But he just stands there, looking like he wants to say something else before finally heading for the front door.
Finally.
That was…odd.
You shake your head after him, shaking off the feelings of annoyance.
Just another joy of the job.
“I don’t like him,” Ziros announces with folded arms as the door swings shut. “Something’s off about him.”
He’s not wrong.
You feel it, too.
But you’re not sure if it’s the standard-creepy sort of feeling from someone who pries too much and doesn’t respect others’ boundaries, or if it’s the magical-creepy feeling of a monster in disguise.
Hopefully it’s not both.
For a short shift, this one sure has been exhausting. Fortunately, it’s almost over, and you know your replacement will be arriving soon. Maybe you’ll tidy up a little more before she gets here.
Cringing, that’s when you remember all the trash still strewn in the alleyway.
30
The Hot Guy Doesn’t Need an Umbrella
You
Your replacement, Lizzie, stares at the scorch marks on the wall.
“What happ—” she starts to ask, but then she notices Ziros.
He leans against the far side of the counter, looking bored, scorched black barista apron still affixed over his chest. Arms folded, staring off into space.
Poor Lizzie.
She freezes mid-word, her head swiveling back and forth between you, Ziros, and all the burn marks. Like she’s trying to piece it all together.
And probably to figure out if Ziros is going to be a new coworker, and what the odds are that he’s single. Maybe it’sa good thing he’s blindingly handsome. Maybe that’ll keep her from asking too many questions.
Questions like,why are the blinds shut?
You don’t know Lizzie very well, having only worked with her a couple times, and it looks like she’ll be doing this shift alone. You frown. It is your birthday, after all, and you’d really like to get out of here, but is it really okay to let her work this place by herself with the possibility of more monsters roaming just out in the back alley?
You glance at Ziros, but he just keeps staring into space, absently waving the fingers of one hand. Absently, in such a way that a mysterious breeze stirs through his hair.
You widen your eyes and give him a look, hoping to catch his attention in astop that!sort of way, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Just stares into space with a darkening expression that makes you wonder if maybe he’s thinking about the monsters, or his brother. Or both.
And hopefully Lizzie doesn’t notice that mysterious breeze, either, and wonder where it’s coming from. Because there’s no fans on or windows open. No reason for his hair to be blowing.
No reason but magic, that is.
“We just had a little incident earlier,” you say as casually as you can, leading Lizzie toward the counter as you launch into the most mundane overview you can manage. An end-of-shift handover update that includes only such boring topics as how many customers there’s been, what the status of the coffee is, and how you hope she has a nice, quiet shift.
After Lizzie is all set, you pull Ziros aside and whisper, “What do you think the chances are there’s another monster in the alley?”
He just shrugs.
