The diner looked exactly the same.
Which somehow made it feel completely different.
The neon sign outside buzzed faintly against the growing darkness, casting a tired blue glow across the parking lot. Rain from earlier still clung to the asphalt, turning every streetlight into long ribbons of liquid gold. Cars drifted past the windows every few minutes, their headlights washing over the empty booths before disappearing back into the night.
Inside, the smell of burnt coffee and old grease lingered in the air.
Comfortable.
Forgettable.
Perfect for this meeting.
I arrived ten minutes early.
Being late was disrespectful, of course.
Being exactly on time was predictable.
Being early...Being early let me watch and observe.
I slid into the same booth Thomas had occupied only days before.
People always choose corners when they are afraid. Afraid of being watched, afraid of being vulnerable in the presence of others.
I wasn't afraid.
I simply liked corners.
They let me see everyone.
The waitress wandered over with a tired smile that looked as though it had survived three consecutive double shifts. A ring on her finger, married. However, it looks as if it's been tampered with. Possibly having second thoughts?
"Coffee?" She spoke in a low voice.
"No, thank you."
"You waiting on someone?"
"I certainly hope so. It would not feel great to be stood up."
She laughed politely.
"I'll leave your menu just in case."
She already knew I wasn't going to order.
People liked pretending everyone was a potential customer.
"Ah, how's your marriage?" I suddenly asked her out of the blue.
She stopped abruptly before ignoring me completely and continuing forward. She definitely was not a fan of that question.
Then I waited.
Waiting had never bothered me.
Most people became uncomfortable with silence because silence forced them to think.
I enjoyed thinking.
It was where the fun lived. Where the ideas flowed and the creativeness was at its peak.
Outside, another pair of headlights rolled into the parking lot.
A gray sedan.
By the looks of it, it is government issued.
Someone isn't very trusting at all.
The engine shut off.
Nobody got out yet.
I smirked at such antics.
He was checking, observing the surroundings. Making sure that I came alone.
I'd have been disappointed if he otherwise. But does he truly think I am that predictable and easy to figure out?
Thirty seconds later, the driver's door opened.
One man stepped out. He was of average height and donned a dark coat, and atop his head was a hat.
Of course.
The mysterious hat had returned.
He stood beside the car for several moments, scanning the lot.
His eyes never stopped moving. Scouring every inch of the area. Windows, roofs, cars, even reflections. Although something always caught his attention for a moment. What could it be?
There was something more there.
He didn't seem paranoid, more like disciplined.
There was a difference.
Then he entered.
The bell above the door chimed.
I finally saw him properly.
Mid-thirties, perhaps.
Dark hair hidden beneath the brim.
Stubble that suggested he hadn't cared enough to shave that morning.
His tie sat slightly crooked.
His shoulders were tense.
Not nervous.
Tired.
Profoundly tired.
His eyes found me immediately.
Of course, they did.
He'd already planned exactly where I'd sit. It made me wonder if he knew me more than I had thought.
Or maybe it was more that he was more like me than I thought.
He walked over without hesitation.
"You came." He spoke in a gruffy worn out voice.
"I said I would."
"I suppose you did."
He remained standing.
"You really came alone."
"I did."
He studied me for another moment.
"You seem disappointed." I said, locking my hands together and smiling at him.
"I'm cautious."
"A healthier lifestyle choice you have chosen then."
He ignored the joke.
Then finally sat down.
For a long moment...
Neither of us spoke.
The waitress returned.
"Coffee?"
He nodded.
"Black."
She looked toward me.
"You sure you don't want anything?"
I smiled politely.
"I'll wait."
She scribbled something down before leaving again.
Silence returned.
Not awkward.
It was more measured.
Like two chess players refusing to touch the first piece. Studying the opponent before studying the board.
Finally...
He spoke.
"I've listened to hundreds of your sermons."
I blinked.
"Only hundreds? I'm hurt."
"They're surprisingly repetitive."
I laughed.
"I'll have to hire new writers."
"I thought you wrote them yourself."
"I do."
"Then that explains it."
Oh.
He had a sense of humor.
Dry and unexpected? Yes. But a sense nonetheless.
I liked that.
"I expected someone older." I shot at him playfully.
"I get that often."
He stared for a second before shooting back.
"I expected someone louder."
I chuckle leaning my head back.
"I save that for Sundays."
His expression barely changed.
"I've read every interview you've ever given."
"Only the public ones?"
"Yes."
"Those are terribly boring."
"I am horribly aware of how...boring they are."
The waitress returned with his coffee.
Steam drifted lazily upward.
He thanked her.
Shooting him a smile, she left us once again.
....
He did not drink it just yet.
I leaned back.
"You've done quite a lot of homework. Even if that work is just listening to me speak."
"I prefer knowing who I'm dealing with, and you can tell a lot by the way someone speaks."
His fingers rested loosely around the coffee mug. They were incredibly still. No shaking or tapping. Just still with almost surgeon level of calmness.
"I couldn't find much about your childhood. Very empty."
"My parents preferred privacy."
"They're still alive, and you visit them twice a month."
"I supposed I do."
"You send flowers to your mother every birthday."
"Well, she just adores the Lotus with every fiber of her being."
"You've never been arrested. Clean track record and no run-ins with the law."
"I've been lucky. Ha, can't say that much about the majority of youths." I said with a sigh whilst smiling and shaking my head.
"You've never received a parking ticket."
"That's because Alexandria drives. Of course, I am assuming you already know her."
His eyebrow lifted.
"Alexandria Queen."
"My very platonic companion." I say, wiggling my eyebrows at him.
"...Platonic?"
"Very."
He stared.
Then...
Almost smiled.
Almost.
"I don't believe you."
"About which part?"
"Any of it."
Fair enough.
I rested my elbows on the table.
"My turn."
He nodded once.
"How long have you been following me?"
He didn't answer immediately.
"Long enough."
"Months?"
Silence.
"Years?"
Nothing.
"I'll take that as years."
"You can take it however you'd like."
He hadn't confirmed anything.
Nor denied it.
It was a classical answer. You cannot go wrong with the classics sometimes.
"I imagine I kept you busy."
"You did."
"I hope you enjoyed yourself."
"No."
"Pity. Because I sure am having a fun time."
He finally took his first sip of coffee.
No reaction.
Which meant it really was terrible.
"I've met people like you before."
I smirk, my eyes almost closed in amusement.
"Have you?"
"They all thought they were unique, above the world and completely untouchable."
"And?"
"They weren't..."
"I find that deeply offensive."
"I hoped you would."
I laughed.
Genuinely.
He wasn't trying to provoke me.
He was measuring my reactions.
Everything he said had a purpose.
Every sentence was bait.
Wonderful. Let us see if your pole snaps before you can bring me to the surface.
"So..."
I tilted my head.
"What am I?"
"A narcissist."
"Probably."
"A manipulator."
"Definitely."
"A pathological liar."
"I prefer 'creative communicator.'"
He ignored that.
"You enjoy control."
"I enjoy people."
"No."
His voice remained calm.
"You enjoy watching people."
That...
Was closer.
Much closer.
I smiled.
"Someone has been doing their studying. What've you been reading psychology books?"
"I've been reading you."
I studied him for several seconds.
There was no arrogance or triumph in his voice.
He genuinely believed what he'd just said.
"You know..."
I said quietly.
"I think you're profiling me right now."
"I am."
"Is it working?"
He looked directly into my eyes.
"No."
I laughed again.
"Liar."
"I'm getting pieces."
"So am I."
That was true.
He'd maintained eye contact through nearly the entire conversation.
Military?
Law enforcement training?
Likely.
His breathing never changed.
He wasn't reacting emotionally.
He'd practiced interviews.
Interrogations.
Hours upon hours of them.
He'd learned patience.
Which meant...
He expected me to become impatient first.
Unfortunately for him...
I had all night.
"So..."
I folded my hands.
"Why invite me?"
He answered immediately.
"Because I wanted to know if the man matched the file."
"And?"
"The file was incomplete."
"Good."
He frowned slightly.
"You sound pleased."
"I am."
"I don't understand."
"People are much more interesting than paperwork."
A faint breeze rattled the diner windows.
Outside, rain began falling again.
Softly.
The detective glanced toward the glass.
Only for a second.
Still checking his surroundings.
Always checking.
Hypervigilance.
Not fear.
Habit.
And there it is again. The most miniscule and feint pause in his eyes when they looked around.
What could he be looking at?
"So, you're building this psychological profile on me."
He suddenly spoke up and looked back at me.
"So are you." I smile innocently at him.
"I asked first. No. That is my mistake."
He shook his head before speaking again.
"You started the moment you answered the phone."
I smiled wider.
Touché.
"You noticed."
"You weren't subtle."
"I wasn't trying to be."
Silence settled between us once more.
The waitress wandered over again.
"You boys ready to order?"
I looked toward him.
"Your choice."
"I already ate."
I gasped.
"Without me? Here I was hoping this would be a nice outing where we ate together and talked like old friends."
The waitress chuckled.
The detective, however, did not.
"I'll have pie." I look up at her.
"What kind?"
I looked at the detective.
"What are you having?"
He sighed.
"...Apple."
"Wonderful."
I put up two fingers.
"Two apple pies please."
The waitress smiled before walking away.
The detective watched her leave.
Then looked back at me.
"You perform constantly. It must be a headache."
"I don't know what you mean."
"You adjusted your tone when she walked over."
"I was being polite."
"You wanted her to like you."
"I want everyone to like me."
"I am well aware."
He paused.
"But you don't care whether they do."
...
Maybe not.
That one had landed closer than I expected.
I didn't let it show.
Instead, I laughed.
"You know what's fascinating?"
"What?"
"You've spent this entire conversation telling me who I am."
"And?"
"You haven't told me a single thing about yourself."
His expression didn't change.
"Tonight isn't about me."
"No."
I smiled.
"It very much is."
For the first time since he'd entered...
The detective hesitated.
Barely.
Less than a second.
But it was there.
A tiny pause.
A microscopic crack.
Enough.
I leaned back, satisfied.
"Now, detective...let me tell you who you are."