I'm gonna make it up to you somehow

He ground his teeth together, but nodded slowly. “Yes. Why?”

He took another glance around, just in case. If he was caught talking to someone in public more than in passing, they would be looked into. It would be a shame if this girl, who seemed so genuine, even kind, became a target. Because if she did, he wouldn’t have any say in the matter.

She nodded back and set her bags to the ground. Speedily and a little clumsily, she tore off the bottom of her receipt and wrote a number on it.

As she tensed he withdrew his hand wordlessly.

“Don’t know,” he replied hoarsely. “Maybe. Probably. Not supposed to be. Out much. With humans.” He inclined his head towards her stiffly. “I get. Noticed.”

Straightening his back, unintentionally looming once more, he coughed and went on: “I hope they don’t. Know. That you can see. Like you can. They would want that.”

Cathal had to catch himself to keep from barreling into her. He stared down into her eyes, brow furrowing just slightly, perplexed.

“You look. Normal. Small.” He replied after a pause in which he clunked through some words in his head. “But that’s not the same as. Not much.” Unexpectedly, he reached out one of his formidable grey hands, just barely letting the hem of her sleeve flutter against it in the cold wind that smelled like snow. The gesture was inscrutable—was he thinking about grabbing her? Pushing her away? Offering to take her bag?

“It’s just not. Safe. For you to talk to me,” he whispered raggedly. “Especially not. Here. Public. I’m being…taken care of. Regulators.” His gaze sharpened, watching for her reaction closely.

Her eyes widened, the goldenrod shades catching the winter sunlight like a kaleidoscope. When he’d reached out, her arms tucked against her chest in reflex, and Aletta now stood gazing back at him like a wound up spring. The lines of her mouth hardened a little. She regained the mindfulness to loosen her shoulders and glanced over the parking lot.

He stopped dead in his tracks for a second, regardless of how close behind him she was, mulling this over.

“I do not remember which question,” he said, followed with a wheezing cough as he started up walking again. He was like a clockwork man in his movements, precisely navigating the crosswalk rather than jaywalk.

Aletta stopped, too. She grimaced at the cough; alright, that was enough.

Cathal just grunted, glancing at her over his shoulder now and then as she checked out her items. He didn’t speak to the cashier–only nodding or shaking his head, and holding out his cash wordlessly. The bag with the suet and cage in it was comically small in his fist as he headed for the door. Luckily, it didn’t take him any faster to be done than Aletta.

It no longer seemed to surprise him when he heard her footsteps behind him again. “You’re following me,” he rasped to the air in front of him as he walked. “That’s rude.” Even so, he slowed down, just ever so slightly.

He could hear her following along after him, like a curious little cat. He didn’t go any faster, but nor did he stop for her to catch up. Cathal had a feeling that until she found out what she wanted, she might just follow him all the way back to his home.

“…savings card?” He replied finally, stopping abruptly and turning to look down at her in confusion. In his hand was a crumpled wad of dirty bills—better she not know where he’d gotten them. “I use. Cash.”

“Oh.” It was a genuine offer, but his response was more informative than he knew. He didn’t carry a wallet (let alone a card). He must be living a very certain and concerning way. She most certainly did not believe he had a car or a bus pass.

“Aletta.”

He paused. Sheepishness was not on his emotional radar. So he stumped back down the aisle, stopping for a second as he drew level with her again.

“My name is Cathal,” he muttered hoarsely. “You were brave. To try to help me. I don’t think you would, if…hmn.”

That was too much to say. He rounded the other end of the aisle, striding towards the cash registers with head abuzz.

She kept an eye on him as he passed, making sure he didn’t do anything more threatening. Okay, dramatic...

Aletta wasn’t naïve. He could be trying to shut her down for a perfectly good reason. If it was good, then she’d let it be. That was why she wouldn’t say anything about her friends, or her laundry list of ‘projects’, like the Sybil literally possessed by a demon.

A ripple of unease moved through his chest. More things that she should not know. If they found out, they would…

“It cant be. Fixed.” He said finally. “Should be careful. You don’t even know. Who I am.” If she did she certainly wouldn’t have been kind enough to help him with birdseed. His shoulders tensed.

Already Aletta was criticizing her approach. Less nervous ‘sorry to bother you’ energy, to begin with. Aware of her hand by now, she tucked it at her side.

“I am careful.” She straightened her back. “Tell me your name. I’m Aletta. And... the cash registers are that way.”

His steps stuttered. Like a machine winding down he ground to a halt just before getting to the end of the aisle.

“Why,” he asked over his shoulder, half-turning to stare at her. The way he held himself was so stiff it was almost as if he were made out of clay. “Why would you ask that.” The way her eyes searched him made his neck prickle. 

He’d stopped... maybe that was a foot in the door. She tentatively took one step forward.

Trouble. The plastic handle creaked in his fist. She had no idea.

But then he let go, and let his arm fall back to his side. “Galatean. Vampire. Yes.” He offered no explanation for himself or his behavior. The fluorescent lights seemed suddenly harsh and menacing. He could hear them buzzing. Hear the flutter of her heartbeat.

Cathal took a deep breath, the sound rattling around in his chest, and then stepped away from her, moving back down the aisle with stiff strides. 

The smile faltered off and her shoulders tensed unconsciously upon hearing the tiny plastic creaking. As he spoke, breathed, she kept her wide eyes locked on his, no longer painful but searching. He wasn’t just angry; something made him afraid.

Cathal stiffened visibly. His eyes darted to each end of the aisle before focusing on her, boring into her. It was bad for people to know. To see what he was. They weren’t supposed to know.

His free hand reached out and grabbed the handle of her cart, trapping her in the space between it, him, and the wall of birdseed. If he’d seemed tall before, it was nothing compared to how he now loomed over her, as tense as a cornered dog.

“How. Did you know,” he said softly, the sound like sandpaper.

This, she had prepared for. Perhaps not being trapped and getting to see how exactly built the guy was (she could still duck under his arm if need be), but, she could diffuse the situation.

“No.” He replied, and gave another cough. Combined with the mask, people usually assumed he was sick. They weren’t exactly wrong.

“…I put out seed. For them. But only that kind.” He pointed roughly to the economy bag he’d stuffed back on the shelf. Then he paused, pinning her with another intense stare. “Why did you talk to me. If you don’t work here.”

The question took her aback. So he was not just awkward, but a tad unfriendly; she could still work with that. Most pressingly, she now had to decide how quickly to break out the I know you’re an alien line.

"It was just small talk,” she said, fumbling out a half-lie. Aletta swallowed and motioned at the plastic boards and PVC pipes in her cart. “I’m also picking up some materials for my friend. He’s Galatean, he makes them into prosthetics for people.”

Cathal followed her hand with his eyes as she touched the different bags. It was easier than looking at her face.

For a moment he stood there in complete and inscrutable silence.

Then he hefted the giant bag in his arm and put it back on the shelf as if it weighed as much as a pillow. He waited until her hand was withdrawn to pick up the seed for songbirds. The pictures on the bag were familiar.

“…Thank you.” He finally said, and coughed a little. “Is. This good?” He held up the suet in his other hand, the block dwarfed.

Aletta nodded. “Mmhm. Do you have one of the bird feeder thingies? The, um...” She quickly looked around and spotted one of the green metal suet cages further down on the shelf. She retrieved it and brought it back to the stranger, offering it without a second thought. It was so easy to lapse into “introducing alien to Earth” mode.

Cathal moved, ever so slightly. Maybe to give her room, maybe so that she didn’t brush against him as she reached.

“…Good for them?” He repeated hoarsely. His brow creased, even as his eyes remained distant. His head swiveled back towards the shelf. “Do…they sell. Seed that is bad for them?”

They’d always eaten everything he’d given them.