The Silence Of Metawin.

Coffee's for Closers

When it came right down to it, he was nothing if not seasoned in the fine art of holding life in his hands, and then ripping it away with an unapologetic swiftness. Whether it be a patient in his care when he was an active surgeon, not unfamiliar to a mistake being made here and there on his part, or on his own time, when his rather eccentric hobby of hunting down his next meal required strangling the life out of the dish with his bare hands. Despite the details of the situation, Bright Vachirawit Chivaaree was above all, highly trained in his field of closing the airway, thus stealing the breath of someone he hardly knew beyond the parameters of them being 'rude'.

But he never thought he could have his own breath stolen.

And yet, it happened, right there in his favorite cafe. He had a weak spot for coffee that didn't taste like dried coffee beans floating in warm spit (as most coffees did), and as he watched the man who made him forget how to breathe enter his caffeinated safe haven, he added yet another item on his list of things to be grateful for that the cafe had given him. The first item on that list being providing those around him ample opportunity to disrespect him in some way. Need it be a distasteful tone directed towards him or a badly timed roll of the eyes, those who had wronged him were promptly signing their own names on his menu. The second item on that list being providing him with coffee that was actually drinkable. The third, free wi-fi.

He watched as the man with the mess of brown hair and the bunny face, chocolate eyes that flickered around the room, refusing to make eye contact with anyone, slowly scanned the room. The stubble on his face surrounding thick, rosy lips complemented his face structure beautifully, and the individual features of the man's countenance came together in such a way that he gave Adonis himself a run for his money. The man looked to him the way a good symphony sounded, and his presence was quickly moved to the number one position on his list.

He continued to watch as his new muse looked around the room, presumably looking for someone in particular. His coffee eventually grew cold as he watched, as his love for admiring pretty things overrode his love for good coffee. He imagined this stranger being used in different ways, as different media, his brain rapidly envisioning him sketching and painting this stranger's naked body. Or better yet, him using the man's own blood as paint, being careful not to shade too much as his model would be pale, bereft of blood. At the very least, he felt as though he deserved to mount this man's head on his wall, in such a way that he could admire him everyday, as one would for the head of the majestic buck that one had honored every part of.

It was then when he realized those eyes he was so taken with were now making contact with his own, and his breath was stolen a second time.

This was an interesting development, as he had not seen the man make eye contact with anyone else in the crowded cafe, let alone begin to approach them, as he was doing so now. Had the man noticed him staring and would now confront him on it? Bright hoped not. Not because he was afraid of this stranger or even ashamed of his staring, or rather, admiration, but he didn't want to be chewed out by this man then be obligated to slay him for his rudeness. What a shame it would be to overlook a gem amongst rocks.

The man, dressed in a white shirt, big jeans, and a jacket that was one or two? size too big for him, Bright noted, had arrived at his table in the corner of the cafe. During his trek over he had lost and regained eye contact with him no less than ten times, whereas Bright watched his prey as a predator would: motionless. The man was fidgety and unsure with his movements, convincing Bright that this would be easy prey indeed.

"Um, sorry to bother you," came the voice that was much sweeter than anticipated, "but I saw you in here the other day and I recognized you. Dr. Vachirawit, correct? Author of that best-selling psychology book?"