About an hour later, I found myself just finishing cleaning up as I fought my exhaustion. I initially tried to look at the time on my phone. Then I remembered it was ruined, so a quick glance at the clock on the wall told me it was already 2:00 am. I had to get home and clean up and get ready for bed. I'd been awake since 5:00 am the day before, and I was really dragging.

I had just finished wiping down the table in the break room when I looked over to where the strange person was sleeping on the tattered leather couch we'd sometimes crash on when there was more than one of us on shift. The sexy trash man was stinking my napping couch up with his trash smell. At least he'd stopped bleeding.

Before he'd fallen asleep, I'd made a comment about his already looking better, and he'd said something about 'My healing is at full capacity' like a freak. I still did not know what he'd meant by that, but my caution warred with my intrigue as I watched his deep, even breathing. He looked so... innocent sleeping like that. He definitely didn't look like a man with a strange sword.

As he peacefully slept on the shitty couch, I'd half-contemplated calling the cops on the landline. This guy was weird, possibly absolutely mental. Calling the cops is probably what I should have done, to be honest. But the poor guy was exhausted, and there had to be a reason he was... the way he was, maybe it was his upbringing or something. Or his culture. Or a mental disorder. Something about him was just off, but I didn't get the feeling that any of it was bad or dangerous.

The man shifted in his sleep, distracting me from my thoughts as his dark hair to slipped into his face and gave an air of innocence to the man who was probably just a couple years older than me. His skin was a rich brown that reminded me of caramel, a color that complemented his eyes when they were open, and he spoke with an accent that was decidedly not American. Yet I couldn't fathom where a man this oddly perfect would've come from or how he'd gotten here.

Or how he'd gotten into my dumpster, and he hadn't maintained consciousness long enough for me to ask him, either. And if that all that wasn't mysterious enough, his weird ass ears were peeking out from beneath his dirty hair. There was something that looked natural about them even though pointed ears were anything but natural. At first, I'd thought they were fake, prosthetics or makeup or something, but seeing them now, illuminated by the low light of the break room, I could tell they were one hundred percent authentic.

Maybe he was into weird shit.

I'd watched a documentary about extreme body modification one time. There was this one guy who wanted to pretty much be a lizard, and he'd had his ears cut off and his skin tattooed with a scale pattern to make him seem more 'lizard-like.'

Luckily, this guy's ears were far more normal than lizard man's, despite the points. Maybe he was the product of some medical experimentation? Or a natural deformity? Or he was an alien from another planet? Or—

Damn, I needed sleep.

Part of my mind was going on tangents that the rest of my mind was too tired to keep up with. Shaking my head, I decided it was time for answers.

With a slight exhalation of frustration, I stomped over to the mystery guy and placed my hand on his shoulder. When he didn't move, I gave him a rough shake that left me jumping in surprise when he immediately jolted awake and grabbed my wrist. His honey-colored eyes were passive as I spoke with no actual heat to my voice.

"Hey, trash man, bar's closing. You won't let me call the cops, but I gotta close up and get home and get to sleep. I've been awake since the dawn of time."

The guy's eyes widened in surprise as he ignored my 'dawn of time' comment. "Is this not your place of residence?"

I laughed, and the sound surprised him enough that he let go of my wrist as if it'd just burned him. "What? No. I may spend all my time here because Edgar is the shittiest boss ever, but I don't live here. I've got a studio down the street."

"A studio? You're an artist?" As he inquired, he rose to a sitting position on the couch, moving as if he now felt no pain at all.

And he still hadn't put his shirt back on, so I smiled inwardly as my gaze slid over his pecs.

"Hmm? Art?"

"Your studio?" He pressed, drawing me back to the moment and giving me a bemused look that drew a blush to my cheeks.

"Oh! Not an art studio. A studio apartment. Bed and kitchen and living room all in one. Rent kicks my ass still, but costs less than an actual apartment with rooms would."

He nodded solemnly. "I see. Well... I suppose we should leave this coffee shop, then."

When he stood, I realized once more how much taller than me he was, and I shrugged as I led him out the back door then locked it behind me. "You seem to be feeling better already."

The man didn't answer immediately, looking up and down the street as if he were scanning for some kind of danger. He still had his sword in a holder on his back, and I didn't miss his hand inching towards it. But when he finally spoke, his voice was calm. "I am healing properly now."

"Yeah. So you said. I... look," I sighed, my voice growing serious and leading him to shift his gaze so that he could regard me with an expression bordering on worry. Those eyes were so intense, and I suddenly found my mouth devoid of moisture. After a few moments, I forced myself to swallow then take a deep breath before continuing.

"There's a homeless shelter a few blocks over. Maybe you can't go to the cops, but you could go there for the night. I mean... you don't have anywhere to go, do you?"

The man's gaze grew sad as he looked down at a ring I'd only just noticed adorning his left hand. I couldn't see all the details in the low light, but the swirling pattern looked decidedly intricate... and expensive.

Maybe he'd been stabbed in a robbery attempt?

"No. I fear I can't go home unless... certain conditions are met."

I frowned. "Like... someone has a restraining order against you or something?"

He shook his head, looking up at the rooftop of the coffee shop, his eyes full of thought and some deep emotion that I couldn't readily identify.

"No."

I sighed, rubbing my fingers through my hair only to be greeted by a sticky, rancid mess that reminded me I was still covered in trash grime. "I've had one hell of a night, Jon. First that one weird guy. Then you. I'm like a weird guy magnet tonight."

Following my words, Jon's eyes snapped back to me. "One guy?"

I nodded vigorously, sliding my keys into my purse then pulling out my phone and tapping the shattered screen a few more times just to make sure it didn't work. "Yeah. Guy in a black suit and trench coat. Gave me the creeps something fierce. Said he was part of the 'constabulary'. Also gave me his card. Told me to call him if I remembered seeing anything odd."

"When was this?"

The worry in his voice caused me to look up at him once more, and I promptly found my gaze pinned by his amber-colored glare. "Umm... right before I found you, pretty much."

For whatever reason, my words caused the man to scan the darkness with renewed trepidation. After a few long moments, the sinister howling of wind as it funneled down the alleyway caused me to shiver.

He spoke in a barely audible whisper. "You should get home, Lottie."

The plea in his voice gave me pause just as random thunder and lightning sounding in the distance made me yelp and involuntarily grab the guy's forearm before I immediately let him go. Frowning at myself, I spoke. "It wasn't supposed to rain tonight."

Sure enough, though, I felt a few fat raindrops fall on my face as I looked at Jon in confusion. The man offered me a faint grin of assurance that fell almost as soon as it had crossed his face. "I'll escort you home."

"I don't need an escort. I'm a grown ass woman."

"My apologies. I'll... walk with you?"

I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest before I said, "Fine. I still don't know how the fuck you're standing after all that, but... fine. Just don't be a creep and murder me."

He sighed before something drew his gaze back to the building's rooftop and led him to whisper once more. "You have my word. We should move, though, Lottie. The world is a dangerous place at night, and I fear a dark storm is brewing."

I uncrossed my arms and forced myself to ignore my growing unease at the thought that he was seeing something I couldn't see. Living so close to my work meant that I'd walked these streets a million times late at night. I had never felt unsafe.

Well... that was horseshit. I always felt unsafe at night in the city, but I wasn't about to let this stranger think that. So, I strode as if I was confident, forcing the figure to jog to catch up with me and ignoring the odd sense of danger that made my stomach ache and shiver work its way up my spine.

I walked next to Jon with a haughty, confident air until the sky opened up, drenching the both of us in a deluge of frigid rainwater and forcing us to sprint the rest of the way to my apartment as I began shivering thanks to the cold fall rain. At least the water would wipe away the worst of the garbage grime. And my phone was already dead, so the rain couldn't make it any deader. However, knowing my luck, the rain would fuck me over some more.