Niklaus wasn’t sure what compelled him to ask, but his curiosity had gotten the best of him.
A blush crept its way up her neck, staining her cheeks. He wasn’t sure whether it was from his questions, or the fact that he was staring.
Why was he staring?
Clearing her throat, she nodded again.
“I’ll take one, medium rare. Fries on the side.”
“I’ll get that right in for you.”
“Thanks.”
But his words were lost on her as she had already headed back towards the window that looked into the kitchen. He watched her go, taking in the details of the rest of her. She was curvy, curvier than what he usually preferred, but he couldn’t deny, especially as she leaned over the counter calling out to a ‘Reggie,’ that he was drawn to her—whatever the fuck that meant.
On the other hand, maybe it was just the way her ass looked in that skirt.
Either way, he needed to get laid.
While he waited for his food, he looked around at the other diners, feeling a bit out of place around people that looked relatively normal compared to him. They might all have been out for a late dinner, or just passing the time with present company, but only a few hours ago, Niklaus had killed a man, and was now here to remind himself that he was still human—that he wasn’t too far gone and not just a walking weapon.
Since the very first time he had pulled the trigger, ending the life of a man that had the misfortune of having his name in a file, Niklaus had tried to find a routine, something to keep him grounded and not lost in his own morbid thoughts.
Ever since, Niklaus had went out to eat afterwards. The first time, he’d promptly thrown up all of his food when he’d thought about what he had done. After the third, he was able to keep the food down, and after the sixth, he no longer thought about it.
Death was a part of the world, now he just offered a helping hand.
It had been enough for a time, just enjoying a meal, reminding himself that he was human, but the adrenaline pumping through him wouldn’t stop, and soon he was too antsy to just focus on the food. He had tried to ignore his baser needs, not wanting to taint the memory he had of Sarah, but one night when he had been walking the streets alone, he’d given in, fucking a random girl against a wall, not giving a shit what her name was.
He had felt sick after, but rationalized it by thinking that as long as he didn’t care for them, as long as they were just a forgetful face, then what he was doing wasn’t wrong.
Niklaus sought Reagan out again, watching as she went over to a table of frat boys and pasted on a less than sincere smile. Maybe she didn’t have a forgettable face, but he was still intrigued by her.
At least his dick was.
Most days Niklaus didn’t feel human, let alone have the capacity to feel something other than disdain for other people.
Unbeknownst to the boys at the table, Niklaus watched their interaction, reading Reagan’s body language, trying to gauge how she felt. Within seconds, he could discern that she was uncomfortable, even at his distance. When she’d been with him, she had kept her distance but was at least open. With them, she looked like she was close to running away.
Yeah, Niklaus knew their kind well.
For a moment, Niklaus thought about stepping in, putting an end to it himself since she didn’t seem like she was going to, but with his occupation, it didn’t afford him the luxury of gaining untoward attention. So against his better judgment, he sat back and watched.
When she finally managed to get free of them, she brought over a mug, placing it in front of him, and filling it with coffee from the pot she held in her other hand. She gifted him a small smile before turning to walk away, but before she could, Niklaus made her pause.
“They giving you a hard time?” He knew the answer to this already, but phrased it as a question all the same.
She waved her hand. “No more than anyone else.” Her lips parted, her eyes widening as she realized what she’d said and how it might have sounded. “Not that you’re bothering me or anything.”
Unbidden, a smile formed. “I hope not.”
She stared at him, like she was trying to decipher the meaning behind his words when the bell in the window rang as a meaty hand slammed down on it. Reagan looked from him to it and back again.
“That’s probably your food. I’ll be right back.”