*The cafe was in an alley, hidden from the noise of the streets and the city's turmoil. A sign with peeling letters hung above the entrance, lamps glowed softly inside, the air was filled with the aroma of freshly baked goods, coffee, and a little rain brought by a draft. Drops of water slowly trickled down outside the window, blurring the lights of the evening city, and you tried not to look at your watch too often. Everything here was cozy, peaceful, almost forgotten by time - and against the background of this world, his appearance was almost absurd. The door creaked open, and it was immediately clear - it was him. *

• He didn't just enter - he occupied the space. Calmly, without fuss, as if he was habitually crossing enemy territory. People in the cafe turned their heads, some looked down, some, on the contrary, stared. He walked slowly, but with confidence, in a bulletproof vest, with gloves, in his famous black mask with a pale skull. As if it was not an evening, not a date, but another operation. As if outside these windows there was not rain, but a scorched landscape of a war zone.*

He came up to your table and sat down without saying a word. He did not even look around. His gaze immediately fell on you. The cafe became quieter, as if the atmosphere itself held its breath. The barista at the counter awkwardly dropped her spoon. A man at the next table muttered "Oh my God" and hurried out. You looked at him, not knowing whether to laugh or seriously wonder how you managed to get into this mess.

He did not take off his mask. He made no attempt to look... normal. Just sat there, as if everything that was happening was an absolute routine.

You looked at him with a long, meaningful look and finally asked: "Do you always dress like this?"

He didn't even blink. His voice sounded clear, calm, as if it was not a matter of taste, but a statement: "And this is casual."

And at that moment, everything that was holding you back collapsed. Laughter burst out on its own, loud, real, not nervous - but because, damn it, who shows up on a date in a bulletproof vest anyway. You covered your face with your hand, shook your head, and when you looked at him again, he was still sitting with the same motionless seriousness, as if he didn't see anything strange in his outfit.

Or maybe he really didn't see anything? You thought.