External Point of View
---
Will froze.
Completely.
His hand stayed resting on the swinging door, motionless.
As if the mere act of moving might make the scene real.
But unfortunately for him, it was.
Before him in the doorway stood a person he had no desire to see, much less see again.
Killian.
The man's smile didn't move.
Slow.
Controlled.
Almost… amused.
As if he were observing an expected reaction.
— It's been a long time… my dear William.
---
A silence.
Heavy.
Thick.
Almost suffocating.
Will didn't move.
Not an inch.
Sam, for his part, stepped back half a pace without realizing it.
There was something about this man that occupied space differently from other people. Not his height. Not his build. Something else. As if the air around him weighed more.
— Killian, said Will.
His voice was perfectly flat.
Too perfectly.
— As warm as ever.
Killian let the door close behind him.
Will's eyes never left Killian.
Not for a second.
As if looking away would already be a mistake.
— Sam.
His voice dropped.
Low.
Curt.
— Go to the dining room.
---
The tone left no room for discussion.
Sam hesitated.
One second.
Two.
Then nodded slowly.
— …Alright.
He headed toward the dining room, but halfway there, he stopped.
That voice.
Deep. Measured. With that way of vibrating slightly in his words, coming from Killian.
He had heard it before.
He didn't know where.
But he had heard it.
He kept going anyway.
Then he disappeared, leaving Killian and Will behind in an awkward silence.
Killian advanced a step.
Unhurried.
As if he were walking into his own home.
— As welcoming as ever.
---
Will didn't move.
— You have no business here.
A short, joyless laugh from Killian.
— Do you really think I'm still waiting for an invitation?
— What do you want? asked Will, planting himself in front of him.
— A coffee (said Killian, moving Will out of his path with a single gesture).
He brushed past Will and headed toward the dining room.
The moment he entered, human warmth enveloped him: the laughter, the conversations, the radio playing in the background.
Everything seemed so alive.
Killian swept the room with a brief glance — the customers, the tables, the radio — before returning to Will.
As if everything else were merely scenery.
---
In the dining room, Killian walked up to the counter.
He sat down on a stool.
Naturally.
Like someone with his habits.
— Did you find what you were looking for?
he asked.
Will didn't answer right away.
He went around the counter.
— Do you want something?
— I told you, a coffee. You should get yourself checked, old man, you're starting to lose your hearing (he said with amusement). And I forgot — I want it black.
Will prepared the order in silence.
His movements were precise. Mechanical.
Killian watched.
— Gabriel briefed you well, he said finally.
— Don't say that name here.
— Why?
A smile.
— Do your walls have ears?
Will set the cup down in front of him with a sharp clink.
— Tell me what you want.
Killian wrapped both hands around the cup.
— To see you. To catch up.
He tilted his head slightly.
— It's been a while.
— Not long enough.
Killian let out a small laugh.
Short.
Almost amused.
— As direct as ever.
He took a sip.
— That's good. I always liked that about you.
Will leaned both hands against the counter.
— Say what you have to say and leave.
Killian set the cup down.
Slowly.
— You know what I find fascinating?
He looked up at Will.
— That you go to so much trouble…
A pause.
— For someone who doesn't even know you exist.
Will didn't answer.
— She doesn't know, does she?
Killian smiled.
— That you've been watching over her from the start.
— I'm not watching her.
— No?
He tilted his head.
— Then what do you call it?
A silence.
Heavy.
— I'm protecting her.
— Of course, that's it, he said, smiling.
— Just say what you want already (Will demanded, in a firmer tone).
Killian then stared straight into his eyes.
His expression changed.
All at once.
No more smile. No more irony. Just that gaze — ancient, cold, perfectly still — which made the few customers who crossed his line of sight shiver slightly without understanding why.
Then, as quickly as it had come, the mask slipped back into place.
He stood, buttoned his jacket with a calm, familiar gesture, and tossed a few bills on the counter.
— It was exquisite. Slightly too bitter, but exquisite all the same.
He adjusted his watch without hurrying.
— Safe travels, William.
He headed for the exit.
Then stopped.
Without turning around.
— Oh.
His voice was light.
Almost distracted.
— What you have in your pocket.
A beat.
— Take good care of it.
He walked through the door.
The little bell chimed.
And the July sun swallowed him up.
---
Will stayed motionless behind the counter.
His hands hadn't moved.
But his knuckles were white.
In the dining room, leaning against the wall near the serving hatch, Sam hadn't moved either.
He had heard everything.
Not understood everything.
But enough.
---