The Watcher

45. Aslo

"Well? Why are you here?" I pushed when Aslo chose to continue munching peanuts instead of answering.

He flashed me an impish grin, no doubt hearing the hard edge in my voice.

"Can't friends catch up with their friend's ex almost-girlfriend?" he countered when I cast him a bored scowl.

He threw a peanut into the air and caught it, throwing me an arrogant smirk before casually scanning the room. "I was told to check in."

His eyes slid to mine. "On the flat." He paused, snaffling more peanuts. "With all this nasty weather, the repairs have taken longer than usual. I was asked to make sure there was no permanent damage."

It was true the weather had been a fraction more shit than usual. Most winters here were grey and icy, alternating between crisp clear days and dark heavy clouds laden with snow. But recently, there had been countless days which had been washed out with dismal downpours or brutal lashing winds. Whenever I cared to notice, I could only find some sardonic appreciation for the way the weather matched my mood. With the wind slicing and whipping on the days I'd thought of Book Boy most, or fat heavy raindrops thundering against my skin when that throb in my chest clawed at my throat. Like Mother Nature was camoflaging and coaxing the tears that threatened to fall.

It was all coincidental bullshit. Although, somehow it was a more palatable theory, than the reality that global warming was fucking up the seasonal cycles.

"I would have thought you'd have something more important to do, aside from playing landlord," I said pointedly, although I couldn't see his book anywhere.

"I'm on sabbatical." Aslo grinned as he tossed another salted peanut in the air and swallowed it.

"Watchers take sabbaticals?"

"They do if the Council tell them to," he added before he lightly sucked the remnants of salt from his fingers and thumb.

He seemed so blasé, like he didn't give a damn whether someone overheard our conversation. Or maybe it was just that he knew that he was more than capable of fixing the problem, either through magic or force.

Curiosity piqued, and before I could stop myself, I asked, "what did you do?"

Another smirk curved across his lips. "I followed orders."

I raised an eyebrow at his nonchalant tone, and in a rare show of humility his hand scratched through his cropped sandy coloured hair. "Do you remember that little fire on the News a couple of years ago?"

I gaped, despite myself. "That was you?" The 'little fire' had been watched by the entire world. Art historians had almost been in tears at the priceless artworks lost to the flames, not to mention the damage done to the cathedral itself. Like many, I'd been horrified to see the flames licking against the beautiful stained glass windows and carved stone.

Aslo's wide shoulders rolled as he shrugged. "They said to get the guy to meet the girl. They didn't say how. I figured tragedy brings people together."

He stretched out in the chair. "The Council had a different opinion. They said I'd committed a breach of due diligence, used unnecessary actions. Blah blah blah," he recited as if reading from a rule book. "They took a few pages off me, and I've had nothing but bullshit orders since."

He gave a nonchalant wave as he pulled a packet of cigarettes from his denim shirt pocket and slipped one between his lips.
"I suppose I'm meant to be thinking about what I did. Like I give a fuck if I've got no 'purpose'." The cigarette bobbed as he grumbled, reaching for the lighter.

I snatched the cigarette from his lips and snapped it, dropping it on the table. Again, his grey-blue eyes lit with a challenge. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end at the heat simmering in his gaze.