Fated Dinner Part 1:

Chapter 12

Chapter 3:

Thomas sat in his cushioned armchair, swirling his drink around. He'd "retired" last week and he'd been keeping an eye on the internet to see if any news popped up about Harry, and boy did it. Admittedly he was never mentioned by name, but it was made clear that the chief of police was placed under suspension while internal affairs questioned his staff and several of the townsfolk.

As if that wasn't enough to get the town buzzing, word was the Paul and the rest of the Throngs had suffered major business setbacks, with a great deal of their largest supporters and stock owners abandoning the company. The odd part was that, openly, Harry hadn't even met any of these people, and shouldn't have any bearing on the Throng's businesses.

However he'd done it, the Throngs were having their name dragged through the mud, make no mistake. An online newpaper that was so small he'd never heard of it had started the slam campaign, calling for the Throngs to stand trial for the horrible things they'd done and the r****t they were protecting, and soon others took up the call, even briefly getting a story of Fox.

After that, it didn't really matter what Paul did. Once it was on the news, it might as well be law. Now, it was just a matter of time until Paul stood trial and the chief of police was replaced. Thomas supposed he should feel lucky. After all, even though he'd been forced to quit, he was left better off than the others, if only just.

It was as the clock in hallway informed him that it was seven in the evening that he decided to get off the chair and cook himself something simple in the microwave. Feeling a cold breeze, he tightened his bathrobe around himself and tied the belt tight.

As he entered his own kitchen, his mouth fell open. Upon his six person table was a fine tablecloth he'd never seen before, and upon that was a series of pure silver dishes. They held many fine foods, but that was not what truly had his attention.

What he couldn't stop staring at was the man at the head of the table. He had the most vivid green eyes that Thomas had ever seen. They scared him. It was as if this man could see right through him and knew all his darkest secrets. Then there was the way the man looked at him, as if he were a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar for the umpteenth time.

His clothes were fairly plain, a simple collared shirt and tan suit jacket with the sleeves rolled up. The man had very dark hair that hung around his head loosely, almost messily. The man motioned for Thomas to sit across from him, but Thomas could not.

"W-who the f**k are you?"

"Do you not recognize me?" asked the man, still wearing the same disappointed expression. "You knew me once, before you took your soul back from me."

Thomas froze and knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had once known this man, though he didn't know why. He slowly sat down across from the green-eyed man.