She stares up at him, obviously determined to hold her ground. Her dark eyes glint... dangerously? And yet, she makes no move to back away or tell him to move.
Lucan leans over her, cocking his head to the side. "I didn't hear you the first time, Je...
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♛ L U C A N ♛
His regret is instantaneous.
A frown twists his father's already sour expression. "A waitress?" He pauses for a moment, his gaze defocusing as he becomes lost in thought. "Is she normal?"
Lucan ignores his flaring senses as he gives a shallow nod. "I'm assuming. She seems normal to me."
Domenico shakes his wireless computer mouse and begins typing. "And what was the name of the diner you went to this morning?"
The twenty seven year old narrows his eyes. "Blacktop..." He pauses, his breath halting in his throat as he waits for his father to elaborate.
The older Cacciatore does no such thing. Instead, his icy brown eyes remain focused on the bright screen in front of him. Lucan watches, nearly disinterested, as his father clicks a few times before speaking.
"And what was her name again?"
His response is empty. "Jelena."
"Last name?"
"E initial. That's all I knew from her nametag." Within his next breath, Lucan felt strange, as if he's giving out sensitive information, crossing a line. Before the twenty seven year old can stop himself, he calls out to his father. "Why are you asking this?"
The older man doesn't answer, instead he types away for a few more seconds before turning towards his phone and dialing a number. The air between the two Cacciatores is tense as the rhythmic tone of the call waiting fills the space.
A gruff voice echoes into the silence. "Hello?"
Domenico grunts and leans forward. "Jameson. I have a quick favor to call in."
Lucan recognizes the name instantly. Reggie Jameson is his family's P.I., a man who has come to Sebastiano's aid more times than any of them would care to admit. The Cacciatores owe more to Jameson than anyone else in the world- which is why Domenico refuses to let him go.
"When do you not have a favor to call in?" Jameson chuckles over the line before sobering quickly. "I have things to do, so make this quick Domenico."
For reasons unknown, the older Cacciatore makes no move to silence him. He just presses on. "I need to find the phone number of a woman that my son encountered today."
The ill feeling from before, the one that told Lucan that he's crossing a boundary he shouldn't be, returns. He settles in his seat, his pale eyes falling to the polished mahogany wood that comprised his father's desk.
"Do you have any other information besides her name?" Jameson asks.
Domenico's reply is swift. "She works at a cafe named Blacktop. It's close to downtown. That's all we know." As his sentence continues, his patience clearly wanes, leaving his dark brown eyes cold as ice. "I expect to have her phone number before sunset."
