some were calling for waiters, some talking about what they did today, and what they would do next.
"Hey, wait a minute." A voice in front of him. "Aren't you that same dude?"
He heard a palm land on his table. His gaze quickly followed up. A woman. Early twenties. Slightly curly hair, brown skin.
He blinked once. He had seen that face before. "And aren't you the same woman who—"
"Yeah, I'm the same." She cut in.
"What a coincidence," Paul replied casually, "never thought we'd meet again."
"Yeah, same thought."
He gave a soft smile and caught sight of another female behind her, looking curiously at him. She also appeared to be in her early twenties, her hair falling backward, wearing simple clothes. She gave him an office-room vibe.
As soon as she noticed Paul's gaze, she averted it.
"You haven't even told me your name back then," he asked.
"Neither did you," the first woman replied. Her gaze drifted to the other empty seat, where only a shopping bag and a purse sat. A female purse, she noted, and the food was untouched.
"I didn't?" Paul asked to himself, then added, "I'm Paul. Just Paul."
"And I'm Jenna. Only Jenna," she replied, smiling faintly. "And this here is my friend, Sofia."
Sofia smiled awkwardly, not knowing where her friend was going with all this.
"So, is there something you want to talk about?" Paul replied, then smirked. "Or have you finally thought of my offer from back then?"
"I do have something to talk about, but..." She looked at the empty seat. "Guess you are busy with someone already."
He glanced at the untouched food. "Kind of, yeah."
"Is she what I think she is?"
"No, no," Paul quickly replied. "Just a normal friend, that's all. I'm all free whenever you want to meet next time."
Jenna placed her phone on the table. "Type in your number. For real this time."
He smiled faintly, then pulled out his own phone. Handing it towards her, he said, "You should also."
She snatched the phone from his hand and typed in her number. Paul also did the same.
They exchanged their phones back. She said finally, "Don't try to pull a fast one."
"I won't." Paul lifted his hands in surrender. "Whenever you decide, I'll be there."
Jenna nodded slightly and walked away, Sofia right behind her, casting a last glance at Paul before disappearing through the exit.
He tapped the plate with his fork, thinking. What did Jenna want to talk about? He thought the matter with Baldy had ended long ago, but here it was again. He leaned back, eyes drifting upward.
"And here we thought the dead were buried clean this time."
"You look unusually relaxed," Mia said casually as she sat down.
He glanced at her but didn't reply.
"Who were those two?" she asked again.
He leaned back in his seat. "Someone I know. You don't need to think about it."
"Hmm." She scoffed. "I'm not thinking about it anyway."
She started eating. "It's already cold."
Paul watched her in silence.
She noticed. "Is there something on my face?"
"Nothing," he said after a slow blink. "Just wondering."
"Wondering what?"
"Nothing."
"Ah, great." She sighed, then added, "Anyway, what do you think? About today. It's hard to tell anything from your face."
"Normal."
"Normal?" She repeated it. "What am I supposed to understand from that? Like you've been to all those places before?"
She waited. He didn't answer.
"I'm asking if you enjoyed anything today," she said. "Or if it was all just a waste of time."
"It didn't feel like a waste."
"So you enjoyed it?"
"I didn't say that."
"Ugh. Whatever." She went back to her food.
Paul smiled faintly. She didn't see it.
He stood up.
"Where are you going now?" she asked.
"Washroom."
Mia nodded. "Don't take forever."
She returned to her meal. Then paused.
"Wait." She glanced back. Paul was already far away. Her eyes dropped to his plate. Almost empty.
The knife was there, but…
"Who needs a fork in a washroom?" she wondered.
She shook it off quickly, stopping herself from overthinking.
Paul entered the washroom, the door closing slowly behind him. He took a few steps forward, searching for any sign of life. His gaze moved deliberately, but he detected nothing.
"Perfect."
He turned back, leaning against the wall and waiting patiently.
Five minutes passed, but nothing happened. His shoes began tapping against the floor, the sound echoing off the walls. He took a fork from his pocket and examined it, turning it over in his left hand.
Ten minutes passed. The sound of his shoes hitting the floor grew faster. He folded his arms, wondering how long that guy had been following them.
Since he left his apartment?
No, he hadn't sensed anything there.
After Mia arrived?
Yes, but it wasn't obvious at that moment; he just felt someone watching, but only briefly.
Then?
After they left the store. He felt it clearly from then on, all the way up here. He hadn't seen the person yet, but he could tell it was a man. The man who entered the restaurant six minutes after they did, taking a seat completely opposite them.
The dude kept watching them both.
Annoyingly persistent. Couldn't he have just one normal day without stalkers like them?
Fifteen minutes passed. Paul closed his eyes, thinking.
"I'm going to kill that dude."
Then, footsteps. Right behind the closed door. He straightened up, fork in his left hand, eyes fixed on the door, waiting for it to open.
Click.
The sound of the knob turning, then the door opened slowly, revealing a sliver of space. The person outside seemed to be searching for something first. Then the door opened wide.
A man with medium-length hair entered casually. As he turned to push the door closed, his eyes caught sight of Paul. Standing still, eyes boring into his soul.
The man froze.
Paul quickly grabbed the man's head and slammed it against the cold wall. The man didn't even have time to scream. Before the man could regain his balance, Paul kicked him in the calf, bringing him to his knees.
A low cry escaped from the man's throat.
Paul switched the fork to his right hand, pulled the man's hair back tightly, the fork stopping an inch away from the man's eye.
"Who sent you?" Paul asked flatly.
"What… what are you talking about?" The man asked back.
Paul frowned. He pulled the hair tighter and asked again, his voice cracking slightly, "I asked you who is behind this? Is she the one?"
"She?" The man gritted his teeth. "I don't know what you're saying. Let go of me, you bitch."
Paul closed his eyes briefly, breathed out slightly, then opened them again. "I'll ask one last time."
He moved the fork closer. "Who sent you?"
The man tried to stand up.
"Don't," Paul said in a low voice. "Just answer what I want to know."
The man's gaze hardened. He was about to blink when—
"Don't blink," Paul said, "you don't wanna die in the dark, do you?"
The man didn't blink, his breathing becoming heavier, echoing against the closed walls. The fork moved closer.
"I don't have much time," Paul said loudly this time. "Who sent you?" Then he thrust the fork into the man's eye.
The man's eyes slammed shut as he cried out. "Roman." Then quickly added, "He told me to watch over you. What you do. Where you go. Everything your eyes can see."
"Hm." Paul released the hair from his grip. "That bitch ass can't sit still, can he?"
The man stood up slowly, his head still throbbing.
Paul watched him for a moment, then said, "Fuck off now."
The man turned and was about to leave when Paul called out again. "Wait."
The man glanced back, then turned slowly to face Paul.
Paul said calmly, "You know where I live, right?"
The man nodded once.
"Excellent. From now on, you'll report every man, every deal Roman makes to me. Got that?"
The man nodded a second later.
"You'll go far if you keep up that attitude," Paul said as he stepped forward. "If you don't, you know what will happen, right?"
The man turned to look at Paul, but Paul was already at the door.
"Don't leave before half an hour passes." The door shut again.
Mia sat in her seat, her chin resting on her palm, staring at the phone lying on the table. She tapped the screen, scrolled down, then closed the app, just as she had been doing before.
Then Paul arrived back.
"You came back quicker than I expected," she said, lifting her head to look at him. "A few more minutes and I was about to send a search party."
"We're leaving," he replied calmly, standing still.
She narrowed her eyes at him for half a second, then dropped it. "You didn't even finish your food."
"I had enough."
She stood up slowly, grabbing her purse and the shopping bag. Her eyes flickered toward his plate. "Did you seriously go to the washroom and forget the fork there?"
He picked up the glass and took a sip of water. "Something like that."
Outside the window, the city had shifted colors. The orange glow had dimmed. Streetlights flickered on, one by one, their reflections stretching across the glass.
Mia followed his gaze for a moment. "…It's getting late," she said quietly.
"Yeah."
They started walking towards the exit, their steps unhurried. Paul was about to turn towards the counter when Mia said quickly, "I already paid the bill."
Outside, the wind felt colder. They waited patiently, silent and still. Then the bus arrived, and people began to board.
She also stepped forward, then stopped, glancing back at him. She lifted her phone and said, "I'll call, and not without a reason."
"I'll wait."
She smiled faintly and hopped on. As the door started to close, she quickly put out her hand, stopping it. The bus driver called out to her, frustrated.
Ignoring him, she breathed out once and said, "We'll meet again tomorrow, right?"
"Maybe, maybe not."
She smiled again. Still the same Paul as always. She pulled back her hand and said softly,
"Still, I'm glad today happened."
The door closed.
"Yeah, me too,"