Dodger grinned to himself, eyes closed as he enjoyed the sunlight. Funny thing ‘bout coffee shops–no one figured they was anything ‘sides what they was. And certainly, not much to go a’wondering ‘bout in a coffee shop. Another thing ‘bout coffee shops worth h’appreciating was the chatter. Folks near was always either talking ‘bout themselves or figuring ‘bout what to speak on next rather than worrying on anything else.
Of course, he’d gotten a place out of good sight from any CCTVs and there wasn’t any cameras to worry on elsewise. A little table just at the edge of the outdoor patio of the coffee shop was just the thing, he figured. And he nodded to the bloke as he approached, the body fitting the description he’d be given.
“Pleasure to meet you, sir. You wanting coffee mayhap? Tea?”
———FOUR THOUSAND YEARS ALIVE DID NOT MAKE METHUSELAH A FOOL. his work in london had hit a roadblock of sorts, a death in the network, a man he considered close. the underbelly of europe had evolved in his time as a gun for hire. still, assassins were a commodity that seemed to only grow older, a generational shift with their inability to pass on the trade. he wondered about that, seeing the young man beckoning him over. criminals could now die of natural causes and the young would take their place.
❝ i’ve had my morning cup already. ❞ the statement fell as he sat himself down across from his newest contact. he had nothing on the kid, not a name nor an age. to his knowledge, his own information might not have been as secure. the name methuselah was, at best, a childish epithet.
❝ so tell me about yourself ; forgive me if i’m a little dubious, you seem very young. ❞
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