The Wolf in the Sheep's Pen(open)

[Rialto]

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Rialto weathered the yank at his ponytail through a snap at Alex's hand with his teeth, stopping short by a hair, and didn't so much as flinch at their next words - he merely got comfortable, throwing one leg over the other beneath the table and looping his arm through Marko's before the fledgeling had any time to resist. Clear eyes fixated on the woman, class written on her handbag and subtle eyeliner, blue marked with appraising interest and his small smile unyielding. "No doubt," he answered Alex promptly. No naysaying allowed, Cat. "What are tour guides for? We have your back, Miss Calibe."

He drummed his fingers on his cheek before spreading them apart, head tilting closer towards Marko. "Might depend on what kind of book," Rialto continued, with a quick wave at one of the waiters over Calibe's shoulder. His local haunts were restricted to his own place to stay and other hidey holes in plain sight, not quite this tame cafe whose primary traffic consisted of - as was suspected - tourists, but Rialto made scenes. He had one favourite. They knew. "Would you happen to know the title?"

The others merely came to gossip? Well, so did he. Only, preparation was his surname. Not five minutes later, there was a quaintly red frappe deposited before him on the table, accompanying the only other drink. Rialto took a sip, and coyly lifted his head off his hand. "I do like to read."

© MADI

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