Wolf in sheep's clothing || There was a girl, and there was a wolf ~

9. Tristan

I can see the worry on her face, it bothers me.
It's cold outside and she's not wearing her coat, she's holding her arms tightly to try and keep herself warm but I don't want her to go inside yet.
I want to talk to her, away from the others.
I have a feeling this is the only way I could understand her better.
"It's not that it worries me, of course..." I act indifferent and take a drag of my cigarette as I glance around.
"You look distracted, it could impact your learning process here." I made it sound like the only thing I care about is her internship as one of the given mentors, but it's not true.

This kid could become someone important to me and even if I try my best to avoid it, I know for a fact that I won't be able to.
"It won't. I promise." She's urgent with her reply, looking worried about the internship.
It must mean a lot to her.
"I like the passion you emanate." I tell her honestly with a smile.
She looks at me, her blue eyes shining with something that I can't explain as she smiles back.
She has the tiniest gap between her frontal teeth and I feel myself melting slowly.
She's so beautiful, her cheeks are reddening from the cold and hair is flying on her face with the blowing wind.

I am fighting the urge to do something about it, I can feel myself wanting... no, needing to raise my hand and brush her hair away but she does it herself and I wake from my trance.
"You should go back inside, Simone will give you some tasks." I tell her before taking a drag from my cigarette and exhaling again.
"Are you not coming?" she asks me with those fox eyes that give me pain in the chest.
"I have something to do." I say before she goes inside the station.

I take a moment to close my eyes and gather my thoughts. I can't believe I'm letting myself soften up for her, I don't understand why it's happening.
The only thing on my mind is Sheila, with those foxy light blue eyes and the gold hair framing her face.
I want to have her near me again, look at her without the risk of being noticed and admire every single feature of hers.
I rub my face, wanting to focus back on work and throwing away my still unfinished cig, I go to my car.

Mason is a retired police officer that spends his nights drinking with good company, in the tavern facing exactly on the entry and exit point of the subway.
I park my car and get out, walking up to the door right next to the tavern. I knock a few times and wait for someone to open.
"I don't take the neighbours' delivery, go ask someone else!" The old man's hoarse voice is the same as the last time I've heard it.
"No delivery here, just a new case." I laugh and hear the door unlocking, before his nose pokes out of the little space he's left to see who I am.

"Betty boy, is that you?"
I hate that nickname, I hate it so much it's unbearable to hear.
I nod, "it's me, Tristan."
"Come, come."Old Mason invites me in his clean and organised house, grabbing my shoulders and pushing me down on his couch.
"Uh, thanks..." I tend to forget about his rough ways with just anyone.
"I haven't seen you in so long, you've grown taller." His remark doesn't do anything to me, I'm just sitting there while waiting for him to quit sprinting around the house.
"Here, try this. It's some real good stuff." He sits across from me and fills two glasses with whiskey.
"I must refuse, I don't drink during working hours."

"You used to accept it before, what changed?" He chugs down his whole glass of alcohol and I notice his shaky hands.
I get the feeling he doesn't have a long way to go, no more.
"Many things changed, Mason. I need to ask you a few questions." I lean forward and think of how to arrange the question.
"You must have heard of the most recent case..."
"I have. It's going to be the main topic in the tavern for the next month." He slides my glass towards him and holds it up, just about to drink.
"I wanted to ask if you saw who got in the subway that night." I keep speaking.

He stops with his glass midway to his mouth and puts it down. Thankfully, he's now concentrating.
"I see a lot of things, Betty boy. Are you looking for someone in particular?"
"Not long after midnight, the victim went in and the ones to follow were a couple and a man with a hat." I tell him.
"Right, right..." he touches his growing beard, thinking.
"I did see a couple... they were young, they both wore their hoodies just before going in."
"How young, would you reckon?"
"Maybe your age." Mason shrugs and I lean back, taking in the information.
"Did you get a good look at them, by any chance?" I ask in hopes for a few more details.

"They were blond, both of them. Looked like siblings to me." The old man drinks what was supposed to be my serving of whiskey and lets out a satisfied groan as he slams the glass in the low table between us.
"Did they come out of the subway?" My question is a little stupid as the cameras obviously did not show them walking out, but I am living of hope.

"No, it was just the man with the hat to walk out. Maybe those two youngsters went through the other side."
I sigh, holding my head with my hands.
"Although, I have something for you." He gets up with struggle and walks to an adjacent room.
Sounds of drawers being opened and closed reach me back in the living room and then he comes to me, holding a wallet.
"What's that?" I ask impatiently.
"This was on the stairs to the subway."
My gaze moves on the wallet as he hands it to me and I hesitate.
"I don't have gloves with me, my prints would be all over it."