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scribbling-dragon · 1 year

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Watcher’s Nest Café

Chapter 2

summary:

The man came back.

The man walks into the café the next morning, smiling cheerily as the bell twinkles merrily above the door, announcing his arrival. He is far too happy for a man whose stolen fiver is still sitting in the tip jar.

(ao3 link)

(masterpost)

(2,484 words)

The man came back.

Cleo is alone this morning. Pixl’s in some early morning class that he complains about every time he has to go to it. Scott isn't sure why he complains, because he distinctly remembers Pixl choosing that class specifically because it was early in the morning so it would ‘get it out of the way’ for the rest of the day. He’s actually pretty sure Pixl has done this every single year he’s been at university.

Cleo being alone does not mean she is any less of a menace to him. Even worse is that Pearl is here today rather than Jimmy, meaning they're attempting to make his life more of a living hell than it usually is.

“Good morning,” Pearl chirps, leaning against the counter, “what can we get started for you?”

Cleo is staring at him from the bar counter, their eyes attempting to bore into the side of his head with the intensity of their stare. He does his best to ignore them- looking in their direction will only encourage them in the future and he does not want this to turn into a repeating incident.

“Just a latte, please.” The man holds just his card in his hand this time, wallet tucked securely away somewhere else. Pity, Scott had almost been tempted to see if he could steal something else from him.

“That’ll be three-fifty.” The man taps his card against the machine, all three of them waiting in silence before it beeps.

Scott works on the coffee slowly, dragging himself through the familiar motions. He could do this in his sleep at this point, really- and probably a good thing he can because he feels as though he’s going to keel over any moment now. The morning has been slow too, meaning there’s been no adrenaline kick to wake him up properly and he’s left feeling like he’s swimming through molasses to get anything done.

He sets the coffee in front of the man, who has chosen to wait beside the counter rather than sit somewhere else, resting his hip against the counter. He doesn't look at Scott as he sets the drink down, eyes instead focused on Pearl, squinted slightly, as though he’s trying to think of something.

Scott clears his throat, and the man jumps, hand pressed to his chest. “Geez, man, give a guy a little warning, huh?”

“Your drink is ready.” He gestures towards the drink, nudging it a little closer to the man.

“Ah, yeah, thanks.” The man still seems a little distracted. He’s not looking at Scott and when he turns to find where the man’s gaze has wandered, he finds it fixed on Pearl again, watching her as she cleans the coffee machine.

“Hey,” he drags the man’s attention back to him. “Prefer it if you didn't stare at my co-workers like that, hm?” Pearl’s looking now, one hand still resting against the coffee machine as she watches them. Cleo’s watching too, though it seems less so in concern and more because she wants to be able to recount this to Pixl word-for-word.

“Oh, sorry,” the man laughs, finally picking his drink up. “I just, do I know you from somewhere?” He directs the last bit at Pearl, voice lilting up a little at the end. “I just feel like I've seen you before, but I can't put my finger on it.”

“Really? Can't say I recognise you.” Cleo snickers, glancing between Pearl and their mystery man.

“No, no, definitely someone I've met before. Not many people with an Australian accent out here- where did you go to school?”

Pearl pulls a face at his question. “Don't think you should be asking a random barista that.”

“Ugh, yeah, sorry.” The man winces, like, a full-body wince that Scott has only seen from Jimmy before. “That’s kinda weird, lemme rephrase that: did you go to the Evolutionary Belief Primary?”

“Evo?” Pearl cocks her head to the side, “Didn't think anyone still knew about that.”

Scott has heard many stories about Pearl’s primary school- both Jimmy and Pearl’s primary school. Mainly stories about what a hellhole it was, and how odd a lot of the teachers had been. Last time it got mentioned was when Pearl and Jimmy were talking about it being shut down, though neither of them could figure out what it was for, only that it managed to get into the national news.

“You do know it!” Scott is simply glad that there are no other patrons currently in the café because this man is going to scare everyone away at this rate- seriously, has he ever interacted with people before? “Man, I knew I wasn't going mad- I went there too, knew I recognised you.”

“Uh-huh,” Scott nods along. “Is that all you wanted to know?”

“I- yeah, I guess?” The man looks at him as though he’s only just remembered he’s here. He’s tempted to give him a little wave before sending him on his way, but resists. “Oh my god!” Scott winces away from him, fins flattening to the sides of his head at the man’s outburst. “You were the girl that climbed the trees to read her books!”

“That was me.” Pearl looks at him from the corner of her eye before she looks back at the man. “Weren't you the kid that always snitched on me when I did it?”

The man laughs, leaning back on the counter and setting his drink down. He looks a little red. “Yeah, uh, that was me. It was Pearl, right?”

“Yep!” Pearl rocks back and forth on her feet a little. “Don't remember your name, though.”

“Martyn,” the man, Martyn apparently, grins. His drink is going cold, which is his problem rather than Scott’s. He hopes he has to drink cold coffee. Maybe he’ll stick around and let Scott witness him drinking the cold coffee. That would make everything happening right now worth it. “I'm pretty sure you threw a book at me once.”

“Oh, yeah!” Pearl giggles, making her way over to the counter, nudging her way in beside him. He shuffles to the side, making room for her. He leans a little more of his weight on the counter, easing the weight from his leg- the cold weather certainly isn't helping, and neither is the recent insomnia. “It was a hardback, right? I think some of your blood is still on it.”

“That’s weird, Pearl.”

“Aw, Scott, I've seen your apartment. You have some freaky stuff in there.”

“A mannequin is not freaky.” His mannequin is perfectly respectable, even if she hasn't been used in several years. He doesn't have the heart to throw her away- not after they've been through so much together. “You're just weird about her.”

“She’s stitched together.”

“We’ve had a few accidents over the years,” he shrugs, “she’s old, and I didn't want to buy a new one. She still works perfectly fine.”

“No, Scott, I'm on Pearl’s side with this one.” Cleo points at him with her spoon, nodding sagely. “She looks like Frankenstein’s monster.”

“She’s hardly going to come alive.” He sighs, pushing back off of the counter. “You're just overly dramatic about her.” As no one else seems inclined to do any work around here he grabs the anti-bac from beneath the counter, peering around for a cloth before he manages to find one trailing halfway out of a drawer.

“I swear she moved, once.” Pearl whispers to Martyn, leaning against the counter. He can't tell if she meant for him to hear her or not, so chooses to ignore her either way. The mannequin doesn't even have arms, so he’s not sure how Pearl saw her move.

“So, you a fashion student?” Martyn says, and it takes Scott several moments to realise he’s being spoken to.

“Not anymore.” He continues cleaning the table in the furthest corner- they always manage to forget about it during their rush hours, so he may as well clean it now rather than leave it to gather dust. The leather of his gloves creaks as he grips the cloth a little tighter, swiping it back and forth a few more times. It does nothing but make the table shine a little more- it hadn't even been truly dusty, but something about the man - Martyn - makes Scott nervous.

Silence echoes in the shop for several long moments after that and he continues to clean the tables. He doesn't want to turn around and find all three of them looking at him- he’s glad, now, that this man didn't show up while they were busy. Or maybe he should have hoped that the man did show up when they were busy? He probably wouldn't have stuck around for a chat then, and Scott can't exactly kick him out when he’s done nothing wrong, he’s not even asked about the five-pound note he’s definitely realised is missing by now.

“Hey, Martyn,” Pearl breaks the silence. “Weren't you friends with Jimmy?” It’s a very obvious way to break the awkward silence that had settled over them, but it works anyway, Martyn perking up again as Pearl begins to regale him with the story of the Sheriff Incident.

“Pearl,” Jimmy stares at Pearl, aghast. Tango snickers beside him. “No, please, tell me you didn't.”

“He asked.”

“No he didn't,” Scott brushes past Pearl, on his way to deliver two hot chocolates to the table beside the door. “You offered the information freely.”

“Scott!” Pearl protests. “He didn't need to know that!”

“You didn't need to tell him about that,” Jimmy slumps over the counter, head pillowed in his hands. Tango pats him on the shoulder.

“Hey, it’s not the worst thing she could have told him,” Tango attempts.

“Oh yeah?” Scott steps back behind the counter, casting Jimmy’s slumped over form an amused look. His voice is slightly muffled. “What else could she have told him? What could have been worse than that?”

“She could have told him about the fallout from that incident, you know, with the toys-”

“Don't.”

Scott wonders, briefly, whether to tell Jimmy that the man they are currently talking about is still here, sitting in the back corner with a thick textbook and a vaguely stressed look on his face. He’s not sure what he’s studying, but he’s heard enough about the upcoming exams that everyone has that he can probably make a guess to why he’s stressed.

The textbook looks thick enough to be a medicine textbook, but the guy also doesn't give off med student vibes. He’s far too cheerful and awake for that- most of their med students ignore whatever medical advice there is on caffeine intake. Scott normally lies to them about how many shots he puts in their drinks (seriously, he’s not looking for a murder charge, alright?) and just hands it over. It’d do med students some good to get some sleep every once in a while.

So, definitely not a med student, even though the textbook looks heavy enough to kill a man.

He takes the ticket Pearl hands to him, eyes still fixed on the man tucked away in the corner of the shop- it’s normally so easy to overlook that table in the back corner, but he’s found his eyes drawn periodically to it throughout today.

“You do know he’s still here, right?” He asks, if only to watch Jimmy’s head shoot up, eyes blown wide.

“Where?” Tango asks, apparently curious to meet Martyn as well. It certainly was interesting to pin the name he’s heard from Jimmy several times over the years to a face. Though he hardly looks like the type to start a club for policing other students.

“Back corner,” he nods over towards the table. “Your drinks will be done in a moment.”

“Fantabulous,” Tango grins, grabbing Jimmy by the shoulders and pulling him up- though he’s less upright and more hunched over to allow Tango to continue holding onto his shoulders. “We’ll go have a chat with him then.”

“Pearl,” he doesn't even turn his head away from the machine, fins twitching at the sudden absence of sound from where Pearl should be. “Don't touch the music.”

“But all you play is musical soundtracks.” Pearl complains. He can hear her feet scuffing over the floor, dragging herself back towards the till. “Don't you get bored?”

“Don't you get bored of trying and failing?”

“I’ll succeed one day.”

He scoffs a laugh. “Maybe when I'm dead.”

Pearl huffs a laugh. “Not far off by the looks of it,” she’s leaning closer a moment later, hair slipping over her shoulder as she forces him to look at her. “How much have you been sleeping recently?”

“Not enough.”

He sets Tango’s drink on a saucer, shuddering at the thought of how much caffeine it contains- he doesn't shy away from strong coffee, but Tango scares him. Jimmy’s hot chocolate is far less stressful to think about for prolonged periods of time.

“That’s not an answer, Scott.” Pearl’s eyes are sad as she looks at him, the freckles on her cheeks glinting beneath the light, like tiny stars. “Is it about…” she trails off, but the silence is more meaningful than any words would be.

He fixes her with a glare, picking the drinks up. “I'm taking these to the lovebirds.”

“That’s not-” Pearl cuts herself off with a sigh as he walks away. He does his best to ignore the guilt he feels, settling heavy in his chest, brushing it off as he sets the drinks down in front of Tango and Jimmy.

They've sat down with Martyn, Tango listening excitedly as Martyn tells him some story or another. Jimmy looks like he wants to melt into the floor. Tango thanks him for the drinks, and he gets a muffled sentence from Jimmy that could be a thank you but could also be him pleading for a swift death.

He’s just glad that Cleo’s not here this afternoon, leaving the bar counter empty. It looks almost lonely without Pixl or Cleo occupying it with their rocks and their notes. But he’s still glad she’s not here, because while Pearl will continue to look at him with sad eyes in the hopes that he might crack (which has never worked in the past and will continue to not work), Cleo would strongarm any answers out of him, regardless of who is listening. And he knows who he is more equipped to deal with on two hours sleep.

He checks the clock, praying for the seconds to start ticking faster.

(He thinks the clock starts going slower, just to spite him.)

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