After four // Malcolm & Sasha
The man hadn't moved an inch. Sasha was watching him from the corner of his eyes whenever he was sure the other didn't notice, but one could never know with a witch. Sasha had known four in his life, and they probably were either dead by now, or they couldn't care less about the werewolf they sent to America with a bit of cash and a few words of advise. Whoever the witch sitting on the chair in the corner of the café was, he had to be important, and more powerful. Maybe he had eyes in the back of his head? Sasha didn't know what magic could do, only knew it had allowed him to shift during the day and whenever he wanted, but not anymore. Now he had to wait for the full moon. Watching the man as he prepared an espresso, Sasha took a look around. Humans staring at him. Vampires torn between amazement and hatred. Werewolves who bared their teeth. Whatever this man had done, everyone seemed to know him; hate him, or admire him. He looked out of place in his posh clothes, and the knowing smile stressed Sasha out.
When the clock above him showed it was four, he stopped working, said goodbye to his last customer and took his apron off with a few difficulties. He had no idea what they'd talk about. Heck, he had no idea why he had even agreed, but the man had been polite enough, and Sasha hated being impolite without a good reason. As he always was stressed, it was nothing new. Taking his jacket, he threw it over his shoulder and limped over, knowing the witch would hear him alone from that, if not sense him even before that. Sasha stopped in front of his table and took an inaudible, deep breath, before he smiled. "My shift is over now, sir."