LATER at the coffee shop, two cold mugs lay empty on the table an uneasiness works its way under his skin. It's been a long day and it’s hardly noon yet. He carefully brings a third glass to his lips ignoring how the cup trembles and shakes.

There's another seat at his table and he’d left a full mug of tea there.

Cargo breathes out blowing over the liquid to cool it as he glances at the counter.

A streak of blond passes by the window and he whips his head around. Something is moving outside! He nearly dumps the steaming cup into his lap.

When he turns again searching, nothing is there. Jumping at shadows Cargo, that's all next thing you know you’ll be trying to stab the dark.

 The barista's arrival quickly obscures whatever he might have seen. They both share an easy smile, one that doesn’t reach either of their eyes.

She hands over his copy of the receipt folded in half. Cargo barely conceals a frown, puzzling over the folded paper, it can’t be a phone number, they’ve hardly looked at each other.

He glances up at the girl.

“Who’s this from?” He demands.

The barista merely shrugs, gives him another smile weak as instant coffee.

Well then. He searches the exterior of the note for any other clue, fingers drumming the table.

"Excuse me?” He asks.

Cargo brings his gaze from the note to the now empty space by him. Apparently, the barista had left while he was examining the receipt and is nowhere in sight. The silence in the previously busy shop is deafening. The clanging of pots, mugs and the sound of orders being made has stopped completely.

Suddenly the table in front of him tilts and he’s flying up chair clattering to the cafe floor.

It’s when Cargo grabs the tea to keep it from spilling that he realizes it's his own leg jostling the rickety thing. Shadows, shadows. He reminds himself and ignores the rolling in his gut. Cargo tugs at his curls, he’s ruffled but unwilling to admit it.

What had he been thinking? What possessed him? Nothing, he was himself. The receipt weighs heavy in his hands which are pale and unblemished.

Curiosity takes hold of him while dread gleefully tries to upset his stomach. Suddenly all the tea he’s consumed feels like it’s ready to stage a revolt that will rival the French Revolution. Life is full of choices. He didn't have to kill the man he could have let himself get stabbed or negotiated. Perhaps went quietly with him and suffered Their judgement.

No enemy appears before him that he can fight and no answers manifest themselves either.

He unfolds the paper.

I see you.

Reads the script.

Game set, match They were on to him.