Babels of Bedlam - Part 3

“Hey there, stranger.”

Stig smiled at the sound of her voice as he passed through the café’s front threshold.

“I heard there was a robbery,” she continued, looking to the man from one of the many small, vacant tables. The store lights were dimmed for the closed hours, casting her in duplicitous shadows. Even so, she knew how vivid she was to him. His eyes were sharp and trained to sport the mystic aura that encompassed her.

“Is that so?” He cocked his head, his eyes widening as he so swiftly agreed to play along with her game.

“It is.” She lowered her gaze as she deftly shuffled the deck of cards cupped in her hands.

Approaching her table, Stig set his palms onto the smooth surface, leaning towards her with that troublesome glint in his eyes.

“Was it your cards that snitched on me, then?”

The woman couldn’t help but match his smile.

“My cards don’t snitch, Mr. Thief,” she informed markedly. “They simply keep me updated. It’s not as if I didn’t know what you were up to.”

“Fair enough.” He pushed away from the table and pulling the chair out beside her, before taking a seat. She was a person who exuded mystery with every movement. You could never be sure as to what she would do next. She, on the other hand, was never caught off-guard.

“That’s three pieces, Stig,” she went on, her voice donning a solemn tone. “Your reputation is beginning to become more of a threat to the big players in this little game of chess.”

“You call this game little?” Stig chuckled seizing the opportunity to study her eyes.

Studying that was palpable to her. The calculation behind each iris - adorned like polished imperial jades - was something that would weaken the knees of even the mightiest men. But she was neither male nor man.

“It’ll only grow more difficult from here on out, Stig,” She warned. “If you wish to reconstruct that sword.”

“Eve,” he crooned, soft and gentle.

“Yes, yes, I know.” She knew precisely what he was about to say. “There’s no need to worry. I, of all people, know that. I’m just dreading what will become of…”

Eve paused, her head swiveling back towards the side door beside the café’s counter that led to the upper floor flat. And then it opened.

“Eve?”

“Morning love,” Eve called back as the girl beyond the door stepped through its threshold. She was younger than Eve, younger than Stig, but still barely a girl anymore. She was tall and still growing, and lean, lacking any feminine curves. She would never have them either, Eve supposed, but that wasn’t her fault; she was from the icy north and women born there were meant to be strong, not voluptuous.

In the shadows of the early morning, though, boasting terrible bedhead and scruffy pajamas, she could’ve passed for a normal human girl. If her bed head wasn’t whiter than snow, that is, and her tired eyes weren’t the icy and inhuman blue that they were.

“What’re you do- Stig?”

Eve watched as she hastily ran her fingers through her hair, the faintest of color rising to her doll-like cheeks.

“Long time no see, princess,” Stig grinned. “You miss me?”

“She enjoyed the break she had from you,” Eve supplied, shifting her eyes from the still mute girl. Poor thing. And then her gaze shifted again at the swift drop in atmosphere.

“As did I.” A gruff voice grunted, before his hand reached from behind the girl’s shoulder, forcefully guiding her from the threshold. “We open in an hour. Why the hell aren’t you properly dressed, Isa?”

With that, all inhibition shattered.

“Oh, come on Gramps, give me a minute, would you?” The girl huffed, crossing her arms indignantly. “I was just saying hi to Stig. He’s back, now.”

“I’m well aware,” Gramps assured, the tall, thin man stepping through the threshold. His features matched that of his granddaughters, and though the otherworldliness of his own snowy hair was masked by his aged face, it did little for the cold eyes. “And I don’t care if you were saying hi to the queen herself. You haven’t got all damn day to dawdle.”

“Alright, alright.” Isa huffed, slipping back past her grandfather, her footsteps light as she climbed up the staircase.

“It’ll be a busy day,” Eve informed, eyes on the wind worn old man. “My cards say that you’ll need to order three more bags of coffee grounds for tomorrow. And I’d suggest sending Isa in the back by eleven to make some more banana muffins. At least two batches. You’ll have a group of secondary schoolers’ coming in at about two for a study group.”

“That busy?” The old man questioned. “It’s only Tuesday.”

“And they have midterms Friday.” Eve brushed her cards into a pile before tapping them back into a single deck. “The entire week will be a busy one.”

Gramps gave a huff.

“Don’t worry, old man.” Stig grinned up from where he sat beside Eve. “Sounds like fun.”

“You’re back soon.” The comment was meant to be as icy as it was delivered.

It wasn’t much to worry over, though; Gramps was always cold. Like Isa, he, too, was from the icy north. Cold was in their blood.

“I made quick with my engagements,” Stig countered, allowing an amused smirk to find its way to his lips.

“Seems so.” Pulling a box of cigarettes from his back pocket, the old man beckoned to the thief. “Come out back and have a smoke with me.”