When The Mob Villian Doesn't Want To Die

013: BREAKING AWAY

And on top of the pavilion is a woman. A woman with brown hair. She sits there silently, staring ahead into nothing.

Lester stares for a good amount of time, before softly makes his way up the pavilion. His heart does not seem to jump out of his rib cage thankfully. His shoes squeak against the stairs slightly and yet the woman does not turn to look at him. Lester did not think much of it, rather he climbed up and stood against a pillar, staring at the woman.

There is a silence in the air, as both of them just stared: the woman eyeing the empty white table cloth, dazed and Lester staring at the woman with unexplainable blankness in his eyes. Even he seemed to be dazed, thoughts elsewhere.

"Take a seat."

Lester blinks, now staring at the woman, who finally seems to have noticed him. She is not staring at him though, rather she is keeping her head down, seemingly tracing the lace pattern on the tablecloth. Lester looks on, before slowly walking over and pulling back a chair that sat right in front of the woman and takes his seat.

Another moment passes by, as both of them stare down at the table cloth, seemingly to either not wanting to speak or not being able to find words to speak.

But the moment is broken when a maid arrives with a rolling cart. Lester gives a glance, before turning back to looking over the lace work on the cloth. The maid takes up a tray and walks over to them, and puts down a three tier pastry holder. It did not hold many desserts though: there were brownies filled with cashew, cookies and jam and some...mango mousse pastries?

Then the maid puts down two cups, decorated with green and pink florals. And then comes a teapot, big and also with the same designs as the cups. The maid pours down some of the hot liquid into each cup. And then she bows, to which the woman waves her hand, signaling her to leave. The maid does as told and goes back down to the rolling cart and proceeds to walk away with it. As the rolling sound disappears, Lester takes a look into his cup. It is filled with a hot, almost honey brown colored liquid. Its fragrance bespoke sweetness and cinnamon.

"It's cinnamon tea." The woman speaks again, as her hand slowly comes over her teacup handle and holds it. And then she brings it to her lips to take a sip. As she puts the cup down, she says again, "It is good for your health."

Lester feels a slight arising spite in his heart, but he forces it down, and takes the cup to his lips too. Taking the smallest sip, he feels a mixture of sweetness and spice, the cinnamon fully felt. It is a good drink. But Lester holds his tongue from saying that.

"I hope you find it as a suitable substitute for mint tea," the woman says, yet Lester finds no sign of remorse in her eyes. Rather, there is nothing but blankness. The lingering sweetness on his tongue feels stale now.

Lester takes a moment but he answers, "It is drinkable." The woman hums, seemingly unbothered by his coldness. She takes another sip of the tea. And then she pushes it aside slightly and motions to the plate by Lester's side. The young boy wonders when the maid ever put that down.

Still, he hands the plate over to her, which she takes and puts in front of her. And then, she picks up the pastry picker and serves a brownie on Lester's plate.

"Do you want chocolate syrup over it?" she asks, to which Lester shakes his head, "I dislike too much sweetness." He pauses and gives a pointed look, "I thought you knew that."

The woman stares, before looking back at the chocolate syrup in the small container, and hums, "My bad, then."

She puts a small spoon on the plate before handing it back to him, which Lester takes mutely. He puts it in front of him and stares at it, not eating. The woman looks on at this sight.