Vermont Baby

· Drinks ·

Slamming his empty shot glass back down on the table, Phil's eyes slide to the entrance.

Opening the door, a large group, all wearing suits, struts in.

Familiarity is aware in the back of Phil's brain when he glances around the group, but he ignores it, and them, turning his attention to the man next to him. "How much?"

"Thirty mil. But he's good, I swear; Will take out anyone you ask, no questions asked and hundred percent accuracy. I swear."

The man's name is Gotti. He found Phil at the bar, claiming he knew who he was, and introduced himself before starting to talk business.

Phil grimaces, eyeing him once more.

Gotti wore large sunglasses, covering half his face. His attire consisted of a grey suit with the tie loose and a large coat. Tattoos snaked up his arms and wrapped around his neck.

"I'm going to have to decline."

"C'mon man..." He continues on trying to persuade him but Phil's attention wondered back to the group that had just walked in. They now sit at one of tables, ordering. Phil looked over each one of them, one in particular standing out.

His hair was short and dark, body sculpted to perfection; Phil could tell that even though his suit. The man's eyes suddenly snapped to his without warning. Memories from the night at the convenience store clicked into place. Maintaining eye contact, Phil abruptly stands up, his stool falling over. He looked away from the man and at the mess he made, the trance over.

Gotti stood up, cursing at him.

Phil spilt his drink all over him.

Without apologizing or paying, he strides to the doors and leaves. Outside, he tries to calm his breathing but something nags at his brain.

That man; why did he feel the need to have him?

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Zahn was trying to enjoy hanging out with his members and growing to learn about them but after making eye contact with that same man who he met at the store that time, he couldn't pay attention anymore.

He watched as the man made an embarrassment of himself and left.

"One moment please." Locking his jaw, Zane told the group he had to go to the bathroom, set a wad of money on the corner of the table, and got up. Instead heading to the back where the bathrooms are, he goes straight for the front door. Opening it, a cold breeze swept past him, causing him to shiver. Orbs scavenging the street, he felt the need to look for him.

Why though?

Ignoring the question and trusting his instincts, he sniffed the air.

His nose led him to a street vendor. But buying a churro, was the man.

Feet running, he ran into him. Zane fell on the ground. Infront of him was a pair of shiny black shoes. "I-I-" Upwards was a sculpted chest. Swallowing, he didn't allow his eyes to travel anymore. Turning his head, he got the words out. "I'm sorry," Zahn's cheeks flushed red.

"Phil." He held his hand out.

Taking the hand, Phil helped him up.

"Zayn."

A second breeze swept by, cherry blossoms falling around them, Phil's churro in his hand.

They met each other's eyes.