You're sitting at a coffee house, in a secluded corner, away from prying eyes. A young looking man, probably in his twenties, sits across from you, legs pulled up to his chest, so he's basically crouching on the large, fluffy armchair.

His bare feet poke out from the bottom of his jeans, and he reaches over himself, leaning forward in a way you're afraid he might fall right into the table between you and him. On said coffee table, is a tray of confectionaries, and two cups of coffee.

You'd already seen him fill his cup with at least six cubes of sugar, something you might consider overkill. But still, he takes the cup daintily between his thumb and forefinger, sipping its sickeningly sweet contents.

A silence grows between you, as you wait for him to tell you about himself. In that time, he simply contents himself to drinking his beverage, and eating his sweets.

........ He takes a long (quiet) sip of his sugar laced coffee. A cricket chirps from somewhere outside.

....The man takes a large marshmallow, or at least it looks like a marshmallow, from a bowl of them. This one is a pale brown, the others vary in shades of white to dark brown. As he has with everything else thus far, he holds it between his thumb and forefinger, as he lifts it to his mouth, Still he's not uttered a word about himself, or anything else even remotely on topic.

.......... He again reaches across himself, for the sweets on the table. His silence becomes irritating, as he picks up a sucker, and stirs his coffee with it, before popping it into his mouth.

........... Still more time passes, and your patience wears away. He still sits there, messy black hair... dark circles under his eyes... such a curious sight indeed. You ask again "So, care to tell me something about yourself...?"

He shakes his head, "No, not really." And reaches a white sleeved arm over to another sugar cube for his coffee. As though he needs more sugar. You're feeling ill just watching all the sugar he's eating. Yet he's so thin. You're left wondering what his secret is. How can he eat so much, and not gain an ounce. In fact, he looks UNDERweight! He's rail thin, yet if his current eating habits are any indication, he doesn't starve himself....

"Well, how about how you can eat so much food, and stay so skinny?" You inquire, hoping for him to open up.

Instead, he responds by taking the sucker out of his mouth, with his thumb and forefinger, and states simply, "If you use your head, you won't get fat even if you eat sweets." And sets the sucker down on the saucer to his coffee cup.

Again, the silence continues.

............You clear your throat, hoping to get his attention. And indeed, he rolls his eyes up to you, from his hunched over position. His hands hold his knees, and he was staring intently down at the food, as though wondering what to eat next. "Yes?" He asks, curiously.

His dark irises seem tiny, compared to the accentuated size of the eyes themselves. The dark circles under his eyes tell of sleep deprivation, or perhaps restlessness. You repeat your question to him, looking him straight in the eyes meaningfully.

He takes a moment th think, thumb pressed against his lips in a look of concentration.You wonder what he's thinking, but remain silent. You asked a question, now it's time to give him a chance to answer....

Finally, he pulls his hand away from his mouth to respond, He lowers his hand back to his knee, hugging his legs to him. Seemingly without even his notice, his feet twitch slightly, rubbing against one another. "Oh! You're expecting some 'life story' or something here, I suppose." His voice is as monotone as it was for his other responses, and he looks at you intently. "Well, I'm sorry. But my job has gathered me many enemies over the years. Any information I disclose here will just be free food for them to use against me... probably in an attempt to take my life. Again." He pauses briefly to stir his coffee again with his now notably smaller sucker.

He sets the treat carefully back on the saucer beside the cup, and takes another sip of the sweetened drink. Since you've been talking to him, you've not once seen him hold anything with more than those two fingers. And it makes you wonder, not for the first time, why that is.

He sets the coffee, now half empty, down, and continues, arms once more clinging to his knees. "I can't even give you my name, out of concern for my own safety." once more, you're left wondering who he is, and what's wrong with him. But you remain silent, allowing for him to speak. "You never know who might be watching, listening, spying...." He turns his head, looking around intently at your surroundings. The coffee shop itself is all but empty, and from your current positions, no one could possibly eavesdrop. But that doesn't change anything for him. He still continues to look around cautiously, hunched over himself in an almost frightened manner. None of his features express fear, but his posture is in an almost fetal position. It leaves you to wonder exactly what his job was, and what his story really is.