Let It Be Your Shirt (Story 3 of Sev & M)

Chapter 1

"Severine, can you grab that table up front for me?"

"Sure thing!"

Grabbing a couple of menus from the stack he walked towards the front of the Cafe. The two older ladies at the table were regulars and had been best friends for years, they came in once a week for a lunch date.

"Good afternoon dearie," one of the ladies said.

"Good afternoon, I'm glad to see you ladies are back again," he said cheerfully.

"We are too. When you get to be our age every day you wake up is a surprise," said the other lady.

They both started giggling as he stood there awkwardly trying to think of a reply.

"Now you've gone and flustered the poor boy," the first lady said, "it's alright dearie, you'll understand one day. We want our usual orders."

Severine nodded, writing down their orders as he hurried away to get their drinks. As he was carrying them to the table he glanced out the window towards the apartment. Since the incident with his father when he was working a different shift than Marcus he had noticed him on the balcony more, watching the Cafe. On windy days Marcus's hair would blow a certain way that always made his heart flutter, reminding him of a gallant knight. In more ways than one, Marcus was his knight in shining armor. He sighed, Marcus wasn't on the balcony today and he needed to stop daydreaming.

Turning back towards the table he saw a tall figure on the street corner. His blood ran cold as he remembered the deep voice taunting his dreams with the death of his friends. His breathing became rapid, one of the cups slipped from his grip but he couldn't move to catch it, completely frozen by fear. He heard the splash of the liquid hitting the floor and the shout of exclamation from one of the ladies next to him snapped him out of his trance. Some of the drink had gotten on her pants.

"I'm sorry! Are you alright? The cup didn't break but please stay seated until I get the floor cleaned."

He bent to begin wiping the spill with the towel in his apron. The women assured him they were alright just surprised, then proceeded to comment on his pale coloring.

"I'm fine," he said but could hear his voice shaking, "I'm sorry. I won't charge you for the drinks and I'll go get another for you as soon as I get this cleaned up, I'm sorry. Oh no, it got on your pant leg!"

He was blinking rapidly, trying to fight back tears, hands shaking as he tried cleaning up the rest of the liquid.

"It's fine dear, it will wash. Take your time."

He stood to grab more napkins from the table beside them and cautiously glanced out the window again. There was no one standing on the corner, he took a deep breath trying to calm his nerves. Once he had the drink cleaned up and a new one brought to them he asked the waitress if she could keep an eye on the table so he could take a break. She had seen the fiasco and agreed he needed one.

He leaned against the wall of the alley out of sight of the apartment, not wanting Marcus going out to the balcony and seeing him. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths trying to slow the trembling. Since the incident with his father six months ago he had been overly jumpy. Logically he knew that his father and Issac were in the cells of the Agency and couldn't get anywhere near him, but that didn't stop him from feeling anxious. He heard a sound like stirring beside him and flung out his arm without opening his eyes.

"WHOA!" exclaimed a familiar voice.

His eyes snapped open, "Nora! Oh God, I'm so sorry! Are you okay? Did I hit you? It didn't feel like it hit you. I didn't, did I?"