Darkstache - the coffee shop

Day Eight - Part 3

There weren't many people at the restaurant. One sad looking man sat in a corner table, poking at a bowl full of salad. An older couple sat on the table over sharing some food Wilford couldn't see. He and Dark entered, speaking to the waiter briefly and taking a seat near a window, watching the sun setting over the ocean.

It smelled like herbs and pizza. Unusual but not all unwelcome. There was a small, burning fireplace along one wall. The carpet was lush and red. The menu looked delicious. So far, so good.

"I do wish they had croissants."

Dark peered over the top of his menu. "It's an Italian restaurant. Why would there be croissants?"

"Because I want one." He folded the paper back up, placing it on the table. "I think I'll go with a bowl of spaghetti."

Dark sat there, staring at him expectantly. "Spaghetti what?"

"What do you mean 'spaghetti what'? Spaghetti."

"Plain spaghetti?"

"Yeah."

He didn't say anything for a few seconds. "Okay."

"What are you getting?" He asked. He felt butterflies come to life in his stomach. Dark didn't ask any questions about his food. He didn't say anything more about it. Dark just let him choose his food.

"I'm thinking... maple bacon and pumpkin risotto."

"What's that?"

"A rice dish. I enjoy it. I haven't had a bacon and pumpkin one before, however."

"Oh, lovely."

"I first tried it when I went to Italy."

Wilford leaned forward, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. "You went to Italy?"

Darkiplier dropped his menu onto the table. "For work. A couple of days over there to get the job done and come home again."

"Did you get to see anything? The Colosseum? Leaning Tower of Pisa?"

He shook his head glumly. "I didn't have the chance. I'd like to, though."

"I've been all over the place."

"Like?"

"Oh, just here and there. France, some parts of Asia, even Australia."

"Why Australia?"
"The kangaroos, Dark. The kangaroos."

"Fair enough. It's a bit hot for me, though. These suits are quite warm."

"You could always were shorts or something."

He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Not my thing, I'm afraid."

"What about when you go to the beach? Do you swim in your tux?"

"I've never been to the beach."

Wilford could have sworn his jaw had hit the floor. "Never?"

"I don't see the point in it."

"It's fun to go to the beach with friends."

"Ah," He said. "And therein lies the problem."

"What?" He scoffed. "You don't have friends?"

"Not many, no." He thought for a second. "I have colleagues. That's about it."

"Well, that won't do. We'll have to go one day!"

A flicker of a grin. A splash of colour in his face. "Maybe."

Before Wilford could start talking about his collection of swimming trunks and budgie-smugglers, the waiter came to their table to get their orders. "Are you ready, sirs?"

"Yes, thank you." Dark asked for his rice thing and Wilford ordered his plain spaghetti.

"What sauce would you like with that, sir?"

"Just plain, please."

"Plain?"

"Plain."

"Are you sure you don't want something with more... flavour?"

"I'm sure."

"Some cheese or –"

"He asked for plain spaghetti," Dark interrupted.

"We haven't served that before, are you sure?"

Wilford didn't have time to answer before Dark spoke up again. "He asked for spaghetti, give him the damn spaghetti, Augustus!"

The waiter looked away and nodded, running off to the kitchen again. "You know him?"

"He used to work with me." He gestured to the restaurant. "It was obviously the peak of his otherwise very dull life. He had to give his opinion on absolutely everything. He had to go."

"What is it that you do, exactly? For work?"

Dark drummed his fingers across the half full wine glass sitting in front of him. "My boss makes deals with people. I make sure they hold up their end of the bargain."

"How?" Wilford knew he was asking a lot of questions. He didn't know much about Darks life. Why would he? And right now he was getting interested. Wilford knew what kind of stuff Egos got up to. He was an Ego, too, and had killed quite a number of people. Why he did it or when didn't matter.

"I have my own group of people working under my wing." He tilted his head. A challenge. Will you pry further?

"Do you? And just how do they work?"

Darks eyes were narrowed. They weren't narrowed in anger. He seemed interested. "We do what we need to to keep our own heads off the chopping block. I'm sure you can understand, Wilford."

At this Wilford cocked his eyebrow. What did Dark know about him 'keeping his head off the chopping block'? He'd never said anything about his life being dangerous. He worked in a coffee shop – why would anyone think his life would be dangerous?

Before Wilford would inquire more, the waiter, Augustus, came back with both their meals. Plain spaghetti was sat down in front of Wilford while the rice thing was given to Dark. Darkiplier waved him away, adjusting the cuffs on his extravagant suit. "Dig in," He said.

While they ate, they made some small talk, getting to know each other a bit more. They both lived alone, Dark had a dog, no families. Wilford kept the previous conversation on a loop in his head, though, trying to dig out any other information. All he could make out was that Dark was in a gang or something. Where did Anti come into that?

Wilford knew there was a lot more to Dark than just being a man who stopped for coffee on his way to the office every morning. He wanted to find out more. He needed to break through his well-built wall and learn every one of his secrets. He had to.

He didn't know why, but something was pulling him towards the other man, whispering in his ear, telling him to go for it.

He was being pulled into someone's game and, if Dark was involved, he was happy to go for a ride.