‘Devastated. Drink?’
‘You’re still serving?’
‘Yeah.’ Loris scowls, throwing the snacks into a display basket. ‘It’s against the owner’s religion to close before ten, even when I’m paid to chart the floor.’
‘It’s really quiet, yes.’
‘Sunday night. And we don’t serve food.’
‘You don’t? I never realised. Or wondered, to be honest.’
‘Shocking revelation.’
Loris sneers, but Charleshates it less than in the park. He deserves to be called out for his passive yet blatant elitism.
‘So you survive on crisps and nuts?’
‘I get free food from the deli. They love me there. Beer?’
‘Please. No, a pale ale.’
‘Really?’ Loris moves the glass away from the lager tap. ‘So you’re not a complete creature of habit.’
‘Who said I was?’
‘The stool you picked. Again.’
‘Do you remember every customer’s seat and order after their first visit?’ Charles asks, hoping to shift the awkwardness away from him.
‘No.’
Clearly not feeling awkward at all, Loris hands Charles his pint and moves the box aside, using his heel to open a drink fridge.
‘How long have you worked here?’
‘About two and a half years.’
‘And how long have you lived in England?’
‘Same plus three days.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Yeah.’ Loris squats in front of the fridge to align the wine bottles. ‘Why is it a shocking revelation?’
‘I would have said longer, because of your accent. It’s mild for… Well…’ Charles facepalms internally and dissolves the end of his cliché in ale.
‘For a Frenchman? I know. Now, I’m done restocking and I think there’s a conversation youneedus to have.’
Charles tongues the flesh of his cheek, where it’s sore from the bite in the park.
Perhaps he should let it go. He feels good, sipping agreat beer in an empty pub, making small talk with someone who sort of matters because he doesn’t matter. A debate about Olwinski could ruin the mood, turn Loris back into an infuriating stranger. But how can Charles justify his presence otherwise? With a fake admission of real stalker tendencies?
He unbuttons his coat, chugs a few mouthfuls of liquid composure and finds some more in Loris’ eyes. They’re mocking and unnerving, but Charles enjoys the challenge.
‘First, I’d like to apologise for the way I lectured you, presuming you couldn’t possibly know about Olwinski and theLands. It was wrong. But in my defence, even in my circle it’s impossible to find someone who’s heard of him, so I didn’t imagine that you… That you would… And I’m making it worse.’
‘If the goal is to sound less of a twat, your defence sucks, yeah.’
