There's a coffee shop, nothing particularly extraordinary about it, except perhaps the rakish young man seated at a table in the corner, near the back. The way he's seated is most peculiar - more of a crouch, really, with his knees drawn up to his chest; he stares at the cup of coffee on the table in front of him. He won't appear to notice anyone who approaches, but don't be fooled ...
... He is watching.
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