Never Said

7. MIDNIGHT [Jumpon, Atthaphun]

.oOo.

The click of shoes on the wet pavement bounced sharply off the brick walls that framed the alleyway. A cold wind rustled yesterday's news, papers stacked and bundled beside a worn metal door. The slender man paused, pulled the cigarette tin from the breast pocket of his tailored jacket, and flipped it open with a flick of his thumb.

The unlit stick hung from his lips as he stashed the small box then retrieved the lighter from his other pocket. In a quick motion, he lit the tobacco, cupping his palm near his face to prevent the flame from going out as another gust of brisk air blew through the narrow space. Snapping the lighter closed, he safely slid it back into his coat before taking a long drag from his chosen vice.

He leaned his slim back against a dry patch of brick wall, nursing the cig and lazily releasing the smoke, watching it dance and twirl in the current. It was quiet tonight. A little too quiet for this part of town, but after the action of the weekend he'd like a night of rest–needed it, actually. He brushed stray hairs from his face and sighed.

Maybe it's just too windy for anyone to start something in his area.

Maybe there are better things to do than make trouble on a Tuesday.

Maybe it was actually just a peaceful night.

He cracked a smile and chuckled, scratching the side of his nose with his thumb. Such a joke. No nights were ever peaceful. Not in this neighbourhood, anyway. Even though he'd nearly completed his rounds, there was still time for someone, somewhere, to make mischief.

Tapping the ash, watching the red flecks faded to grey on the wind, he ran his free hand through his dark hair, vainly trying to control it. He stretched to his full, lanky height, and readied himself for the final lap around his territory. Before he could take a step, however, the old metal door squeaked opened, filling the alley with savory smells and soft music before closing with a thud. A short figure snuck quietly, slowly, from the warm glow of the restaurant's kitchen. He cocked a brow and watched as a scrawny guy in dull shoes and worn overalls hunkered down and moved to hide behind a pile of well-used wooden delivery crates.

Intrigued, he snuffed the butt against the wall and placed it back into the tin. Moving silently, he craned his neck to see what the shorty was doing, hidden from prying eyes.

And the discovery made him smile and he hummed, nodding his head in exaggerated approval. The boy and his dog sat side by side beneath the only light in the alley, stuffing their faces.

He was apparently interrupting a late-night snack.

Surprised by the noise, the youth froze in mid-chew, dark eyes wide, mouth full, slim hand paused on the back of a small, scruffy-looking dog–who ignored everything as it continued to ravenously attack the food-laden newsprint laid out before it.

Raising his large hands in a gesture of peace, the tall figure chuckled a greeting. "It's okay, kid. Take it easy." The click of his shiny shoes signaled a move, and he slid his hands into his high-waisted pants pockets. "I'm just passing through." He watched with interest as the kid looked him up and down before continuing to chew. A well-dressed gent passing through this neighborhood? Okay. He's obviously not from here, looking like that–and he probably won't be back. He can't be much of a threat, right? He could always kick him in the shins if he had to.

Satisfied in his assessment, the scrawny guy nodded. He began petting the shaggy pups back again, moving to scratch behind its ears as its tail wagged happily.

Smiling with his eyes, the other guy shook his head. "Cute." Maybe it really was just a peaceful night–and this was the highlight. He couldn't wait to tell Tawan–