Sitting and people-watching has always been a favorite of Micheletto's - it told you everything you needed to know about a person without having to speak to them yourself. But in this case, he was the watched. And he didn't like it. He never liked being in a spotlight the way he was now.

He advances to the table almost like a startled cat, his muscles tensed and the hair on the back of his neck raised. He wouldn't call it fear, exactly... more like wariness. But Micheletto does sit when told, his blue eyes still locked on Pitch.

"What do you want?" He asks crisply, coolly, his expression more dour than usual.