The cafe was empty. Though, it wasn't the natural emptiness of a slow business day, or the temporary lull between the breakfast rush and the lunch crowd. Nope, someone rented out an entire establishment simply because one could.
Arzhen Vasiliev sat alone at a table on the second floor, positioned perfectly by the window where the morning light caught the white marble tabletop and made it gleam.
The chair he had chosen was upholstered in soft gray velvet, ergonomically designed. He leaned back in it with ease.
A small wooden box sat on the table in front of him.
His tail, sleek and striped, swished lazily behind him, the only visible sign of movement in an otherwise perfectly still figure. His ears, perched atop his head and covered in the same orange-and-black fur, swiveled occasionally toward the soft jazz playing from the cafe's hidden speakers.
He had dismissed the staff after they'd brought his coffee. He didn't need them hovering.
