@fxreignprince || C L O S E D.
Hugh stood quietly in the coffee shop, pretending to occupy himself with a dead cellphone with a pair of headphones in — an attempt to avoid awkward small talk with strangers.
“Huge Rock?” The barista called out, confusion obviously apparent at the name scrawled on the cup. The daxamite kicked himself, stumbling over his words as he ordered, and giving the wrong name. He tried to compensate, twisting ‘Hugh’ and ‘Rok’ into something that he claimed was a nickname from school, but he was fairly certain the woman both didn’t believe him and most definitely didn’t care. He retrieved his drink and settled into a corner of the café, watching people from beneath his dark hood as they milled about. Each moment was an opportunity to learn how to further disguise himself as human, to fit in with others so as to not draw attention to himself.
“Mike M?” Another barista called out the name, the familiar man taking the coffee before occupying a seat a few down from Hugh. He couldn’t help but turn his head and steal a glace at this Mike fellow, the features reminding him of someone so familiar but oddly foreign at the same time. He pulled the earbuds from his person before wrapping them around the dead cell and shoving it into his pocket. No. It couldn’t be. The Prince of Daxam, here on Earth? He needed to see the man’s face from the front. It was the only way to tell. Hugh sipped on his drink, paying no mind to the scalding liquid that burnt the inside of his mouth. He took a breath, fist clenched around the fabric of his sweatshirt as he gathered the courage to use his voice to one that was one of his oppressors for so many years.
“Excuse me, but do you have the time?”
