An hour and a half had slipped by, and the morning mist had lifted, revealing a picturesque scene as John parked outside Highams Lounge, a mere stone's throw from the lake.

The cafe was an enchanting old-world charm, with its sturdy brick walls entwined in lush, green ivy and expansive windows that offered a peek into the cozy sanctuary within.

A weathered wooden sign swung gently above the entrance, creaking softly in the light breeze, while the alluring aromas of freshly brewed coffee and hearty, warm food wafted through the air, beckoning them closer.

Inside, soft lights hung low from the ceiling, casting a warm, golden glow that danced across the rustic wooden tables and mismatched chairs, creating an inviting ambiance.

Each table was graced with tiny plants nestled in terracotta pots, their vibrant greenery adding life to the earthy surroundings. Though a few early risers dotted the space, the overall atmosphere was quiet, making it feel as if they had the entire place for themselves.

John led her to a table by the window, where sunlight filtered in softly, highlighting his features in a way that caught Charlie a little off guard. She could feel his calm gaze following her as they took their seats.

Glancing down at her menu (given by the hostess), Charlie had to settle herself. But every time she looked up, she noticed his eyes on her—almost as if he were waiting for her to speak.

Her cheeks warmed, and she broke the silence.

"John," she began, setting her menu down after she'd chosen what to order. "Would you mind if I ask you questions?"

"Ask, and you shall receive," John said nonchalantly.

She smiled back and began.

"If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would it be?" She watched as he leaned back in his chair, almost like he was going to brush it off, but he shrugged.

"Here's as good a place as any."

Her eyebrows lifted. "Here?"

"Sometimes, it's not the place but the company." John said, looking away briefly to look around the surroundings before her.

"Okay, good answer," Charlie said sheepishly. "What about this: what would you be doing if you weren't saving the world?"

"Hard to say. I'd need to be doing something that would keep me busy."

Charlie listened without interrupting him, like she didn't want to miss out on anything he was saying. She almost felt silly for asking these questions, but at the same time, she wanted to take the chance and get to know him more while keeping the conversation going.

"It sounds like you needed a distraction." She added with a quick smile.

"That, I do." John agreed.

"Here's another one," she continued. "If you could have any superpower, what would it be?"

John sat up straight and answered. "A superpower? I'll pick patience since they could come in handy."

"Patience isn't a superpower, but nice try," Charlie teased. "I'm guessing you don't have much?"

"Depends on what or who I'm dealing with," John answered honestly.

The waitress approached their table, took their orders, and left. As they waited, Charlie couldn't hold back her curiosity.

"Next question: if you could only pick one genre of movies to watch forever, what would it be?"

John gave a slight nod, his expression unchanged.

"Now that's a safe bet. I'll take any movies with explosions, fast cars, or a bit of suspense—any day."

She tilted her head. "Really? You're more of a Die Hard than Sleepless in Seattle, right?"

John smiled. "Affirm."

Another silence and she couldn't help but notice how his eyes moved to the surroundings and then back to her again.

She thought if she was boring him, he would pull out his phone and surf through while waiting for their breakfast. Instead, he didn't. Each time his gaze met hers, she would look away and look at the surrounding. And when she glance back to him, it would make her cheeks warm and Charlie had to stay natural. The way his gaze focused on her, it made her feel a little... out of place.

Why is he looking at me like this? She thought nervously. Guys I dated would be on their phones and talk less. With him, he just sits there and waits if I have anymore questions to ask.

When their food arrived after past twenty minutes, they began to eat. Her reeled with another question she had thought of one.

"Okay, I have another one. If you had to live off one type of food for the rest of your life, what would it be?"

"Hhm," John took a bite of his eggs with hashbrowns together before answering. "A good steak. Or maybe fish and chips."

"Okay, easy," she muttered, her gaze lingering on him before landing on her plate. She took another bite of her pancake. "Do you drink alcohol?"

John raised his eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious. Making a guess... I think... you're more of a whiskey type of guy."

"You're correct," John said, his tone intrigued by her guesses. "But I don't go with just whiskey. I'm also into bourbon and beer, on occasion."

"Tequila?"

He took another bite of an egg and added hash browns before sausage. John swallowed before he answered flatly. "Tastes like dog piss."

His response made her giggle.

"Really?"

"It just is." John said with conviction. "I know Johnny can handle a high tolerance for tequila."

"Johnny?" Charlie said, raising an eyebrow. "I'm guessing he's a friend of yours?"

"Brother in arms," John corrected her, "and so is Simon."

Charlie smiled, and said, "Okay, are they your 'just friends?'"

"I wouldn't say 'just friends'; we're more like brothers from another mother." John paused, and he continued. "Kyle included, although he looks up to me as a mentor. Johnny wants to be as good as Simon."

Charlie nodded, mentally noting the details. She took another bite of toast and finished most of her main plate but left the last piece of toast aside. Her mind spun with one more question as she took a sip of her mug and placed it on the table.

"Alright, another question. You strike me as a bit of a lone wolf, and... I'd say you're not exactly a fan of crowded places, right?"

"You're half right." John said, "I don't mind a crowd as long as there's purpose behind it. But if I had the choice? Give me space. Prefer my own company or that of a few good people."

His answer sparked an image of him in quiet places, somewhere alone like in the lake or outside the city. Charlie hummed and leaned against her chair, without looking away.

"Your turn," she smiled. "What questions you have for me?"

John studied her thoughtfully, he leaned back and thought of it before he began.

"If you could meet any person in history, alive or dead. Who would it be?"

Charlie lifted and sipped coffee before setting it down.

"I'd like to meet Jane Austen," she answered. "She was clever, witty, and a bit of a rule-breaker."

"Seems fitting. Though I think she'd be more interested in writing about you."

The comment caught her off guard, and she smiled shyly before looking away for a brief moment and back to him.

"Maybe."

He chuckled, moving on.

"If you had a time machine and could visit any historical period, where would you go?"

"Easy," she said, her eyes lighting up. "The sixties. I'd want to experience the music, the change, the excitement of having the best days of a young life."

"Bit of a free spirit, eh?" John guessed.

"Yeah," she admitted with a shrug, feeling an unexplainable warmth at his interest.

John grinned in response. "Alright, your turn."

"Okay," Charlie said, feeling an unexpected rush of courage, "this one might be tougher."

John frowned instantly. "What?"

"What's it like... this whole 'saving the world' business?"

His jaw tensed and his gaze shifted. It was like a wall went up instantly—a hesitation she hadn't seen before. Instead of answering, he leaned forward, his eyes narrowing with a hint of disapproval.

"Why?"

Her cheeks flushed, realizing she'd stumbled onto something sensitive.

"I... well... I'm curious. You never talk about your work," she said, her voice soft and almost apologetic.

John stared at her. He sighed and glanced at his cup before meeting her gaze.

"My work isn't as interesting as this." His eyes softened, a slight smile breaking through. "Besides, I'd rather spend this time getting to know you."

Her cheeks were warming at his words. She wasn't sure what to say, but to stare at him.

"Didn't expect that, did you?" he teased, slowly smirking like he had caught her red handed.

She laughed softly, her voice almost a whisper. "No, I didn't."

The space between them seemed to close at that moment, like their playful banter was replaced by something steady. Charlie couldn't pick up on what it was about, but silence between them was driving her mad. Almost like she couldn't study him—if only she could read his mind instead.

"You should eat," John said sternly, his tone almost like a command. "It'll be cold. I don't like food that's served cold."

"Oh, right." She looked down at her plate, cheeks flushed. She was grateful for the excuse to stop talking.

They continued eating, and the quiet clinking of silverware filling the pauses between them. Halfway through his breakfast, John broke the silence after he swallowed his last remnant of his food.

"I was wondering," he began slowly, "what really got you to come along today? Was it me or the fishing you want to do?"

Charlie opened her mouth to answer, but he beat her to it.

"I couldn't help but think you're the kind of girl who values experience and freedom," he said, watching her reaction closely. "You're curious about people—what makes them tick. You don't care for small talk; you'd rather have something in common with somebody, like me."

She felt her cheeks flush—again. A thrill running through her at how he'd read her so well.

"And... you got all that after fishing?" she asked, half-joking to mask her surprise.

John leaned back, giving her an easy, knowing smile.

"It's not hard to tell when someone values connection over convenience."

She stared at him before moving her eyes back to her plate, feeling oddly exposed. She glanced back to him.

"Guess I don't do a good job of hiding it," she murmured.

"Not with me, you don't," John said, sipping his coffee as if he were giving her the space to say more.

"You're not wrong," she said and continued. "I've always wanted to understand people. Knowing their motives is why I wanted to get into diplomacy when I finish school."

"Maybe that's why you're good at observing people but not seeing between the lines," John pointed out. "Makes you less likely to take things at face value."

She blinked, caught off guard by his another blunt response.

"You say that you know me better than I know myself," she said, trying to keep her tone even.

"Maybe I do."

Her world narrowed to just him—his intense gaze, like he'd read her thoughts long before she'd voiced them. It was unsettling, but in a good way. She cleared her throat, searching for a question to let her turn the tables.

"Okay," she began and challenged him, "what's one thing you have to say for those who shouldn't underestimate?"

His eyes flickered with something unreadable. Then, a small and arrogant smile grew on his face.

"You pick and choose a battle."

"You like a challenge?" Charlie raised an eyebrow.

"Hm," he set his coffee down and said, "I don't mind a challenge."

"Like...?" she echoed, her voice softer than intended.

"Anything that test boundaries or push the limits," he said. "I don't shy away from problems. I deal with them."

A thrill shot through her at the weight behind his words, like something she couldn't quite name as if he were letting her peek behind a curtain.

"Guessing you don't hear 'no' very often," Charlie muttered while looking away. Her voice barely above a whisper, more a statement than a question. She looked at him again.

"Only when it's needed," John said. "And you? You seem like the type who wanted to live for danger. Am I right?"

Her heart stammered, realizing how much he could see—and maybe how little she'd been able to hide from him.

After he leaned back against the chair, his eyes hadn't left her. She could feel he had one more question that would demand her to give him the answer he wanted to hear.

"Let me ask you this," he said, his tone was almost cold. "What do you want from me?"

Charlie bit her bottom lip, only to see his gaze flicker to her mouth, and his expression hardened.

"Do you mind?"

She blinked at first, unsure of what he meant.

"What?"

"Do you have a bad habit of biting your bottom lip, sweetheart?" he said, his tone almost stern.

She blushed, feeling self-conscious under his stern gaze.

"I—sorry. I'll stop."

"Don't. Bad habits are hard to break," John said, his tone almost icy.

Charlie gulped. His question had been loaded and intimate as if he was opening a door, and she wasn't ready to enter.

"I'll ask again," he repeated. "What do you want from me, Charlotte?"

She exhaled softly, thinking before she answered.

"I don't know," she answered honestly, her voice softer.

"You don't know?" he frowned.

"I mean," Charlie quickly said. "What do you want me to say?"

John hummed, and nodded slowly as his eyes moved from her to his plate and then back to her.

"You can give me a reason of why are you interested in me? Most pretty lasses like you want sex and money, right?"

Charlie blinked twice. The way his hardened gaze looked back at her made her heart race.

Why was she interested in him? That is a good question that she hadn't had time to think for the answer. She frowned as she leaned against her seat and crossed her arms.

"I'm not here for your money or sleep with you," she said. "If that's what you think I was looking for."

Then, in silence. John nodded again and he hummed.

"Fair enough."

"And for the record, I'm not one of those lasses, who are looking for whatever that you have, John. I'm interested because I wanted to know you."

Another brief pause happened and a chuckle escaped him, low and knowing. Breaking eye contact, he gestured for the waitress, signaling to pay the check. His gaze moved back to her.

"Well, if you wanted to spend time with or talk to an old man like me," he said, "you let me know."

She had to remember to breathe in and out.

"Any last questions?"

Charlie bit her lip, but when she saw his expression change into rebuke. She forced herself to quit biting and cleared her throat.

"Yes, one more..." Charlie paused, catching her breath before she continued, "I know your work's off-limits, but... could you give me a hint? I mean, what do you actually do?"

He sighed.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" he said sternly. His lips pressed together into a cautious line.

"No," she said out loud. Surprised at herself to respond back to him.

His eyes stared at her for an immeasurable period of time. He almost smiled but his face tightened.

"A hint," he said, and she watched him lean in just a fraction closer and said in a calm, steady manner. "I work in special ops."

She felt their weight settle over her.

Special ops.

It was vague enough to give her an idea of what kind of world he was from.

When she opened her mouth to say more, he lifted a finger.

"That's all you're getting."

She pouted but he wasn't done speaking.

"Curiosity kills the bird," he said, a playful warning in his tone. "If you want to know more, Charlotte. Remember that you're about to cross my lines. And the last thing I don't want for you is to get tangled in complication by me."

She blinked. Taking his words into her heart, his words were challenging. Almost like a warning or stepping into the unknown.

After he finished paying the check and gave it back to the waitress. He slipped his wallet back into his pocket, and stood. He held his hand, waiting for her to rise and join him.

Charlie took his hand and stood beside him. His gaze met her with a small smile before they headed out together.

All she could feel was the weight of his words—like he had drawn a line for her to cross, in a daring way.

———

Thank you so much for reading this chapter!

The breakfast scene between John and Charlie was so much fun to write—the subtle tension, playful banter, and their back-and-forth conversation made this moment feel so real. I hope you enjoyed their deeper conversation and those moments where their walls began to crack just a little.

Don't forget, I release three new chapters every Friday, and sometimes on Wednesdays if I'm feeling generous. Your feedback and support mean the world to me, so keep letting me know your thoughts!

If you were Charlie, how would you answer John's big question: "What do you want from me?"

If you could ask John Price one question, what would it be?