I sucked in breath at the man. Narrowing my eyes, I stood on my hip, crossing my arms. I knew who he was, even if his appearance had greatly changed, and I knew what he was talking about. I raised an eyebrow quickly, "What ring?"
He gave a weak smile and turned away slightly, then his eyes demanded full attention, "You know what I'm talking about. I only wanted to come in for a coffee, but no, I had to find you here, with my ring," He slammed a hand down on the bench, "How dare you have so little respect for the dead!"
"You're pretty much alive to me..." His eyes went wide and he gasped for words like a goldfish for a few seconds. He clenched his fist, turned away and he sat down at a table, picking up a copy of Rock Sound and reading it, putting his feet up on the table, "So be it!"
I raised an eyebrow, not quite sure what he meant, but continued about my job. Cleaning, serving, changing songs, giving away, talking, entertaining, cooking, the lot. But almost everything I did, I could feel him staring at me, but as soon as I turned to glare back, he wasn't looking anymore, and just hazily glancedndown at Novembers copy. My co-workers tried several times to get his order, but never succeeded, he just blew them off with some sarcastic answer like Mitch Lucker's left eye. This offended some people until he was pushed to the point where he had to apologise and admit his amiration for Lucker and Suicide Silence. He was there until closing, which is after dark. We closed at about 8 at night, before moving off to work at our bar that's only a few blocks down the road. I went back and got changed from my uniform, before coming back out to see that guy still reading Rock Sound. I huffed and approached him, he didn't acknowledge me, "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Its 8:30." I tried to be polite, but I knew it probably wasn't going to get me far.
He gazed up at me, his short brown hair brushed across his forehead. I expected his eyes to be full of anger, that I'd been stubborn and all he wanted was his stupid ring. But his eyes were a blue calm, and he smiled. I folded my arms across my chest, waiting for him to say something.
"No."
I huffed again, "Sir, I have another shift that starts in half an hour at The 555666 and I need to get over there to change as soon as possible. If you'd like to talk to me about the ring, I'd suggest you come back tomorrow at 12, or follow me to the bar. If not, I'd rather you just leave me alone."
"No, not until you leave me alone."
I gave him a look beyond confused, "I'm not harrassing you!"
"You are. For the last 5 years I've been tormented by the thought of some random bitch with my ring! You have no idea what it means to me, what it means to my family, to anyone!"
"It's not your ring, unless your name is Miera."
"Okay, my wifes ring!" He snorted, "Now, listen here you fucking bitch. I want that fucking ring back right now, it's not fucking yours and it belongs with the right family, and that's not yours! Give it the fuck back to me so I can put it where it belongs!"
"And where's that?"
He looked taken back by my comment. His jaw tightened and he clenched his fist, "I can't tell you."
I snorted, and smirked, "Looks like you're not getting that ring then..." I grabbed his arm and started to drag him out of the cafe. I slid open my watch and saw that it was quarter to 9. I was gonna be fucking late! I turned to the man, "Okay, if you can prove to me in 3 days that this ring actually belongs to your wife, you can have it. If not, you can't ask for it ever again."
The man closed his eyes and let out a deep breath, "I'll take any chance at getting it back."
I smirked, knowing it was a bitchy move, "Well first off, you have to come do volunteer work at my bar and tell me your name, and then-"
