The Cabbie and the Cop – 18

As they waited for their cars to be brought around Vergil paced. Simeon was sorely tempted to step in front of him to still his movements, resisting only because he suspected it would do no good. It was patently obvious the elf was distressed about something. Something more than the recent happenings. However getting him to open up about what it was would not be easy.

And why do I even care? Simeon wondered. Because we’re forming a friendship of sorts, as tenuous as it is?

The parking valets arrived with the cars, the one driving Simeon’s apparently reluctant to hand over the keys. When Simeon kidded him about it, Vergil chuckled. “Can’t say that I blame him, it’s one hell of a vehicle.”

“A minor indulgence.”

Vergil shook his head as he opened the door to his own car, the brief moment of amusement vanishing, his somber mood returning. “See you again, sometime. Maybe.”  

“The way things seem to be happening with us, I suspect so,” Simeon agreed. He watched Vergil pull away and made a quick decision. Because his car was so distinctive he gave Vergil a good lead as he began to follow him, hoping he was so deep into his thoughts he wouldn’t notice. Apparently Vergil hadn’t because fifteen minutes later he drove into his driveway, got out and went into the house without a backwards glance.

Simeon parked in front then sat for a few minutes, wondering if what he was planning was such a good idea after all. What the hell, I’m here. The worst he can do is slam the door in my face.

Vergil didn’t, although from the look on his face he was tempted to as he asked, “Why are you here?”

“I want to see how the other half lives?” Simeon replied with an ingratiating smile.

“I rather doubt that.” Vergil hesitated. “Well, since you’re here, would you like to come in? I’ve got coffee brewing.”

“Come in, yes, coffee, no.”

“Oh, right, sorry.” Vergil stepped aside. “I forgot.”

As Simeon entered he laughed. “I can drink coffee, I just hate the stuff. On the other hand if you have tea I’d be open for some.”

“That I can do.” Vergil led the way into the kitchen where he set water to boiling. As they waited he asked again, “Why are you here? I mean really.”

“Because you need to get whatever’s bothering you so badly off your chest. As I said earlier I’m a good listener and I don’t talk about what people tell me.”

“You also said, if I remember rightly, that you don’t condemn.”

“Unless you’re going to tell me you’re a mass murderer or a pedophile or something equally heinous, no I won’t.”

Vergil smiled, barely, as he poured the boiling water into a cup, dropped in a teabag, and handed the cup to Simeon. “I’m none of those.” Fixing coffee for himself, he suggested they go into the living room.