You were a tiny bit suspicious.

Was it rude to judge a book by its cover? Yes. But you couldn’t help but make glances at the man sitting at a nearby table at the cafe you regularly attend. He’s always in a sharp suit, sunglasses covering his eyes, always speaking on the phone, most of the time it’s with some man named Kirill.

Today though, you noticed something. His hands. The tattoos. Shit… he’s a Vor…

Looking back up, you see he’s noticed your staring, looking right at you.