Sanguine (Kreuzberg Dragonshifters Book 2)

Sanguine Part 11

" - and you know how many shifters we get in here on a daily basis, don't you"?" one of the waitresses was saying to Olli, as Paul and Richard made their way into Sanguine forty minutes later. "We need to keep this place as safe and as sheltered as possible for all who come here. I really don't like this shit with the murders; our people are being targeted."

"I know, but - "Olli started to say, before his eyes caught sight of Paul and Richard and he broke off his gentle diatribe with a swiftly mustered grin at them. "Hi, guys. Your usual, is it?"

"Yeah," Paul replied, in confusion. "You couldn't knock us up a toasted cheese sandwich each, as well, could you? What's this about shifters and Sanguine, anyway?"

The waitress looked uncomfortable and almost painfully guilty, as though she'd been caught out in a lie or had inadvertently revealed too much; she scurried away without saying a word or even properly looking at Paul or Richard, cheeks blazing with frustrated embarrassment. Paul could feel the lavender wash of Richard's confusion through their link, a confusion that matched Paul's own. Olli sighed and shook his head at them, before he pressed one outstretched index finger against his lips briefly.

"Later," he said, quietly. "I have a break in ten minutes. And I'm sure the sandwiches can be arranged. I know you haven't booked a table, but Kris, my boss, said it'd be all right if you didn't. You're one of us, so you don't need to do mundane things like that, anymore. So, the same table you had before, is it?"

"Yeah," Richard confirmed, that time and he looked as confused as Paul felt then when Paul glanced in his direction.

They made their way back to their usual table without Olli's assistance, feeling a little more at home in the gastropub than they had on visits in the past. A few of the other patrons nodded at them, obviously also regulars there, judging by their familiar faces. Paul and Richard nodded back politely; Paul even saw the man with the cat eyes and the straggly beard there that he'd seen before, in the rest-room. He, too, nodded and grinned at them.

Ten minutes passed with Richard and Paul nursing the beers and the toasted sandwiches that Olli had brought to their table, before Olli himself pulled up a chair to join them, sitting down with a groan as though his feet ached.

"Much as I love working here, it really hurts your back and your feet standing up for hours on end," he groaned, as he relaxed as best as he could in the hard backed chair. "I wish I had the constitution of some of our regulars. I must be getting too old for this."

"Don't be stupid, Olli. You're younger than me," Paul scoffed. "And Richard."

Olli merely harrumphed and didn't say a word. Paul huffed, even as Richard stared at Olli curiously from over the neck of the bottle angled to his lips, a stream of Paulaner flowing into his mouth. Richard swallowed audibly, before he asked the inevitable.

"What was that thing you were gonna tell us, anyway, that you were talking about with the waitress? It sounded mysterious. In fact, it's not the first time you've said something mysterious. You've mentioned before about Sanguine being a safe haven," he said, as he scrutinised Olli closely.

Olli sighed and leant back in his chair, far enough so that the wooden frame creaked in protest at the transferrence of weight. He wiped one hand over his face, and when he glanced back at Paul and Richard again, his expression was one of extreme weariness; he also looked as though he was measuring his words, weighing each one out and tasting them, as though trying to see whether they were the right ones.

"Yeah. You could say that it is. For people like you," Olli said, slowly, musingly.

"Gay men?" Paul hedged, uncertainly.