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“Thank you, gentlemen.”
The sensations were overwhelming as they zipped through my body. I didn’t know what to do or say, or where to look. I was almost relieved when Baron Taylor stepped up and ordered a merlot for himself. I got to work with acoming right up, thank you, but then something niggled me from nowhere. A tickle down deep that drew my attention to the closed bathroom door. George was still in there, his whisky still sitting on the bar counter.
I got the weirdest pull to say something to Hans, but I didn’t know where to start other than to close the distance between us. Every step felt heavy, the butterflies in my stomach going insane.
His eyes were so green, and I should have known it. I didn’t need to say a thing.
“Where is George?” he asked me, with a piercing gaze.
I gestured behind him. “In the bathroom.”
“And how long has he been gone?”
“A few minutes.”
Hans didn’t look at me this time, he looked at Frederick sitting right beside him, and Frederick gave him the slightest nod before he got to his feet.
Frederick smiled at me. “I’ll say hello to George when I’m in there. I need the bathroom myself.”
I didn’t get the chance to ask Hans anything once Frederick was out of his seat. He took the action for me, fixing me in another perfect stare before I could speak.
“Don’t trouble yourself with this. Please stay out of it. And stay away from George.”
“But George…” I blustered. “What about serving him?”
“You won’t need to serve him,” Hans told me, and I got an ominous shudder up my spine.
“Is George going to be ok?”
Hans looked genuinely curious. “Would it bother you if he wasn’t?”
My words were a stutter. “Well, I… I like George… George is–”
“Old,” Hans said. “George is a very old man.”
“But–” I began.
“But what?” Hans asked, and he was so cold, so detached.
I looked at the bathroom door and back again.
“Is Frederick going to, um…”
“Kill George?” Hans laughed a little. “No.”
“I don’t understand what’s going on here.”
“You don’t need to understand,” Hans said. “Trust me, and stay out of things you don’t need to be involved with.”
I got a flood of relief when George stepped back out of the bathroom. I was straight over to him when he took his seat.
“Are you alright, Mr Miller?” I asked, but he held his hand up.
“That’ll be all. Greatest thanks.” He drank down his whisky in one and got up to leave. “I’ll be seeing you.”
But he was lying. I knew in my heart I wouldn’t be seeing George Miller again, and I felt bizarrely upset about it. I marched over to Hans when the door closed behind the old gentleman, and to Frederick beside him, who was taking his seat, back from the bathroom.
“What’s going on?” I asked them, and Frederick looked surprised at my question.
