A day passed and Rowan was still working on the recordings. Although his programme helped him pick out the ones with Theresa or Nixon, there were still too many, and Rowan watched them one by one, watching hours of footage without making any real progress.

The two were obviously aware that one day someone might manage to track them down, and they kept all their conversations caught on camera down to small talk. It was a miracle that the camera had recorded sound at all. 

Rowan was getting frustrated, and the more time he spent alone with his computer, the more he was plagued not only by headaches, but also by despair, for he knew he was close to his goal, but he was also aware that he couldn't afford naive hope.

However, after all these years he was getting tired, and right now, he desperately needed a distraction. Matteo still hadn't shown up, though, and Rowan kept a close watch to know that no one in the city had seen Citadel either.

He knew it was his fault, but he still couldn't help but be disappointed. 

Sighing, he got up from his computer and decided it was time to clear his head. With no clear destination in mind, he made his way down the street, ignoring the people around him and just walking, hoping to come across something that would catch his attention.

And in the end, it didn't even take him that long.

At first, Rowan hadn't even noticed the familiar man behind all the boxes he was carrying in such a way that he definitely didn't have a view of the pavement in front of him. And for some reason, Rowan automatically let his legs bring him closer to him, just in case the worst happened, and he tripped over something.

He tried to keep his distance, knowing it was the right thing to do, but as he saw the old man struggling with every step, the last bit of good in him finally won out, and he decided to help. 

Without a word, Rowan took the boxes from the man's hands, revealing his surprised face. 

"Need some help?" he asked him, hoping he didn't sound suspicious. Rowan was more than aware that he didn't look very friendly at first glance, but he also dared say that he knew the man well enough to know that he wouldn't be easily frightened.

The bald man was still clearly surprised, but then a grateful smile appeared on his face. "That would be great. Thank you, young man."

Rowan nodded and waited for his further instructions, although he knew exactly where the man lived, even though he was only at his place at night. At the same time, he chuckled inwardly at the title, remembering how Cecil had called him Sir earlier and how far apart the two titles were.

Cecil gestured for him to follow him and tried to reach out and take at least the small box on the top, but Rowan quickly dodged him and assured him, "I've got it."

Fortunately, Cecil didn't protest and instead joined Rowan's side. And as expected, it wasn't long before he was talking non-stop. 

"I'm not even that old, but my back always acts up at the worst possible time, you know?" To which Rowan just hummed in agreement. 

"My Mellie used to remind me to use different ointments and make me do ridiculous exercises, but without her, I always forget. If she saw me right now, she wouldn't be too happy," the bald man went on, and Rowan guessed that Mellie must have been his wife or at least a partner. 

"She wouldn't be happy about me drinking beer either. I like beer. Do you like beer?" He turned to look at Rowan, who again made only a sound of agreement. 

And that's how the talk continued. Cecil clearly enjoyed having someone to listen to him and jumped from topic to topic, telling Rowan everything from his bad habits to his favourite TV show. And although Rowan always responded with just a mumble, and occasionally a few words when necessary, the man was still happy with his company. 

The boxes in Rowan’s hands were not that heavy, but he was still glad to see a familiar building in front of him. Cecil stepped aside for a moment to hold the door open for him, and Rowan walked past him. 

As this wasn't his first visit to the building, and he couldn't help but notice that there was no elevator, he decided not to wait for Cecil and ran up a set of stairs until he stopped in front of the door to his apartment.

"How did you...?" It didn't take long for Cecil to appear at his side. He was obviously confused, his eyes darting from the young man in front of him to his own door and back again. 

Rowan had two options - deny it and say he needed to rest, or tell the truth and admit it wasn't his first visit. For some reason, he was leaning towards the worse option. 

He had never told anyone of his secret identity, and it was more than tempting. For years he had lived by strict rules, avoiding contact with anyone who got too close. His life was lonely, though he didn't like to admit it. 

As lonely as Cecil's seemed.  

"It's not so hard to guess from the balcony. I hope you at least remember to lock this door," he finally said. 

You could see the wheels turning in Cecil's head, and when he realised what Rowan was talking about, his mouth fell open. "You're..." he began in disbelief before repeating, this time with enthusiasm, "You're..." He didn't say Rowan's nickname, though, but instead asked, "Do you need my help?"

"No," Rowan admitted honestly but added immediately as the smile on Cecil's face faded. "I just wanted to pay you back for helping me before." 

That was obviously the right answer, for the man's enthusiastic smile turned into a satisfied one, and it was very clear that he was pleased that someone had found him useful. 

Rowan waited for more questions, watching the man in front of him, but instead of overwhelming him with words, Cecil simply asked: "Do you want a beer?" and motioned with his hand to the door behind Rowan's back. 

His eyebrows shot up unintentionally, but he quickly controlled his surprised expression and nodded before he could think too much about it. "Sure." 

Cecil gave him another of his big grins and took his keys from his pocket. While he worked on the lock, Rowan picked up the boxes again and waited. The moment the door opened, Cecil went in and stepped aside to let Rowan pass. Before he could ask where to put the boxes, the older man spoke: "Leave them here, I'll deal with them later." And he did as he was told. 

With no boxes in the way, Cecil headed straight for the kitchen for the promised beer, and Rowan had no choice but to follow. Well, he had a choice, but he decided to let his guard down for a change and live his life like a normal 24-year-old man. And men drank beer.

The bald man took two bottles from the fridge and placed one on the island near Rowan. "I always keep my beer cold," he told him, pride in his voice. 

Rowan just nodded and picked up his beer, opening it with the ring he was wearing. He expected Cecil to do the same, but he just watched him wordlessly, a storm of emotion beginning to appear in his eyes. 

"You're not very talkative, are you?" finally slipped out, and Rowan almost laughed. 

"I don't really have anyone to talk to," he decided to answer truthfully. While he shrugged it off, having gotten used to it over the years, the man across from him frowned as if he'd just received the worst news. 

"What about your family?" Cecil asked, his tone cautious. 

Rowan shrugged. "I don't have one." He chose not to mention that it might have been different once.

It was obvious that the older man was considering his next question, but he ultimately asked it anyway. "What about friends?" 

Rowan's answer was the same. "I don't have any." 

The man's frown deepened. Concern mixed with regret flickered in his eyes, but before it could completely consume his expression, it faded as quickly as it had appeared. His whole demeanour changed, and he was suddenly back to his cheerful self as if this conversation hadn't even happened. 

Cecil picked up his beer, opened it with the corner of the island, and then extended his hand with the bottle to Rowan. "To new friends then," he toasted with a smile, and Rowan instantly understood everything. He laughed before he could stop himself. 

Cecil seemed more than pleased with his reaction and waved the bottle in his hand with a grin, encouraging Rowan to finally do the same. 

The glass clinked as the bottles met in mid-air and Rowan shook his head in amusement. Not only had he volunteered to spend the afternoon with the man he'd once threatened, but he'd even agreed to be friends with him. The world was turned upside down today. 

"So, Revenger..." Cecil started, but Rowan quickly cut him off. "It's Rowan." "My name," he clarified when Cecil looked surprised, although he knew it wasn't for that reason. 

"Rowan," Cecil finally repeated, continuing his sentence, "How is your investigation going?" 

Although he could have expected the question, Rowan was clearly not prepared for it, for he immediately replied with a desperate sigh. 

"Not well, then?" 

"That's one way of putting it," Rowan muttered, raising the bottle to his lips to wash down the bitter thoughts with even more bitter beer. 

"I know your case is important to you, but when was the last time you had a day off?" Cecil surprised him with another question. He didn't think he looked as tired as he felt, but he was obviously wrong.  "I'm pretty sure you're your own boss, so that shouldn't be a problem, should it?" 

"Or do you have a secret organisation of villains?" The old man asked with undisguised enthusiasm, his hands braced against the island to emphasise his eagerness. 

Rowan laughed, not hiding his amusement. "I told you, I don't even have any friends, what makes you think I have a whole organisation?" 

"Oh." Cecil also realised the absurdity of his question. "So I was right. You're your own boss." 

"I guess I am," Rowan confirmed, although it wasn't necessary. 

"So you can have a day off." 

"This is my day off," Rowan replied immediately, even though he'd actually been working most of the day. Cecil had no way of knowing that, though. 

"And when was the last time you had a day off before that?" 

Rowan didn't have to think long before he remembered the evening when Mattheo had surprised him with his initiative, and the morning when he'd made his surprise even more pleasant by discovering that his favourite shirt was missing. 

Rowan didn't notice a smile forming on his face until Cecil pointed it out. "You're smiling." He sipped his beer with a knowing smirk. 

The expression on his face changed as quickly as it had before, and this time it betrayed nothing of what Rowan was feeling inside. But Cecil seemed to understand more than Rowan had anticipated. 

"So there's a Mrs Revenger?" 

Rowan's ironic look assured him that there was definitely no woman in his life. 

He raised the beer to his lips, tasting its bitter taste again, but it wasn't long before Cecil surprised him again and he almost choked. "So it's Mister?" 

Rowan quickly set the bottle down on the island and wiped a stray drop of beer that had dripped down his chin with his hand. He was sure he wouldn't be able to convince Cecil otherwise, not after his reaction, and especially not when he already had that satisfied smile on his face, so he decided to keep quiet. 

"Does he know you're an anti-hero?" Cecil didn't mind his silence and just continued the conversation. 

"I'm not an anti-hero," Rowan replied, ignoring the rest of the question. 

"You're doing a hero's job with a villain's methods. That's an anti-hero," Cecil declared immediately, his voice suggesting that he was convinced of the truth of his statement. 

"If you say so," Rowan muttered, preferring to concentrate on the beer again. 

Cecil smiled with satisfaction at the lack of protest and took a sip of his own before he decided to continue the conversation. "Why don't you spend some time with him? My Mellie taught me that you're never too busy to find time for your love. If you have the morning shift, you can still fall asleep at night with your sweetheart in your arms. And if you work nights and then sleep all day, you can still take a moment to have dinner together. It's easy," Cecil explained, the playfulness gone from his tone, as if he wanted to make sure Rowan understood the meaning of his words. But there was more to it. It was clear he was missing his Mellie, which made his words all the more genuine.

However, Rowan and Matteo's relationship, if you can call it that, was not that simple. They never slept in the same bed, unless he counted the one time when he woke up alone anyway, and they didn't eat dinner together, although Matteo always came to his place in the evening. They were not a couple. Rowan never let him get close enough for them to be anything more than fuck buddies, but he still knew he cared for the blonde a lot more than he let on.

"He's not my sweetheart," Rowan responded, ignoring the rest of the bald man's words. Judging by his expression, he did not believe him at all.

"Then what is he?" Cecil asked him. 

"None of your business," Rowan replied, hoping to get the subject over with, and took another swig from his beer, this time taking a proper mouthful.

The bald man wasn't put off by his harsh tone, but he understood that he had touched on a sensitive subject and mumbled his agreement before starting a new topic. "Since it's your day off, how about watching the show with me? It's episode 50, but I'll explain everything." He didn't wait for Rowan to reply, just walked past him and headed for the couch where Rowan had first seen him.

Sighing, he considered his options and decided that a soap opera was definitely better than watching the tapes, and believing that he had gone completely mad, he followed in the tracks of the other man.