“Oh, absolutely. Thank you.”
Leah was called away then, and Lotte got to her feet with a sigh.
Francis got his wallet and dug out one of his business cards. “Here. If you have any questions, let me know and I’ll help where I can.”
She took the card and smiled. “Thank you. I might take you up on that.”
Neither of them had noticed Mark walking in. He was trying to get past Lotte, hovering awkwardly behind her and searching for a way to get away from… Francis.
“Oh, sorry Mark, I didn’t notice you there! Am I in your way?” she asked as soon as she saw him.
“No, no it’s okay—”
The devil went into Francis then, as Marcus’s mother might’ve said once upon a time. “Hey, Deputy Forrest,” he said in a friendly, even tone, instead of letting Mark slip past.
“Oh, you two know each other?” Lotte looked curiously from Francis to Mark and back. “Here, you can have my seat, I was just leaving.”
Despite Mark’s protests, she pushed him into the seat she’d vacated, and patted his shoulder. “Have a nice lunch!”
“Bye, Lotte,” Francis said cheerily. Then he turned his gaze to Mark who seemed shell-shocked, to say the least. “So, we meet again.”
For a few moments, Mark’s expression stayed the same, then he relaxed and snorted. “Very Bond villainy of you to say.”
Leah noticed Mark and came to take his offer. “The usual, Deputy? And will you have anything else, Francis?”
Something hard to read passed Mark’s expression, but he concentrated on Leah. “Yeah, the usual is fine. Add a shot of espresso to the latte, please?”
“Will do.” She smiled and turned to Francis.
“I’ll have another latte as well, and a slice of whatever pie you might have?”
“I have about five types left.” Her tone was dry, which made him realize it was, indeed, Thanksgiving week.
“Surprise me?”
“Alrighty.” She walked away again.
“Look,” Francis started once they were alone again. “I’m not here to cause you any trouble, okay?”
Mark fiddled with a napkin he’d picked up and twisted it in his fingers. “I know that. It’s….” He took in a shuddering breath and clearly kept a firm hold of himself.
“So, how was your Thanksgiving?” Francis asked, leaning back in his seat to pull the pressure back from Mark a little.
“I worked, and I’m doing half-shift this morning, too.”
Francis did the math. “Are you on your way home, then?”
“Uh, yeah.” Mark still couldn’t bring himself to look Francis in the eyes.
“Here you go, boys.” Leah set a plate of food and a coffee in front of Mark, and another mug and a piece of pie in front of Francis. “Holler if you want anything else.”
Mark put the napkin aside and picked up his knife and fork, but didn’t seem to know where to start.
“Hey, if I’m putting you off your food, you can move somewhere else,” Francis said after watching his struggle for a whole minute.
“No, no it’s… it’s not you. I’m….” Mark glanced at him, then back to his plate, and speared some of his Caesar salad with his fork, then put the food into his mouth and started to chew.
If it was possible, Francis was pretty sure Mark would’ve been a bit green around the gills like a cartoon character. He sipped at his latte and took a fork to his... chocolate cream pie? Francis hummed at the taste of the chocolate. It was so very good and not at all too sweet.
