sorry i'm a shit daughter♡︎

𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗♡︎

After the man had given the boy the address he wanted, the boy wrote down the address on a napkin and folded it, putting it in his blazer pocket. The man got up, turning around and walking out of the doughnut shop without another word. Peeking at the device on her wrist, the dot didn't move. Indicating that Five Hargreeves was in the same spot.

Y/n sighed, guessing that if she was here she might as well be semi-polite and start a conversation with the kid. Clearing her throat, she gestured to the newspaper in her hands. "So, Reginald Hargreeves. Did you hear about that?"

The boy glanced at her, holding his gaze as she looked over at him. "Yeah," the boy deadpanned, becoming silent.

Y/n rolled her eyes when he turned away from her. "Did you know who he was? Before he- y'know?" she asked, moving her hand in front of the page with the big headline: The City Says Goodbye to Billionaire Reginald Hargreeves.

The boy scoffed, picking up his coffee mug, "You could say I knew him."

"Personally I presume?" The boy looked at her, raising his eyebrows. She shrugged, "The way you said that is just- I don't know." She sighed, shaking her head and turning back to the newspaper.

"You could say that too I guess. For thirteen years anyway," he sighed, taking a sip of his coffee. Y/n furrowed her brows ever so slightly. There was no way that was him- was it? "So, the quiver full of arrows is quite comforting," he deadpanned, glancing at the quiver across her back.

She chuckled, "Are they? I was hoping to scare someone off with them."

He raised an eyebrow, shaking his head. "Sense of humor I see."

Scoffing, she raised both eyebrows, grabbing her mug off the counter. "Not a good one according to my mother." He raised both of his eyebrows this time, as if asking her to continue. She cleared her throat. "Which, isn't important," she took a sip of her coffee, trying to hide her face.

"Well, I'm guessing you have a bow with you as well?" he asked. "Or is the quiver full of arrows on the back of your renaissance cloak just for show?"

She looked over at him, raising an eyebrow, "Finally." She paused, looking down at the counter, "Someone finally knows what the fucking renaissance is." She shook her head, "Everyone I work with has no idea what it is. Which is-" She paused, catching herself, "Weird."

"The people you work with?" he questioned. "You're only a teenager."

"Not quite," she shook her head before looking over at him. "I could say the same about you."

He shook his head, messing with the coffee mug in front of him. "It's complicated. But, most definitely not a teenager," he paused, spinning the cup around on the counter. Stopping, he started messing with the handler, "Which is a long story that I don't tell strangers."

"What did you say your name was?" she asked curiously.

"I didn't."

Suddenly, before she could say anything else to him, there was a bell indicating that someone had entered the building. Tensing ever so slightly, she relaxed, remembering something that her mother had told her years ago. Keep yourself calm in any situation. Don't let anyone know what emotions you're feeling, let alone that you are feeling any emotions at all. Remain emotionless and relaxed. Don't let anyone read you. You are the reader.

The boy looked in the silver bell on the counter. Y/n, curious, did the same. And that's when she saw them. Mentally cursing herself, she sighed, folding the newspaper that she had set down on the counter. Folding it four times, she creased the edges before tossing it a few inches away from her on the counter. Fortunately, it didn't fall off the counter.