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It was five past six when Fergus tiredly stumbled into a small diner that had a large, glowing sign that read Derby House Diner

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It was five past six when Fergus tiredly stumbled into a small diner that had a large, glowing sign that read Derby House Diner. He blinked his green eyes up at the gold-rimmed menu that hung behind the cashier, eyes landing on the section where prices were the cheapest. He pushed his slightly greasy black hair out of his green orbs, eyes flickering between the menu and curious-looking woman behind the cashier.

He smiled, stepping closer as he roamed the inside of his pocket for the cash he had earned and partially also pickpocketed. He didn't even feel bad about it.

“Hello, could I please get one large black coffee and ham and cheese pancakes with extra cheese.” he said, voice steady as he gazed into the woman's brown eyes who seemed to inch closer seductively. “Of course, that will be $8.50, sir” she said, pressing a button on the expensive-looking coffee machine as it started pouring into a pale blue plastic cup. “So what does a guy got to do to get discount here?” he said with an easy smile, leaning against the counter as she placed the lid on the cup. She glanced up, licking her red lips. “Be a regular customer, would you wish to register?” “I suppose it depends how many days a week I can see you around here.” he winked, satisfied to see the red covering her cheeks and climbing up her neck. 

He ended up getting discount after a couple of minutes of harmless flirting.

Fergus seated himself into a corner, his back against a wall, facing the entrance. He seemed to have gained some sort of paranoid instincts, always needing to know who came and who left and how many were in the room.

He was a bit troubled by the news that seemed to blare in every coffee shop, so he was starting to wonder if it was really a great idea to murder Mr Lennon that day. But as his eyes flickered on his knuckles, the small scars still quite visible he felt anger rise in him. And disappointment at himself for being so weak.

But he couldn't think rationally, the man was keeping four kids under his roof. He would feel terrible knowing he would be at fault if Jo and Leah were to be thrown back into the system because of his hate.

The man was psycho.

But plotting his murder didn't make Fergus any different.

He managed a flirtatious smile on his face as the girl walked towards him, placing his food on the table. He immediately noticed a small, white napkin tucked between the knife and fork, her messily written phone number on it. She walked away, swinging her hips shamelessly.

The diner was mostly empty except the two chatting ladies in the far corner and one old man who seemed to really crave the local bagels.

Fergus dug into the food, snapping his green orbs up as the door opened, being followed by a gust of cold breeze. He kept chewing his food, eyeing the stranger wearing a dark grey cap and Versace sunglasses. He was average height, yet still shorter than Fergus himself. There was an air of friendliness to him as he stepped towards the counter, leaning on it with his right elbow as his body faced Fergus, yet he kept his head turned away. The sunglasses bothered Fergus more than he would have thought.

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