No One Else Is Dealing With Your Demons (джен)

It’s been nearly a decade, but Vesemir still looks over his shoulder when he’s out in public, keeps an extra deadbolt on each of his home’s doors, and changes his bank passwords regularly. That and the countless other precautions that have become habit are what alert him to the fact that he’s being followed. Immediately, he diverts his route away from home, heading not in the opposite direction but distinctly away from anywhere he frequents. He keeps going until he finds a decently crowded location – the kind of pretentious coffee shop he would usually avoid – gets himself an overpriced bottle of water that is neither hot nor iced – a lesson he learned the hard way – and takes a seat near the door with his back to a solid wall. For several long minutes nothing happens, then all of a sudden, a relatively harmless-looking young man drops into the seat across from him, spilling some of his sugary latte on the table as he sets it down. “Hi,” he greets Vesemir brightly.
“You were the one following me?”
“I detect disdain in your voice, good sir, and at any other time I would happily dispute the implication of it, but we have more important things to discuss.”
“Do we?”