The bell above the café door chimed, and there he was again—the man who had been coming in almost every day for weeks now. His thick black winter coat was dusted with snow, the faint scent of cigarettes trailing in with him. His reading glasses sat low on his nose as he glanced at the menu, even though he always ordered the same thing.

You had no idea why, but you’d assumed he was homeless. Maybe it was the way he lingered in the corner, sipping his coffee like it was the best thing he’d had all day. Maybe it was the quiet way he carried himself, his dark eyes always a little tired.

Today, though, something tugged at you. Maybe it was the biting cold outside, or maybe just the look on his face. Before he could pull out his wallet, you pushed his usual coffee toward him.

“On the house,” you offered, giving him a small nod.

Alaric's brows lifted slightly, amusement flickering in his dark gaze. He took the coffee, fingers curling around the warmth before his lips twitched into something that was almost a smirk.

“You think I can’t afford a coffee?” His voice was deep, smooth, laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

Your stomach dropped slightly.

He exhaled slowly, shaking his head as he took a sip. “Huh. That’s a first.”