A/N: Well, this was fun to write, one month later haha. Hope you guys are still interested in this story because I'm honestly enjoying writing this :D

To those who like this story for some reason, thank you so much for the support and for helping me somehow get into the Top 9 of the Watty's :))

So, here's the next action packed installment. Hope you like cheese and blood! Feel free to tell me what you think and to correct me on any errors you may found because I'm pretty sure there's a lot since I'm still plagued with so much business. -.-

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Chapter 4

The rest of the day passed by, well, uneventfully. Have I ever mentioned how much I hate guard duty? Because I do. It just always seemed like such a lazy job - sitting back and waiting for something exciting to happen. I much preferred going out there and actually stopping the would-be criminals before they got the chance to take a single step towards whatever I was supposed to be guarding. Of course, it's gotten me in heaps of trouble with the company whenever I left my post but they can't really complain in the face of such successful results. Well, except that one time...how was I supposed to know there was a bomb there?

Regardless, I spent most of the day watching over Danielle, which was pretty difficult to do from the inside of a building across the street. I couldn't really skip out again or else my plump-but-pretty boss would be sure to fire me this time. I was already stretching my luck with her and I think the only reason she hasn't fired me yet was because of Dan's prodding.

So, I behaved. I sat at the register, taking orders, serving up drinks. It wasn't that bad a job really. Good pay, good hours, the customers were bearable, and the scents around me were pleasant. Over the months I worked at The Coffee Bean, I'd grown accustomed to the different smells of exotic coffee and tea. It calmed me for some reason; muffled my enhanced smell enough that my brain didn't overload.

I guess that's another reason I decided to behave - I actually liked working here. It wasn't boring paperwork or anxiety-inducing espionage. It was just a normal coffee shop job. And I liked feeling normal. If I didn't feel like I owed the company so much...I probably would've quit and worked full-time with Jenna instead.

At five o'clock, I ended my shift and traded off with another employee.

"Have a nice night, Jen," I said after tossing my apron back into its locker.

Jenna snorted, turning her attention away from the papers she was looking over. "Leaving already? Aren't you going to try and make up for yesterday?" she asked, glancing at me over her spectacles.

"Sorry, I can't tonight. I promised to walk Dan home," I explained.

A knowing smile touched her features. "Oh...that's nice," she said patronizingly, obviously amused.

I held up my hands. "It's not what you think," I defended. "It's just that she had a bit of a rough night yesterday."

Jenna's smile faded, creases of worry appearing on her forehead. "Oh, dear, she told me about that, too. Honestly, I cannot understand why she refuses to go the police with this. It'd be a lot safer than having you play bodyguard...no offense," she added quickly.

I shrugged. "None taken." I decided not to laugh at the idea that cops would be more efficient than me. Oh, if only she knew.

After making sure my replacement was all set up at the counter, I headed for the bookstore across the street where Dan worked. The Small Bookshop was, well, just that, a very small book shop owned by a similarly small old man. Mr. Geezer (don't laugh, that's his real name and I stand by it) had owned the shop for close to 50 years, and it didn't look like he had any plans on stopping just yet, despite not having any progenies to inherit it. I'm not sure how The Small Bookshop has survived all these years, what with being sandwiched between two competitors, but Mr. Geezer never seemed to run out of customers.

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