A group of giggling secondary school girls dressed in short skirts passed Robert almost making him deaf. Mort looked at them nostalgically and sighed heavily.
"Tell me again Mr. Pedobear," muttered Robert in a bored voice, trying to get through the crowds of teenagers. "What are we doing here and aren't we too old for this?"
Mort tore his fascinated gaze from breasts of one of the passing them girls and gave him an outraged look.
" 'Too old'?" he repeated. "One's never too old for comic cons!" he pointed at the crowd. "And what a perfect chance to get hooked up!"
„Seeing the age range it's a perfect chance to adopt someone, not get laid," Robert sighed grimly.
His companion ignored the provocation and pulled his jacket sleeve, deftly going through people.
Mort was… an interesting person. Since high school he practically didn't change a bit. He still had his waist long blonde hair, the same earring in right ear and contents of his wardrobe have not changed a bit either. He still wore too big clothes with band's names and his frail figure literally drowned in them. The only visible change in his appearance were the evident shadows under his blue eyes, caused by the constant staring at the computer screen. Being a computer scientist he reduced his life to surfing the web, eating junk food, talking in the incomprehensible for the majority of the society language and as it turned out to going on the conventions.
They passed a stand that was literally bending under the weight of manga gadgets and Mort stopped abruptly, staring greedily at the exposed items.
"Why John and Mike didn't come?" asked Robert, still not able to find a single, positive aspect of this trip. The 'No smoking' sign depressed him.
"They were both busy," the computer technician replied, not dragging his eyes from the comics.
"How I love that excuse…"
"Hey!" Mort turned to Robert. "Stop bitching and try to find something interesting for you. You're not TOO OLD for this, you git."He saw something behind his friend and gasped with excitement. "A Warcraft Tournament!" he yelled wildly and before Robert was able to find out what was Mort talking about, he disappeared in the crowd.
Maestrelli looked behind, but he didn't manage to catch a glimpse of his friend in the colourful, loud group of people. He sighed with irritation, letting pass a few kids dressed up as ninja.
"Wonderful…" he snorted. "Leave me alone in this hell full of psychos. I will have my revenge."
A small crowd of girls with cat ears passed him, chasing a boy dressed in hideous, read coat. Robert was almost sure that the squeal they made caused some important blood vessels in his brain to break. He looked blankly at the people, waiting to die of a massive stroke. It didn't happen, so not wanting to be trampled by another, approaching group, he quickly moved out of the way. Any hope that he could find his friend and not die during this quest was lost, when he passed a stand with the same gadgets he had seen almost a moment ago. Being completely lost in this unnatural environment Robert decided to go and look for the artists. Mort mentioned something about them showing up on comic cons, so there was hope he will find them. He was desperate to meet someone who wasn't dressed up as a vampire or whatever.
As it turned out, finding the artists wasn't an easy task. Robert had the impression he had been moving in circles, always passing the same stands with comics. He looked around and bumped on a boy dressed in hideous, blue fur coat. The stranger apologized him, smiling widely and went away. For the next minute Robert was still to shocked by the horrid, blue fur that he wasn't able to do anything else. No one sane would wear THIS. His sight passed through the crowd and a familiar, ginger hair caught his eye.
Robert froze. He had completely forgotten about the mysterious observer from the café. To make sure that that was the same person, Robert tried to mix into the crowd and approach the red-haired man. When he was a few steps away from the table he was sure, that this guy was his mysterious observer. He would recognize this colourful scarf and ginger hair everywhere.
Led by a strange impulse he hid himself behind a group of people close to the Artist. Using the opportunity he decided to look closely at him.
As he had noticed in the café, the redhead had eyes in a warm, chocolate brown colour. Their dark colour distinguished on his pale skin which emphasized with the wild orange hair. Robert once again circled the table noticing even more details. And every minute spent on the observation, he had come to the conclusion that that artist had many female features. For example his hands. His slender, long fingers held the pencil with an undeniable grace. Man's figure was rather fragile. And he was incredibly, Robert still couldn't determine why, fascinating.
Most likely it was due to the simple fact that he had seen him every single day in the café. He even considered becoming acquainted with the Artist because observing someone for a month was kind of creepy. But he forgot about this idea after the unfortunate incident with his suit.
He recalled the free coffee that had been waiting for him the next day and he smiled do himself. It would be proper to thank for it. It was also the best excuse to start a conversation. That was a great idea, considering that they had been observing each other for quite a while. And because Robert liked to meet unconventional people (and he was sure the red-haired Artist belonged to this group of people) he decided to give it a try.
He circled the table and stood behind the Artist's back. He had to admit that his observer had talent. Looking through his arm he could see a sketch of a girl in a long dress who was standing nearby. It was not a realistic style but he could accurately guess who was on the image.
Not having a clue what had tempted him, Robert leaned over the man.
"Thanks for the coffee," he said so quietly that only the Artist could hear him. "That was my favourite type".
In response to the whisper, the redhead jumped on the chair and dropped his pencil. Without looking at Robert he immediately dived under the table in search of the lost item, groping around blindly and muttering under his breath something about "those damned technical pencils". Robert watched those desperate attempts of finding the pencil with great interest. Meanwhile the loss was lying right at his feet. To put an end to the suffering of the Artist he bend down to pick it up and almost collided with the redhead who had just rose from his knees.
For the next thirty seconds they stood in absolute silence, inches away and looking at each other awkwardly. Robert's mind told him that the man standing in front of him had a very freckled complexion. And a very silly looking mole at the tip of his nose. Like a character from a comic strip.
Robert smiled at the redhead who with every second turned into a more intense shade of red. When he had reached the alarmed colour of peony Robert decided to end this awkward silence and stepped back.
"Perhaps you're looking for this," he said, giving the pencil to the still blushing furiously Artist. "You better not jump like that next time. One day you'll pour something on yourself," he added, smiling suggestively.
The redhead took the pencil and immediately looked away, muttering a quiet "Thank you" and still blushing.
That was interesting. Robert didn't consider dropping a pencil a highly humiliating situation to act so embarrassed. He wasn't quite sure if it was caused only by clumsiness, but he didn't want to think about it any longer. He had got into this weird situation and the best think was to make it less strange. He stretched out his hand and smiled politely.
"I get the feeling that I see you sometimes at Starbucks," he said. "Robert Maestrelli. It would be foolish not to introduce myself since we almost broke each other's noses."
The Artist shook his hand, smiling uncertainly.
"Chris MacKenzie," he introduced himself quietly. "I'm sorry because of your suit," he added.
"I'll have it cleaned," said Robert in a disdainful tone of voice. "As a reward I got free coffee. That's a pretty fair exchange," he added ironically.
Chris blushed again but he managed to control himself in a short time. Robert decided not to ask directly about his mysterious drink fearing that his new friend would auto-ignite himself from all that blushing. And it would be shame to lose someone who was that interesting.
"I see that you're not one of those psychopaths dressed as ninja," Robert nodded towards few passers-by dressed in bizarre costumes. "So you're likely to be relatively normal. Are you a cartoonist or someone like that?"
"A comic creator," replied Chris with a smile. "This year I decided to show some of my works," he pointed to a quite big exhibition of drawings and sketches. "Maybe someone will want to collaborate with me."
"Hence the sketchbook?" Robert raised his eyebrows looking slightly amused.
Chris glanced nervously at the block lying on the table and nodded, trying to hide an embarrassed smile.
"So you're a comic fan?" he asked changing the subject.
"Not really. My friend dragged me here and I lost him somewhere. I would still be deeply unhappy if I hadn't met you," Robert looked around. "No offence, but it's a madhouse. I'm shocked that I can perform a normal discussion with you without the feeling of growing irritation."
He got the impression that Chris looked at him with pure adoration, but it could equally be something completely different. Artists, you never know what's on their minds. Chris  was ready to open his mouth and answer him, when a pair of passers-by asked him about one of his sketches. He smiled to Robert in apology and turned to the couple.
"Duuuuuude!" Mort's voice came out of nowhere. "You can't imagine how awesome things I have seen!" the computer scientist pulled his sleeve despite Robert's protests. "Check this out!"
Robert didn't have the slightest desire to look at anything, once he managed to make contact with his mysterious observer. On the other hand he had promised Mort that he would go anywhere his friend wanted. So he let Mort drag him to the next stand with the same, blindingly colourful gadgets. He turned over his shoulder to look again at Chris, but the Artist had been obscured by the crowds of people.
"What are you looking for?" Mort looked at him with interest. "Maybe you have fallen in love"? he joked.
Robert gave him a basilisk gaze.
"You have your computer games and programming," he said. "I prefer to associate with living creatures," seeking Mort's perverted smile he added quickly. "Associate verbally, you horny idiot."
"So with who did you 'associate' with, hmm?" asked his friend, still staring at him suggestively.
"A comic creator," seeing that this answer didn't erase dirty thoughts from Mort's mind Robert added. "Who was a man, so you can stop waving your eyebrows because they may fall off."
A disappointed expression on his friend's face seemed to fit the entire comic book convention crowd around them.
"You know, you should find someone for you," Mort headed towards the exit. "You haven't been dating anyone since you broke up with Liz."
"Or maybe I'm dating someone and you just don't know about it."
Mort gave him a questioning look.
"I'm not really fond of long-term relationships," said Robert searching for his cigarettes. "Limiting freedom is the last thing I want in my life."
"You sound as if being with someone was some kind of a life imprisonment."
"And isn't it?" they went outside and Robert lit his cigarette. "Being with Liz was good because we didn't limit each other in any aspect of life. We could do whatever we wanted," he looked at his friend and exhaled a small cloud of smoke. "But our personalities couldn't stand each other. We would kill each other if we were still together. If this relationship could be limited to having sex, I would have proposed to her by now.
"You would get bored anyway," said the computer scientist.
"I'm well aware of that," Robert threw some of the ash from the cigarette on the sidewalk. "That's why I avoid long-term relationships. People bore me in general."
"I'm beginning to fear that maybe we also bore you."
Robert gave his friend a lazy smile.
"Friends and partners are two different things," he said. "I know you all since high school. Even if you'll limit your life only to playing chess I wouldn't have enough of you. It's a matter of habit I suppose. However, if I had had to create a normal relationship, it would have to be with an unusual person. Not someone I would want to throw out of my house a week later."
"You do have high requirements," Mort waved his hand to get rid of smoke. "Everyone can become boring one day. Isn't it better to have a relationship with someone you're simply happy with?"
"You're starting to sound dangerously similar to Joshua," Robert looked at him. "Pure naivety and incorrect romanticism. I prefer being alone than believe in all this love to the grave bullshit."
"Your cynicism is shocking."
"I call it realism."
For a moment they walked through the city in silence. Robert threw the cigarette on the pavement while Mort got excited over two shops with hardware and one with games.
"Actually," he turned to Robert who was busy lighting another cigarette. "You're all bunch of social psychopaths."
Hid friend who had been smoking another cigarette gave him an inquiring look.
"Let's face it," said Mort. "John complains no one understands his poetic nature. Mike is too shy ask the waitress in the bar for a cup of coffee. You on the other hand can only have a woman for one-night stands and after that you go on your next hunt. Only I'm normal here," he continued, smiling widely.
Robert raised his eyebrows, looking at him in disbelief.
"A guy who maintains contact with reality only through a computer screen in a basement gives me advice on relationships," he said sarcastically. "The world has gone mad."
"You're mean."
"You behave as if you had met me yesterday."
"And do you remember those beautiful times…" said Mort in a dreamy voice. "When we were famous and all the chicks begged us to look at them."
Robert rolled his eyes once again this day.
"It was in secondary school Mort. They had hots for us only because we were a band," he sighed. "But I don't complain about lack of interest." – he added with a smile.
"I don't complain also!"
"Oh I'm sure you don't. Online."
"Sometimes I just don't like you."
"You have to like me," Robert laughed. "Who will repair my laptop when something will break down?"
"Materialistic bastard."
"Dirty nerd."
After a few seconds of glaring at each other they both burst into loud laughter, frightening some old ladies. One of them muttered something about "savages with long hair" and she quickly moved away. Mort looked at his watch and turned to Robert.
"Okay man, thanks for going to the convention with me," he said. "I have to go. Work to do."
"You mean repeating 'Have you tried turning it off and on again?'. Just don't overwork yourself."
"Go and fuck yourself," Mort smiled. "It's a very responsible job."
"A monkey could do it if you had taught it this sentence," Robert laughed. "Just admit that the level of drugs in your bloodstream is dangerously low and need to go back to your natural environment. I mean marihuana vapours."
"Everyone has to ventilate their lungs from time to time," Mort replied. "For example you run a private farm of lung cancer."
Robert confirmed that sentence by blowing smoke right at his friend's face.
"… charming," murmured Mort and coughed. "See you later. Next time we have to take Mike and John somewhere. It's unnatural that we're going out and those losers rot in their houses."
"If you succeed I'll buy you a beer."
"It's a deal!" Mort got excited. "I have to go. I'll call you when you will have to pay your debt. See you!"
Robert stood still for a moment smoking his cigarette and looking at his departing friend. He crushed the cigarette on the sidewalk and went to the car.

Weekends have this strange ability to end in the least expected moments.
The alarm clock rang at 8am, immediately waking Robert up. He gave the alarm clock a deadly glare and turned it off. Moments later Hector jumped on the bed and began to wander on his owner purring madly. A dissatisfied growl coming from under the blanket didn't discourage the cat, who sat on Robert's face with a joyful meow.
"You have your food," grunted Robert. "Stop pretending that you're a loving cat because I won't buy this," he dug himself out of the bed and petted his cat on head. "What is it this time? A wine glass I left yesterday on the table?"
The cat ignored him and jumped on the hair tie that was lying on the floor, taking the opportunity to destroy everything that stood on his way. Robert watched for a while the clumsy attempts of hunting down a piece o cloth and then went  to take come clothes from his wardrobe.  
Passing through the living room and directing his steps towards kitchen he saw a broken cup of coffee in a corner of his eye. The brown liquid stained the table, copies of test results and one issue of "Science". Wine glass stood untouched a few inches away.
Robert threw his cat an impatient look. He always forgot to hide everything for night, because Hector liked to rearrange his apartment while he was sleeping. He took the dishes and set the dishwasher, noting in memory to wipe the coffee table.
Leaving the apartment he stopped for a moment to breathe fresh, spring air. Every single day of April brought more sun and heat. Weather was still not quite suitable for riding a motorbike, but one more week of such conditions and Robert would take a long break from driving his car. He greeted his neighbour and went for his daily coffee in Starbucks.
He crossed the threshold of the café knowing who he will see inside. And he wasn't mistaken. Chris was sitting by the same table as always and he was accompanied by his gigantic friend.
Robert stood by the counter and thought that it's unusual for him to remember someone's name. He had a big difficulty in remembering names of his friends. It took him a month of calling Joshua "John", "Jonathan" or simply "Hey you!" before he had learned his name.
With a cup in his hand he turned towards Chris, sipped his coffee and nodded his head in a gesture of welcome. The redhead answered with the same nod and smiled timidly from behind the sketchbook. Robert drank his drink for a while, leaning on the counter nonchalantly. He glanced at his watch and in the corner of his eye saw Chris watching him. Finally it was time to go to work so Robert once again smiled at the Artist and left the café.

He crossed the laboratory with a smile on his face and put the samples on the table. Joshua leaned from behind of a bookcase and looked at him suspiciously.
"You're in a very good mood today," he said. "Have you seen someone slipping on a banana peel?"
"Haha, very funny," Robert put on his glasses. "I'm not as vicious as you think."
Joshua seemed not to believe him because he didn't respond. Instead he set the parameters of the centrifuge and wrote them down.
"So, is there something new in the coffee arena?" he asked casually. "Secret admirer had relieved himself?"
"Secret admirer's name is Christopher," replied Robert without looking at his colleague. "And his not a secret admirer but a comic artist."
"One does not exclude the other."
"You do like conspiracy theories, don't you?" Robert sighed heavily.
"He's an artist," said Joshua in a tone of voice as if speaking to someone mentally challenged. "They're odd," seeing that his friend still didn't understand the allusion he added. "I mean they have strange view on life. They don't limit themselves in 'some' of its aspects."
Robert laughed.
"No worries," he answered. "If he sends me his own ear wrapped in paper and tied with red ribbon I'll start to worry."
"I don't want to exaggerate but in our times a coffee can be a proof of love," Joshua looked at him suggestively.
"Do you think that when Van Gogh was alive there was no coffee or at least chocolates?"
"Touché."
Robert smiled in triumph and began to measure carefully the reagents. Joshua looked at him inquiringly not moving from his previous position.
"Last week you were on verge on going gray-haired of uncertainty why someone had bought you coffee," he muttered. "And now you're taking it as if it were something completely normal. Robert, this guy is a stranger. And an artist!"
Maestrelli gave his friend a bored look.
"You said it in such a tone as if he had killed someone."
"Maybe not killed," said Joshua. "I want you to realize that all those artists are strange. They live in a dream world and underestimate the power of science."
"You're starting to creep me out."
"You don't understand me, do you?"
"Honestly, no."
Joshua sighed with exaggeration.
"I'm just saying it's better to have an eye on him," he said. "You never know. By the way, why did he buy you this coffee."
"I have no idea," Robert cleaned his glasses. "Maybe he has hots for me."
"You're insane."
"No, I'm just feeding your perversions," Robert laughed.
They fell silent for a moment. Meanwhile one of their sponsors crossed the laboratory, giving them a suspicious look and talking by his cell phone. When he left the lab, Joshua sighed.
"To hell with health and safety. This idiot doesn't even wear a lab coat when he enters here," he growled.
"Maybe he likes when something nasty sticks to his cheap suit."
"Oh please, not your theories about his suits," Josh moaned pitifully. "Anyway, how does your artist Chris look like?" he changed the subject.
"No more stories about "immoral artists?" asked Robert raising his eyebrows.
"Drop it and talk. If you will ever be found dead in the rubbish I'll know who I should be afraid of."
Robert laughed briefly and fixed his eyesight on the samples, trying to recall the image of Chris.
"He's ginger," he said because this was the most characteristic feature of the Artist. "Not too tall and quite thin," he tried to recall more details of the appearance. For example those amazing, brown eyes…
"Earth to Robert," he heard Joshua's voice. "You're not looking very conscious," said Joshua giving him a concerned look. "Are you sure you're describing a guy?"
Robert gave him a murderous look.
"And he has freckles," he snapped.
"Excuse me, from what distance have you seen him?"
"A couple of inches," replied Robert. "We stumbled on each other."
While Joshua loudly drew air, failing to believe what he had heard. Robert recalled how he had felt a mixture of smells of cotton, paint and something really fresh when Chris was so close. He didn't want to admit it, but the feeling seemed to be strangely pleasant, almost seductive for him. He brushed away those thoughts and looked at the still shocked friend.
"Can you breathe or I'll have to find someone who will give you resuscitation?"
Joshua snorted contemptuously and turned to his stand with samples.
"You know what Maestrelli?"  he asked without looking at Robert. "You're a psychopath."
"And you truly love me for that."
Josh rolled his eyes with and indulgent smile and focused on work.

By the next week Robert have seen Chris in the café almost every day. He entered the cafeteria, ordered coffee, greeted the Artist and left. And it began to irritate him.
Since they knew each other's names why they limited their contact to one nod a day? Robert didn't see any logical argument for this kind of behaviour. After a month of observations and the whole "coffee attack" they were still at the same point. It had no sense at all.
On the other hand why did he even think about it? Robert noticed that lately he had been asking himself too many questions without answers. And it was so unlike him. Living his whole life in a pure harmony with his own points of view he considered this kind of problems extremely undesirable. Being not a great fan of humanity Robert didn't think about people issues, considering them not worthy his precious time. However, for unknown reasons Chris' silence seemed to be frustrating for him. With each passing day he gave the Artist a more determined look, as if trying to force him to do something.
Waiting for his coffee and staring at the redhead Robert asked himself another, disturbing question. Why did he want Chris to react so badly? The logical thinking at this point had absolutely nothing to say. Some deeply hidden part of Robert's psyche treated this situation like a very peculiar form of hunt. He didn't want to know what kind of hunt it was.
His rational part on the other hand told him that his interest was based on an innocent, friendly aspects. And despite the fact that since kindergarten Robert wasn't interested in anyone in a friendly area, he liked this idea better. Problem solved.

A usual Chris sat at the same table and traditionally had a cup of cappuccino in front of him. He looked at Robert shyly and smiled at him. Robert greeted him with a nod, ordered coffee and decided that it was time to make another step forward. He took his mug and went towards Chris, put his mug on his table and smiled.
"I have a great idea," he said to Chris, who literary turned into stone with a cup halfway to his mouth. "Maybe instead of constant 'hellos' every day we should go and grab a coffee together? All in all, we're both probably already coffeeholics, so what's the difference in drinking one more?"
Within about ten seconds Chris's face went through the whole scale of shades of red when he put down his cup and smiled slightly.
"With pleasure," he answered. "But don't you work in some kind of office? Because it could be difficult to meet when you have work so early."
"I work in a genetic laboratory," Robert said. "And tomorrow I have an off day. Can we just see each other a bit later than 8am? Sometimes I need to get some sleep."
"Of course," Chris closed his sketchbook. "11am is okay?"
"Fits," Robert glanced at his watch and took his coffee. "See you tomorrow."
He left the café and went towards his car, disturbingly pleased with himself.

He found Joshua in the lobby next to the coffee machine. Josh with a blissful expression on his face oozed his hot drink and read the morning paper. Theatre programme for April stuck out of his lab coat pocket. Robert who had just finished his coffee threw the cup into the trash bin and stood behind Joshua, shamelessly looking over his shoulder at the newspaper.
"You're well aware that I hate when someone reads over my shoulder," muttered Joshua not taking his eyes from the article.
"Will there ever be a day you'll be late for work?" asked Robert not ceasing to read the paper from behind of his friend.
"If this ever happens, it'll be probably because of some extremely dramatic situation," Josh closed the newspaper to Robert's displeasure. "The end of the world, for instance."
Robert rolled his eyes and to annoy Joshua ruffled his brown hair. Ignoring the murderous look his friend gave him he went towards the laboratory.
Robert knew Joshua from university and they had very friendly relations. Despite the fact that they were both inevitably coming closer to the horrifying limit of thirties , they were still able to argue about silly things and afterwards fool around as if nothing had happened. Josh was the only person to whom Robert could say everything about himself. Of course Robert's nasty nature forced him to occasional tormenting his friend (who did the same thing to him) but Joshua was the one of a few people Robert tolerated. He treated the rest of the world like idiots, because he believed that was what people deserved.
Knowing that Joshua probably more likely will choke on his coffee when he hears information about Chris, Robert waited patiently for him to finish. Trying to sound normal Robert did not even look and Joshua when he finally said:
"I asked Chris out. I mean we're going for a coffee."
Unfortunately Robert didn't assume that Joshua will be holding a glass beaker. The moment he opened his mouth he had heard a sound of broken glass, when Joshua dropped the flask. He turned to him raising his eyebrows.
"What the hell are you doing?" he asked.
"Are you gay?" Joshua didn't move a bit and looked at him with deadly serious expression.
Robert sighed heavily.
"No," he answered. "Did I say that I invited him to dinner with candles or for a drink? It's coffee. At 11am. I think it doesn't fit to the category of dating. And besides, I thought he was interesting."
"Nobody is interesting for you."
"He is."
"So you're gay."
Robert raised his eyes to the ceiling and groaned desperately.
"Sometimes you're terribly trivial," he said.
"And when did you recently invite a stranger for a coffee, hmm?"
"You in college," Robert replied without a second thought. "I needed someone who had notes from lectures and coffee seemed to be the best bait for you."
"University doesn't count," muttered Joshua.
"Josh, are you trying to convince me that I'm gay?"
"If I had invited a strange man for a coffee you would be making fun of me for the next millennium," snorted Joshua.
"I'm always making fun of you."
If eyes could kill, Robert would be dead within fractions of seconds. However, Joshua's serious expression was put to the test, because Robert's face had the same, irritating smile on it. Joshua finally smiled.
"I have to be a masochist to still be able to cooperate with you," he sighed.
"We create an ideal S&M balance," replied Robert.
Joshua just shook his head. Actually he should feel honored. He was the only person in the world to whom the face of The Great Lord Maestrelli sometimes changed from the cool superiority to something almost human. So for the most of the time he just ignored Robert's mean comments. That was a part of his personality. Joshua discovered that Robert could only be loved or hated with passion.
He turned to his friend who was focused on reading some test results.
"I will begin to worry about your sexual orientation when you'll ask him for a drink," he said.
"You should start to worry when I begin to molest you."
"May this day never come."
Robert was about to respond when a group of students under a watchful eye of one of the workers entered the laboratory. He threw them a murderous look. Robert was not able to tolerate student internships. Half of the samples disappeared, none of the students had any idea what to do and everything in general fell apart when they were in the laboratory.
He threw Joshua a resigned look and leaned over his sample, waiting for the first sound of broken by the students glass.

Without opening his eyes Robert found his glasses on the bedside table and put them on the nose. When his eyes got used to the sudden brightness and sharpness of surroundings he looked at his watch.
8am. A bit too early when one has a day off.
Robert stretched lazily, dressed himself in a bathrobe and went to the kitchen to make some coffee.
He passed slowly through the kitchen, hearing the sounds of the coffee maker and poured Hector some food in the bowl. A soft click announced that his coffee was ready and Robert took his drink, heading towards balcony.
Smoking a cigarette he watched people on the street with little interest. His neighbour – an elderly lady with ever-barking Scottish Terrier was waving her cane at a group of teenagers. People passed her by quickly, trying to avoid being hit with a stick. Robert leaned against the railing, sipping his coffee thinking about Chris. Finally they were going to exchange more than three sentences. Robert almost immediately came into the conclusion that this was the cause of his early waking up. However this idea was too strange and disturbing so he explained to himself, that he woke up at 8am because his body got used to being awake this early.
He wondered why did he actually invite Chris for a coffee. Joshua of course was positive it was a date, but it was plain ridiculous. Robert extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray and went home.
If it turns out that Chris is a boring person they won't go out again. For the first time in his life Robert invited a complete stranger for a coffee and he didn't know how to interpret this kind of behaviour. He had no intention to pay attention to Josh's hints.
All in all there was no use in thinking about something that will end at only one meeting.