Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You’re sure you don’t need any more help?”
Eris removed another armful of books from the box at her feet and set them on the shelf in front of her before turning towards Ikora. “Yes, I am sure. With all the fragile items dealt with, I only need to finish unpacking the last few boxes of the books and then everything will be in place. I don’t want to keep you longer than necessary, and I am perfectly capable of finishing the rest of the work myself.”

She could tell Ikora wanted to object, but she seemed to think better of it. “Promise to call me if you need anything?”

“Of course. Thank you for your assistance.”

Ikora gave her a small nod, accompanied by a smile that Eris suspected had more pity behind it than she would have liked. “I’ll be back tomorrow to check in and help with any more preparations before you open.”

Eris nodded before returning her gaze to the bookshelf, hearing the door to the shop open and close as she was left to herself again. She sighed. She knew Ikora only wanted to help, but she did not enjoy being pitied and coddled. Her friend had been the one to suggest this fresh start, but seemed unable to shake whatever guilt she carried from the past.

She turned slowly, familiarizing herself once again with the layout of her new shop. She had tried to arrange it so she could easily navigate the room, but only time would tell. She hoped nothing too large would need to be moved, calling Ikora for help rearranging furniture would only worry her more.

She resumed her unpacking, neatly arranging another armful of books onto the shelf, checking to make sure each one was in the proper section and had not been damaged during the move.

A bell jingled to her left, alerting her to the door being opened once again. She did not turn to look. “Back so soon? I can assure you nothing of concern has transpired in the last few minutes.”

“Uh, should I come back later?”

She paused, the voice catching her off guard, low and gruff with an accent clearly not from the area. It was most certainly not Ikora, nor any of the small handful of people she knew in town.

She cleared her throat and resumed her organization. “My apologies, I thought you were someone else. We are not yet open, but you are welcome to return tomorrow once everything is in order.”

To her chagrin, the footsteps continued into the store. “Ah, no worries, I’m just here to meet my new neighbor!”

Eris racked her brain, trying to remember the nearby businesses. She was certain there was a small ramen shop next door, and she thought she remembered an antique store across the street, but that was all that came to mind.

“I see. Which establishment?”

The casual footsteps stopped in front of a display, and she turned to see the man examining the collection of taxidermied insects Ikora had helped her organize early that morning.

He chuckled. “My ‘establishment’ would be the bar next door.”

Oh.

She had forgotten about that. There was a small dive bar sharing the eastern wall of her new store. She had been slightly apprehensive about it, and the owner casually waltzing into her currently closed shop only increased her concerns. What was it called…

“Oh, of course. The ‘Rat’s Nest’, was it?”

“Sure was!” He reached out and picked up a wet specimen jar with a large centipede inside, holding it up to the light to inspect it.

She narrowed her eyes, the expression concealed by her dark glasses. “Ah. Then you must be the rat.”

He turned toward her with a beaming smile. “The one and only! Say, you got some real creepy shit in here.”

“I had no idea,” she deadpanned.

“Yeah,” he replied, clearly not taking the hint, “lotta creepy crawlies for a book store.”

She approached him, plucking the jar out of his fingers and returning it to the display shelf. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but this isn’t exactly a Barnes and Noble. I have many rare books and other items, including the ‘creepy crawlies’, as you have so eloquently put it.”

“You got any of those lollipops?” he asked, leaning against a shelf and flashing her a large grin.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Oh you don’t gotta beg, sister. All yours.” She scowled. “But you know, the lollipops with the bugs in ‘em? I used to love those things. Real crunchy.”

“I do not. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have much work to do to prepare for our opening tomorrow, and watching you eat my stock is not high on the list.” She gestured pointedly towards the front door, which she was relatively sure still clearly displayed the ‘Closed’ sign.

The man chuckled. “Alright alright, point taken. Just wanted to introduce myself and let you know the side door is open if you need anything.”

She froze. “The what?”

“You know, the side door? The one in the back that leads into my bar? From back when this was one big *establishment*?”

This was… not ideal.

She cleared her throat again. “I’m afraid I must have missed that. Thank you for your offer, but I’m sure I will be able to manage. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

He flashed her another wide grin. “Alrighty then. Offer stands though. Welcome to the neighborhood.” He sauntered back towards the door. “Stay dry.”

She cocked her head. “Pardon?”

She heard the confusion in his voice as he replied, “From the rain? Sure, it doesn’t look like much right now but it’s supposed to pick up later.” He paused. “Might not be the most practical for the weather, but I can’t blame ya,” he said, the smile returning to his voice as he pushed the door open. “Those are some pretty stylish glasses.”

She stood still for a moment after he left, equal parts frustrated and confused. It wasn’t until some time later that she realized his introduction hadn’t included a name.

Chapter Text

The rain had indeed ‘picked up’ later that evening, and had continued into the next day. Eris sat behind the large desk in the corner of the shop she had arranged into a makeshift counter, a book open on the table in front of her and a hot cup of tea at her side. The rain was heavy enough that she could hear it now, the falling water forming a soft percussion in the background.

It was not particularly busy. She had no desire to hold any sort of grand opening event, instead electing to just flip the sign on the door and see if anyone would wander in. A few people had, intrigued by the strange new shop. It was not a large town, so she imagined any new business would draw some attention, even without the morbid curiosity her collection tended to elicit.

She made her first sale sometime in the mid afternoon, to a sharply dressed man who had been pleasantly surprised by her collection of different translations of the Homeric epics, and said that he would recommend some of his students to pay her a visit. University students, hopefully. She was not well versed in dealing with children.

Things had gone quite smoothly so far, with the exception of one slightly crooked bookshelf near the back she kept catching her foot on as she passed by it. She assumed she would get used to it, but after tripping over it four times, it was beginning to grate on her. One of the unfortunate pains of adjusting to a new space.

She set down her teacup and grabbed her phone to check the time. 4:38. She could hear movement through the wall behind her, likely her new neighbor preparing to open for the evening. The bell jingled, and she turned to see a delivery woman dropping off a box just inside the door, giving her a small wave before leaving.

Ah yes, she had ordered some more teeth. While many of her curios made people squeamish, she had found that shark teeth were generally quite well liked and decided to purchase some extras.

She stood, pausing to stretch for a moment after a few hours of slouching at her desk, and went to retrieve the package. She tore off the tape and began checking through the contents as she carried it towards the back room. Everything seemed to be in order. At least, until her foot caught the crooked shelf again and she hit the floor, fossilized teeth scattering on the ground around her.

She swore, slowly sitting up and getting her bearings. To her horror, she heard quick footsteps approaching from the other side of the wall and the old door to the back room began to open. She quickly grabbed her glasses, shoving them back on just as her new neighbor poked his head through the doorway.

“You alright back here?” He raised his eyebrows at the sight of the woman sitting on the floor surrounded by a small army of teeth.

“Yes, I assure you everything is fine, there is no need for concern.” She hoped she sounded adequately dismissive and he would retreat back to his side of the wall.

Unfortunately, he once again ignored her attempt to get rid of him and opened the door wider and flashed her a teasing smile. “You sure? Looks like it was a pretty hard fall. You even knocked some teeth out.”

She frowned at him, visibly annoyed by his attempt at humor. “Alright, alright, I see how it is.” He laughed slightly anyway, then reached out a hand to help her up.

She hesitates for a moment, eventually deciding to take the offer in the hopes that playing along would speed the interaction along so he would leave.

That quickly went out the window when they both saw the jagged tooth sticking through her thin black glove and into her palm

Shit.

He raised his eyebrows, quickly shifting gears and turning her hand over to check the wound. She immediately yanked it back, quickly scrambling to her feet on her own.

“Thank you for your concern, I wouldn’t want to keep you any longer.”

“You’re not keepin’ me from anything. Here, let me take a look at that.” He reached for her hand, and she recoiled again.

“I assure you I am just fine, it is nothing. You may return to your work.” She wasn’t lying, she truly could barely feel it, the scar tissue dulling the pain almost entirely.

He crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at her. “Sister, you got a shark tooth in your hand.”

As if on cue, a drop of her blood rolled off her glove and splattered on the floor. Perfect, no chance of claiming it hadn’t broken the skin now.

The man looked between the blood on the floor and the hand clutched protectively to her chest.

He was not going to let this go. Great.

“Oh-kay, c’mon, let’s get you cleaned up. I got a first aid kit in the back.” He finally retreated back to his side of the door, but to her dismay, he turned back immediately and looked at her expectantly. “Uh, ya comin’? It won’t take long, you’ll be back to your lair in no time. Trust.”

She exhaled through clenched teeth. He was definitely not going to drop the subject, and she admittedly hadn’t gotten a first aid kit for her shop yet. She reluctantly took a few steps towards him, accepting that capitulating would get this over with quickest. “It is not a lair.”

“Whatever you say!” He gestured towards the stools in front of the bar, briskly walking into the back area. “Have a seat, I’ll be right back.”

She stepped hesitantly over the threshold. She hadn’t seen the inside of the bar before, and had frankly not intended to change that. It was very much not a place she would have visited under almost any circumstances, even without her discomfort at navigating unfamiliar terrain.

The room was comfortably lit, low but not dark, about the same as her side of the wall, which was a pleasant surprise. She carefully made her way through the tables and sat awkwardly on one of the tall barstools. The slightly damp surface smelled faintly of disinfectant, which did calm her nerves slightly.

The strange man returned, setting a large restaurant first aid kit on the bar between them. “Okie dokie, let’s take a look.”

She begrudgingly held her hand out, muscles tensing as he carefully held it in his own. “Gonna pull this out now, okay?” She nodded, and he quickly plucked the tooth from her hand and set it on the counter, turning back towards her expectantly. She stared back at him blankly. “You’re uh, gonna have to take that off.” He said, pointing at the glove.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Oh. Yes, of course.” She pulled her hand away from his and slowly tugged at the fingers, dragging it out as long as she could.

“You like Rogue or something?”

She paused, looking up at him with confusion.

“Y’know, like in the X-Men? The one who sucks the life force outta people when she touches ‘em?” The crooked grin was back on his face. “Not exactly the kinda books you seem to be into but you have to at least know who the X-Men are.”

“No, I do not ‘suck the life force’ out of people,” she responded flatly, pulling the glove fully off her hand, returning it reluctantly to the table. “But I do know of the X-Men, yes.”

“I always liked Colossus, the real big Russian metal guy. Kinda reminds me of one of my regulars, now that I think about it,” he rambled, taking a few damp paper napkins and wiping the blood off her hand that had pooled inside the glove. “You got a favorite?”

She didn’t answer, nervously watching as he revealed the skin on her palm. He did not seem bothered by her silence. “Oh! Lemme guess, you’re a Cyclops fan.”

“What?”

“Y’know, Cyclops.” He tapped the side of his face with his free hand, gesturing towards his eyes. “He wears the glasses all the time.”

She stiffened. “No.”

As if the situation couldn’t get any more uncomfortable. He seemed to at least take the hint, returning his focus to her hand, still bleeding but much cleaner, the rough, discolored skin now visible without the cover of leather or blood. She braced herself for a reaction, but none came. Confused, she snuck a glance at his face, expecting to at least see some sort of discomfort, but found none. Instead, he just continued talking.

“Emma Frost was always good too. Oh man, I had the hugest crush on her as a kid. Me and everyone else.”

This close, she could see him more clearly, getting a better look at his features for the first time. He had a green bandana wrapped around his forehead, keeping his short disheveled brown hair out of his face. He had blue eyes, with smile lines in the corners, and a scruffy beard, partially concealing the long scars running up his cheeks.

Ah. I see.

“…course, Beast always had some appeal too.” He looked up at her, and she hoped he couldn’t tell she had been staring. “Careful, this is gonna sting.”

He uncapped a bottle of rubbing alcohol and poured it onto the wound. She didn’t react.

“Damn, you’re a tough one ain’t ya?” She shrugged slightly. “Real stoic and mysterious, I dig it.”

She tensed up again. She couldn’t detect any noticeable malice in his voice, but didn’t appreciate him messing with her regardless.

He chuckled slightly to himself, pressing a pad of cotton over the cut and pulling a roll of gauze out of the box. “Alright, almost done.”

He held her hand in place as he wrapped it, his fingers calloused but surprisingly gentle. It occurred to her she couldn’t remember the last time she had actually touched someone without any of the usual barriers she kept in between. As foreign as it was, she was surprised to find it was not as unpleasant as she expected. She immediately squashed the thought.

“Alright, that aught to do it! How’s it feeling?”

She opened and closed her fingers a few times, testing the wrapping. It was more thorough than she would have done for herself, but that wasn’t a high bar. If left to her own devices she would probably have just pulled the tooth out and stuck a bandaid on it.

“It is quite secure. Thank you.”

“Anytime!” He flashed her another of his trademark wide grins, then turned around to toss the bloody napkins in the trash. She noticed the patches crudely sewn onto the back of his vest, a large one in the center showing a pair of snakes, with the word ‘Drifter’ emblazoned across the top. Curious.

“Ya know, you never told me your name,” he said casually, moving to wash his hands in the nearby sink. She noticed streaks of her own blood on his hands, sending a strange feeling through her stomach.

“Neither did you,” she replied. “My name is Eris, what shall I call you? Or would you prefer only to be known as ‘The Rat?’ That is the only moniker you have provided so far.”

He laughed. “Hey, that’ll do. Good branding is good branding.”

She narrowed her eyes, annoyed at his continued refusal to introduce himself properly. “Do you not have a name?”

He turned back to face her. “I got plenty. You can call me whatever you want, but most people just read the jacket and call it a day.”

“Drifter,” she repeated the word she had seen painted on his back. “That is hardly a name.”

“Works well enough for me.” The Drifter extended his hand once again. “Nice to meet you Eris.” She carefully shook his hand with her still gloved one. “You want a drink while you’re here? On the house. Figure you deserve it after being the first person to get bit by a shark on land.” He gestured dramatically at the shelves of liquor behind him, punctuating his offer with a wink.

“No thank you. I have been away from my shop long enough as it is.” Eris stood quickly suddenly feeling very out of her element, and began carefully retracing her path towards the door.

The Drifter laughed. “Work waits for no one I suppose. Offer stands if you change your mind. Let me know if you need anything else, wouldn’t want you to impale yourself on any more of your creepy doodads back there.”

She scoffed, crossing the threshold back into her own space. “I’m sure I will manage.” She pulled the door closed behind her, stopping just before the latch clicked as her eyes fell on the problematic shelf again.

Eris weighed her options. She could leave it be, hoping she didn’t trip on it too many more times before adjusting to its location. She could call Ikora, who would immediately notice her bandaged hand and become even more concerned. Or…

She sighed and pushed the door back open. “Actually, there is one more thing I could use assistance with.”

She couldn’t see his face from this distance, but could hear the smile in his voice as he answered. “What’cha need, sister?”

“There is a bookshelf in my store that is slightly out of line with the others. I keep tripping over it, but it is too heavy for me to move myself.”

“Sure, I can help with that. One condition though,” he responded, with a slight devilish tone.

She stiffened. He had pressed enough of her buttons throughout this interaction already, and she was not eager to find out what he wanted in return.

“I get to keep this tooth.”

She let out a small sigh of relief. “I suppose that is fair.”

He sauntered casually back to the doorway, his urgency seemingly gone now that she was patched up. “You got yourself a deal.” He cracked his knuckles. “Alright, let me get a look at this shelf.”

She led him to the furniture in question, pointing to the corner that jutted out into the pathway across the room. “It is out of line with the others. I keep getting caught on it as I pass by.” She moved to take the other side, but was surprised to see him push it back into place by himself.

“Easy.” He brushed his hands off theatrically, taking a step back to check his work. “That all you need?”

“Yes, that is all, thank you again for your help.”

He lifted two fingers to his temple and gave her a casual salute. “My pleasure.” He crossed through the door again, pausing just before he pulled it closed. “You should come back for that drink sometime, offer’s still good. Least I can do.” His tone was light, if he had been speaking to anyone else she would have considered it almost flirtatious.

“I will consider it,” she lied, remembering her manners. He flashed one more cocky grin at her and finally pulled the door shut.

She exhaled slowly before moving to gather the rest of the teeth from the floor.

What a strange man.

She could not think of anyone who had spoken to her so casually in a long time, have grown begrudgingly accustomed to the undercurrent of worry in the way people addressed her. Ikora and the few friends of hers Eris had been introduced to so far all had that same tone in their voices, like she was a fragile object they were afraid to damage.

It suddenly dawned on her that he was the first person in a very long time who she had met by herself. He was certainly not someone Ikora would associate with, and the few people she had introduced her to had all clearly been filled in beforehand, her reputation unfortunately preceding her. The disheveled man on the other side of the wall, however, knew nothing. Even when her scarred hands had been exposed, he had seemed fully unbothered. Despite his attempts to get a rise out of her, there was a part of her that reluctantly enjoyed being treated for once as someone who could handle the occasional jab instead of being handled with kid gloves.

How ironic that the ‘fresh start’ Ikora had sold to her was so far most successful with the one person that her friend would be most infuriated by.

She shook her head in an attempt to dislodge the thoughts. A couple brief interactions with an annoying neighbor was hardly a large enough sample size to draw any conclusions. She was sure he would become uncomfortable soon enough.

Despite all her better judgement, she did find herself considering his offer to come back for a drink

Chapter Text

By the end the week, Eris had settled into a comfortable rhythm. She had eventually managed to convince Ikora that she could just take the bus to work instead of having to be dropped off every day like a kindergartner. She had insisted on coming with her the first time just to make sure she knew the route, but thankfully after that she acquiesced and Eris had a bit more space to breathe.

She had always been a creature of habit, and having a routine eased her mind greatly. She knew eventually her friend would start nagging her about being less reclusive or whatever else she thought would benefit her, but for the time being Ikora seemed to be giving her time to settle in.

She had not properly met anyone else during the week, only engaging in brief small talk with the occasional customer. The Drifter had not returned to bother her again, but she could hear him through the wall when she sat at the counter, and from most of the room during the evening when he had patrons to converse with. She couldn’t make out any conversation, but the people visiting the bar certainly seemed to be enjoying themselves, even if they did so slightly above her preferred volume.

She had not told Ikora about her interactions with her odd new neighbor. If she found out Eris had tripped and injured herself, no matter how minor, she would become even more concerned about leaving her friend to run the shop alone, regardless of her wishes. Learning that the shady bartender next door had direct access to her space and had been the one to assist her would have been catastrophic, so she kept their conversations to herself.

Saturday was pleasantly busy. The weekend brought a break in the storm, and people took the opportunity to get some fresh air and window shop in town. It seemed the adjacent ramen shop, while very small, was extremely popular, and almost always had a few people milling about out front waiting for their orders, many of whom were enticed by the eclectic items in her window and wandered inside to browse. She had sold several shark teeth.

The only real inconvenience she had encountered so far was the walk to the bus stop. It wasn’t particularly far, maybe a block, but it did include some areas where the sidewalk was narrow and cluttered with a restaurant’s outdoor seating or a shops standing signs.

Stepping outside on Monday evening however, she found that it had begun to rain again. Standing under the awning, she dug through her bag for her umbrella. The air smelled of smoke, and a small shuffle to her left confirmed that she had company. She turned to see the Drifter leaning up against the brick wall of the building that contained both their businesses, a cigarette in his hand.

He flicked the ash onto the pavement. “Headin’ home?”

“Mhm,” she answered briefly, opening her umbrella and setting it on the sidewalk next to her before reaching back into her bag.

“It’s really comin’ down out there, hope you’re not parked far.” She heard him take a long breath in as she reached back into her bag, then exhale another puff of smoke.

She looked up at him quizzically. “Pardon?”

“Your car?” He gestured vaguely to the street.

She raised her eyebrows at him and pulled her cane out, unfolding it and looping the strap loosely around her wrist. “My… car?”

“Oh. Right.”

She frowned. “You cannot be serious.”

He gave her a well practiced, nonchalant smile, taking another drag from his cigarette. “Serious about what?”

“You actually didn’t notice.”

He shrugged. “I dunno, didn’t really think about it. Figured you just tripped over furniture a lot and liked wearing sunglasses inside.”

She tilted her head, the corner of her mouth quirking up slightly. “You aren’t the sharpest tool in the shed, are you?”

“Heh, I get by,” he answered with a smile.

She hummed dismissively in response, picking her umbrella back up in her right hand and starting in the direction of the bus stop. After a few steps, her bag began to slide off her shoulder. She growled quietly in frustration and pinned the umbrella between her shoulder and neck, freeing her hand to readjust the straps.

“Want some help?”

She turned to glare at him, despite it being a pointless gesture behind her shaded lenses. “I am in no need of an escort,” she snapped, “I am perfectly capable of walking a few hundred feet by myself.”

The disheveled man pressed the butt of the cigarette against the damp wall and tossed it in a nearby trash can. “I’m not sayin’ you aren’t, but I reckon it might be a bit easier if you had someone to hold your umbrella.”

She weighed her options. She could get there herself but admittedly would likely get wet juggling all the items in her arms and attempting to avoid stepping into any pooled water all at once. Ikora’s words upon her arrival in town echoed in her head— It will be good for you to interact with more people again. She suppressed a smirk, imaging her disappointment at how exactly Eris was taking her advice. “I wouldn’t turn it down.”

He stepped towards her, extending his hand for the handle of her umbrella. She passed it to him and he held it over them, walking next to her as she started down the street. Standing side by side with him, she noted he was roughly the same height as her, if not slightly shorter. He smelled like tobacco and old leather.

“So…” he started awkwardly. She expected the prying questions, which never seemed to take long to appear, but was surprised when he began apologizing instead. “Sorry about the Cyclops joke.”

“As you should be.” She responded flatly.

“Yeah that’s my bad, I didn’t realize—“

“You assume I would have that little taste? To choose him as my favorite of all the X-Men?”

He was quiet for a brief second, then began laughing. “You’re right, that was a pretty harsh assumption.” Eris smirked slightly, and he gasped dramatically in response. “Well whaddaya know, she can smile!”

She scoffed. “Yes, when given a reason. It’s not my fault you’ve yet to say anything funny.”

“Ouch!” He chuckled. “Challenge accepted, one of these days I’m gonna get ya.” They continued a few more steps in silence before he spoke again. “Well now you gotta tell me, who’s your favorite then.”

“Kitty Pride.” Her cane splashed in a puddle on the sidewalk in front of her and he stepped forward, turning around to face her so she could pass behind him without leaving the cover of the umbrella.

“Yeah that’s a way better choice. Wouldn’t have expected you to be a comic fan at all though. Why her?”

They resumed walking side by side. “I was actually a kid once, you know. A reckless one too. I could have gotten into and out of a lot more trouble if walls never stood in my way.”

“Ha! Gotta admit, I kinda assumed you grew up in the Smithsonian reading encyclopedias for fun.”

She snorted. “I’m sure my father would have preferred that. He was not a fan of ‘low brow’ literature like comic books. I hid them in a shoebox under my bed. Here, this is my stop.”

She paused, expecting him to hand back the umbrella, but he made no move to do so, continuing to stand beside her instead. He must have noticed her confusion because he clarified, “What, did ya think I was just gonna ditch you here? I’m a lot of things, but it just so happens that one of them is a gentleman.”

“Somehow I find that hard to believe.”

“I’m still here, ain’t I?”

“I suppose so.”

They waited for a moment before she turned back to him. “Do you have the time?”

He flashed her another mischievous smile. “For you? Always.” She frowned and instead retrieved her phone from her bag. 7:16.

“The bus is late,” she declared.

“Probably driving slower in the rain, I’m sure it’ll only be a minute.”

“Should you not return to your bar? It seems unwise to continue to leave it unattended.” She was starting to feel awkward, unused to conversing with a stranger for this long.

He chuckled. “On a Monday night? I may as well be closed, it’s usually just me and a whisky sour doing sudoku all evening.”

“Why not just close then?”

The Drifter shrugged. “Got nowhere else to be.”

She thought of her own usually empty store that she had been keeping open later than scheduled just for something to do. “I can understand that.”

The street lit up with the bus headlights as it approached. “Well, there’s your ride. See you soon.”

She took the umbrella from his hand. “Not if I hear you coming.”

He rolled his eyes dramatically at her as she stepped up onto the bus. “Whatever you say, Daredevil.”

“You simply walk very loudly,” she retorted, the doors closing behind her, guaranteeing her the last word. She scanned her card and took a seat as the bus lurched forward. She could see his faint silhouette outside on the sidewalk, watching for a moment as it drove away before turning to walk back to his bar through the rain.

Chapter Text

Eris tugged awkwardly at the sleeves of her sweater, fidgeting nervously in the passenger seat of Ikora’s car.

She had reluctantly agreed to come along to dinner with some of the other woman’s work friends for the evening. It was probably true that some social interaction would do her good, and she had admittedly not eaten a hot meal that didn’t come out of the microwave since the last time the two had dinner together. She would never admit it to Ikora, but some days she didn’t even do that. Her cereal supply was beginning to run short.

“What are we having again?” Eris asked, wringing the straps of her bag in her hands.

“Italian. It’s one of our favorite spots, and they have free bread,” Ikora replied cheerfully.

“I do like free bread,” Eris conceded with a slight smile. “How many people?”

“Should be five or six I think? Depends if Osiris brings his husband, but I don’t think he mentioned anything about that.”

“That is… more than I was expecting.”

Ikora pulled into a parking spot along the street and turned off the engine before turning to Eris with a soft smile. “I know it’s been a long time, but you’re gonna be fine, I promise. They’re all very nice and excited to meet you. You’ve got this.”

She tried to swallow the nervous lump forming in her throat. “Okay.” Her friend gave her hand a small squeeze before opening the door, Eris following suit. Ikora circled around to the passenger side, resting her hand lightly on Eris’ arm to lead her in the right direction.

As they made their way down the sidewalk, Eris pondered the still unfamiliar contact as she watched figures pass by them, illuminated by the street lights. She couldn’t think of anyone else she would trust to guide her like this these days. It had been years since she had regularly entered places crowded or unfamiliar enough to necessitate much assistance at all, and even before her years of voluntary isolation she had not been very touchy. Of the few people she would accept the help from, Ikora was the only one who remained.

Her train of thought was mercifully interrupted. “Right here, small step up.” She followed the directions and entered the small restaurant, turning her head to get a better view of the room. It was well lit but not harsh, and she could make out the colors of a mural on the far wall. It smelled like garlic and red wine, and the air was filled with the din of overlapping conversations. It was exactly the kind of place the two women would have gone together in their youth. There was a comfort in knowing her friend’s tastes hadn’t changed.

They made their way to a table in the back, where three men were already seated. One of them rose from his seat upon seeing them, giving them a warm smile before greeting them. “Ikora! It’s good to see you outside your office.” He turned his attention towards Eris, his voice slightly more cautious but still friendly, “And Miss Morn, it is a pleasure to see you again as well.”

“Just Eris is fine,” she replied, waiting for Ikora to sit before taking the remaining empty chair.

Ikora began introductions as soon as she sat down. “Eris, you remember Zavala.” She did, he had been the first person Ikora introduced her to upon her arrival; he had come by to assist with moving her furniture into her apartment. “These are our colleagues, Osiris and Uldren.” She gave them a slight nod and attempted a small smile, though it felt more nervous than she had intended.

“Actually, I believe we have already met.” She turned towards the older man, dressed cleanly in a well tailored suit, struggling to place him. Thankfully, he saved her the trouble. “I had the pleasure of visiting her store last week.” Ah, yes, he had purchased two different translations of The Iliad. “I was not aware she was a friend of yours.”

Eris took the basket her friend passed to her, carefully extracting a breadstick and placing it on her plate before handing it off to Osiris. “We have known each other for many years,” she answered before quickly trying to pivot the conversation away from herself. “How are you enjoying the books?”

Thankfully, Osiris seemed happy to pivot to discussing his work, explaining how he had already used them as an example of translation differences and their effects on subtext to his latest group of Classics students. She listened intently, mindlessly ripping small pieces off her breadstick into a pile of crumbs on her plate.

The group clearly knew each other well, and she was relieved to find that the conversation flowed naturally around her without any of her own contributions, giving her space to settle in and observe the dynamic of the group. Uldren was notably the youngest, likely a newer addition to the faculty, but they all seemed to have a great deal of respect for each other regardless of tenure. As out of practice as she was at socializing, she did have to admit that it was pleasant to be in the company of likeminded people. She managed to order with minimal difficulty thanks to Ikora’s recommendation, and began to relax slightly.

“So, how long have you two been friends?” Uldren asked, clearly trying to include Eris in the conversation.

“We went to college together,” she replied, hoping that would be a sufficient answer to sate his curiosity. Unfortunately, he seemed intent on chatting with her.

“Oh, that’s great! Ikora doesn’t talk much about her time in school, perhaps you can share some of the embarrassing details she’s trying so hard to hide.”

Ikora inhaled sharply, suddenly very interested in the tablecloth. Eris sat frozen, feeling the discomfort spread among the group as both women’s silence stretched longer.

A plate hit the table in front of Eris, startling her. She hadn’t noticed the waiter approaching the table with their food, but welcomed the interruption. The others seemed to feel the same, with Zavala taking the opportunity to shift the conversation to the recent changes in the menu.

She tuned out most of the conversation for the remainder of the evening, the awkwardness returning to their voices when addressing her. As promised, her spaghetti puttanesca was delicious, but she could only stomach a few bites before resigning herself to pushing it around her plate in an attempt to look busy and waiting for the time to pass.

They didn’t discuss the uncomfortable moment on the drive home, Ikora choosing instead to attempt small talk about her work and the rain and the recent opening of the store. Eris responded mostly in varied hums, fidgeting with the paper tab of the takeout box in her lap. She hadn’t planned on taking her leftovers, but Ikora’s concern at her barely touched dinner had been enough to convince her to at least try to eat the rest later.

Once they were parked in front of Eris’ apartment building, Ikora gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you for coming. It was nice to have you join us.”

Eris took a shaky breath and nodded. “It… will take some getting used to. I appreciate you inviting me.” Her friend smiled in response, and she tried to ignore the pity in her eyes.

Once safely in the isolation of her own home, Eris tossed the leftovers unceremoniously into the fridge, collapsed on the couch, and fell asleep with her gloves and glasses still on.

Chapter Text

Thankfully, the weekend came and went without any more invitations, and Eris was able to spend the next few days recovering from her incredibly exhausting evening out.

She had been staying late at the shop almost every day lately, taking every opportunity to remain busy, or at least maintain the illusion of it. In truth, there wasn’t much that needed to be done, but reading in the store felt more productive than reading at home, and that was what mattered most. Customers were infrequent, and many of the people who did come in only did so to browse. Most of the time she was left to her own devices.

Her current book was proving disappointing. The reviews had been good, but the pacing was terrible and the characters flat, and it was getting increasingly difficult to stay focused on it.

A light knock caught her attention. She glanced over to the entrance but found it empty. She frowned slightly as the noise repeated, and this time she could tell it came from the other end of the store.

She frowned. What reason could he possibly have to be bothering her? She hadn’t dropped anything or made any other loud noises to draw his attention or justify concern. His motive was definitely just to come bother her. Under normal circumstances she would ignore him and go about her evening, but unfortunately tonight her boredom won.

She set down her magnifier and turned towards the closed back door. “Can I help you?” She did not raise her voice, the thin walls did little to muffle sound between the rooms and she was sure he was listening for her response.

Sure enough, the door popped open immediately, followed by a cheerful voice. “Well as a matter of fact, ya can!”

He did not wait for a response before sauntering inside, his boots clicking against the floorboards as he approached her desk. “Well ya see, it’s a Monday.”

“That is correct.”

“Uh huh! And unfortunately the sudoku was painfully easy.” The book in front of her shifted slightly as he rested his elbow on the desktop, leaning towards her slightly.

She scooted her chair back a fraction of an inch. “And so your substitute activity is bothering me?”

He laughed. “Now don’t get too flattered, my ‘substitute activity’ is actually the crossword,” he dropped a slightly crumpled sheet of newspaper between them and unfolded it, “but I’m not nearly as good at these, so I thought to myself, ‘you know who probably knows all kinds of fancy words and weird trivia? Eris!’ So I figured I’d pop over and pick your brain.”

“I do not do the crossword,” she replied flatly, “so I’m afraid I have little expertise to offer you.”

“Oh yeah? Let’s see then! Here’s one you might know. ‘Land on the Tigris and Eu-frates.’”

She snorted. “The Tigris and Euphrates were the borders of Mesopotamia.”

He clicked his tongue. “Ah ah ah! Too long, answer is only four letters.”

“Well you should have mentioned that in your question then. That’s in modern day Iraq.”

He penciled the answer in. “Hey, I didn’t know you would assume I was asking about the Bronze Age.”

“And I didn’t know you would omit important information,” she huffed. “I told you, I’m not well versed in these puzzles and am not the person to ask.”

“Hey, ya knew the answer, right?”

She sighed but didn’t reply, and he took the opportunity to continue.

“You know a two time Emmy winner named Remini? It’s four letters, if that helps,” he added with a smirk.

“I’m not well versed in pop culture. The first question just so happened to be on a topic I’m knowledgeable in, I likely have no more help to offer you.”

“Dang, guess that’s a blind spot for both of us then.” He set the newspaper down, seemingly losing interest and standing up from the desk. She expected him to leave, but he instead began to wander around the store inspecting various items and continuing his attempts to converse with her. “You a big history nut then?”

“I suppose you could say that.”

He turned to face her again. “You ever actually answer questions directly or are you too committed to the mysterious vibe for that.”

She scoffed, but did elaborate. “I have a Master’s Degree in Anthropology, so yes you could call me a ‘history nut’ if you felt so inclined.”

He whistled. “Dang, a Master’s huh? No wonder you talk like you’re from 1800, you’re an expert in old shit.”

If he saw her scowl he ignored it, continuing his painfully slow investigation of her stock. She wondered if he would inspect every item before leaving. She was starting to think she had judged her book too harshly and it would have been a preferable use of her time. “Say, what’s a moonflower anyway?”

“It’s a vine with large white flowers.” She tapped her fingers on the desk impatiently.

“So they just call it that cuz it looks like the moon?”

“No. It blooms at night, so it is often associated with the moon and carries much of the same symbolism.”

“You big into flowers? All that flower language stuff?”

“No.”

He ran his finger along one of the shelves. “Should’ve called it Moon Dust. You only been here for what, three weeks? How’s it already look like a haunted house in here?”

“Do you truly have nothing better to do with your time than insult my cleaning?” Her patience was wearing thin.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, just trying to make conversation while I shop.”

Eris stood, making her way to a shelf along the wall behind her. “As a matter of fact, I think I may have something that might interest you.”

“Aw, you have something special for me? How sweet.” She heard him return to the counter as she retrieved the item she was looking for and turned back to face him, placing a wet specimen jar on the desk with a loud thunk. Inside was a whole preserved rat floating in liquid.

His eyes widened. “You threatening me now?”

She tilted her chin upward, looking down her nose at him. “That is up to interpretation.”

To her surprise, he responded with a wide grin and leaned in closer to her. “You are one freaky lady,” he purred.

Their faces were close enough for her see the gap in his front teeth and the grey hairs at his temples. She felt a warmth begin to creep into her cheeks before recoiling.

“We’re closed.” She said firmly, pushing his newspaper across the desk back at him and turning to pack her bag. “Return to your side of the wall and do not touch my things while I’m gone.”

“Damn, not even gonna let me walk you to your stop?”

“No.” She shoved the last of her belongings in her bag and grabbed her keys, storming out the front door. As she locked it behind her, she could hear the echo of his laughter.

Chapter Text

Despite the listed hours stating she closed at six, she had been staying a fair bit later every day this week. Today, it was 8:30 by the time she began preparing to leave. As she gathered her items, she heard the bell on the door jingle. Looking up, she was surprised to find the unmistakeable silhouette of the Drifter once again strolling inside.

She had been avoiding him for the last few days, still sour about him embarrassing her last they spoke.

“I am pleased to see you at least used the front door this time, even if you seem set on only entering outside of business hours.” She continued packing her bag in an attempt to signal her immediate departure. As usual, he did not acknowledge it and instead continued to approach the counter.

“Hey, don’t ever let them tell ya I don’t have any manners.” He leaned against the desk and watched her haphazardly stuff her belongings into her bag.

“And yet here you are, inside my closed store.”

“Closed, huh?” There was a mischievous lilt in his voice that put her on edge.

“Yes. We are closed.”

“All done with work then?”

She sighed impatiently, standing up and lifting the straps of her bag onto her shoulder. “I am unsure how much more clear I can make it, Rat.”

He clapped his hands, startling her slightly. “Perfect! That means you’re free to come have that drink.”

She blinked. This was not the outcome she had anticipated. “I should really be getting home.”

“Ah c’mon, it’s Saturday night, you’re gonna turn down a free drink and head to bed early?” He was smug now, proud at having baited her into confirming her lack of plans.

“That was what I was planning, yes. I do not go out often.”

He laughed. “Well that much I can tell. For real though, it’s a good night, the gangs all in, it’ll be fun.”

“All the more reason for me to decline. I do not enjoy crowds, and they typically do not enjoy me.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily call it a crowd.”

She stared at him for a few seconds. “You are very persistent. What is it you hope to gain from this?”

He gasped theatrically. “What? You think I have some sneaky motive? Hand to my heart, I’m just trying to show some hospitality to my new neighbor. Didn’t realize you were allergic to fun.”

She sighed. As much as she hated to admit it, her competitive streak was winning over her desire for a quiet evening. He had managed to fluster her last time, and she was loathe to embarrass herself again. “Fine. If you really wish for me to come visit your lair, I will make a brief stop before I leave. Do not blame me if my presence negatively impacts the mood.”

“Aw c’mon sister, lighten up a bit, you’re gonna be just fine.” He turned on his heel and walked cheerfully back towards the door. She followed, flicking the lights off as she left. He paused just outside, giving her a moment to lock the door before leading her about ten feet to the left towards the adjacent business.

She stopped, taking the bag off her shoulder. “How many people should I expect to be inside.”

He shrugged. “I dunno, maybe about ten, including us?”

“Hm.” That was a larger number than she had hoped, definitely bordering on a crowd, at least by her standards.

She unfolded her cane, steeling her nerves as he held the door open for her.

She passed hesitantly through the doorway, stepping aside once over the threshold to allow him to pass and lead the way. She scanned the room, trying to map as much of the area as she could with her narrow field of view. His estimate seemed to be correct, there were people sitting at a few of the small tables and barstools, and a noisy game of some kind happening in one of the back corners. He began to pass between the tables, moving further back towards the bar where she had sat before, beckoning for her to follow.

She took a deep breath and began carefully moving forward, sweeping her cane in front of her feet.

Tap tap tap

The nearby conversation paused. She passed the first few tables, careful to avoid the legs of all the chairs. She heard someone scoot their seat closer to the table to make more room for her.

An unfamiliar room full of disorganized furniture and people she didn’t know. What was she even thinking? Why on earth had she agreed to any of this? Her last outing had been at a far more reputable establishment with far more respectable company and that had still been a disaster, and her last conversation with this suspicious man had been no better. Whatever curiosity had led her to accept his invitation was clearly something she should be concerned about.

To both her relief and mild surprise, the room returned to its normal volume as soon as she had passed the tables and settled onto a stool at the bar. She held her bag in her lap, shifting awkwardly in her seat.

The Drifter on the other hand was clearly in his element, sliding back to the other side of the countertop and giving a theatrical bow. “At your service, m’lady.”

Someone in a nearby seat snorted. A woman’s deep, teasing voice followed. “Do yourself a favor and never say that again. To anyone.”

The bartender brushed her off with a small wave. “Anyway,” he said, sarcastically dismissing her commentary, “what can I get ya.”

She fidgeted with her sleeves under the counter, considering how best to answer. “I… am not sure. I don’t drink often.”

“Hey, nothing wrong with that, gives me a better chance at being your favorite spot.”

“Yeah, because she doesn’t have anything better to compare it to,” the voice quipped again. This time Eris turned to face the source, her eyes landing on a grey haired woman two seats to her right.

He glared at her. “Ignore Thunderguns over there, she talks a big game, but she hasn’t stopped coming back so clearly I’m not doing that bad of a job.” He turned back to Eris. “You got a sweet tooth?”

She shook her head slightly. “Not particularly.”

He leaned forward and stared at her with narrowed eyes, as if carefully inspecting her, before straightening back up with a triumphant smile. “I think I got just the thing for you!”

He immediately turned around and began preparing his mysterious concoction without any further clarification.

Unsure what to do in the meantime, she settled on folding and unfolding the paper napkin in front of her and taking in the sounds of the bar. The game taking place in the corner was easily the loudest section of the room. The clacking of plastic was noticeable, but paled in comparison to the trash talk taking place.

“You’re going down old man.” A younger sounding voice, competitive but friendly.

“Ha! You are welcome to try. I have held the crown at this table since before you were born.” A deeper voice, with a thick Russian accent and similarly playful tone. She wondered if this was the ‘Colossus’ the Drifter had mentioned during his first aid application.

“So you must be the ‘Scary Lady Next Door’ he keeps mentioning.” Eris’ attention was pulled back to the other woman seated nearby, now addressing her directly.

Keeps mentioning? That was odd, but she reasoned that the addition of a new neighboring business was something interesting enough to discuss. Likely more so when it was run by an antisocial blind woman selling bones.

“I suppose that would be me, yes,” she confirmed, before adding, “Though clearly I am not scary enough to deter the Rat from scurrying into my store to antagonize me.”

“Some pests are very persistent,” she agreed with a chuckle.

To his credit, the man behind the bar also laughed. “Yeah, Baba Yaga over here has been very difficult to win over.”

“Tsch.” She scoffed audibly to supplement the roll of her eyes nobody could see.

“But you know Ol’ Drifter,” he paused in his task for a moment, turning to them with a wide smile and a dramatic flourish, “he’s a stubborn motherfucker and his charm knows no bounds.”

“Charm? Is that what they’re calling it these days?” The retorts came quickly, which was a welcome surprise. She supposed that her bouts with Asher had kept her banter sharp, even in the absence of other conversation. She pushed the thought away before she could dwell on it. “The word I would have chosen would be insolence.”

The Drifter glared at her, spearing a cherry onto a thin metal skewer. “Don’t cuss at me.”

She gave him a triumphant smirk and watched as he balanced the skewer on top of a small, stemmed glass and pushed it towards her. It was more delicate than she expected, even with her limited experience she suspected it was fancier than would be standard from this type of bar. It was also very green. Her color vision wasn’t the strongest, but even in this low light she could see the nearly glowing hue of the liquid.

Eris shifted her focus from the cocktail to the bartender. “What exactly is this?”

“Magic potion for the scary witch,” he answered proudly, the teasing tone still present.

She considered just taking it, but decided she was enjoying being difficult. “It seems unwise to accept a mysterious glowing drink from a strange man.”

He gasped, his hand flying to his chest in outrage. “And here I was thinkin’ we were friends.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Tell you what. Now usually this goes the other way, but if you’d rather check my ID before I serve you, we can make that happen.”

Now her interest was piqued. The man had been very cagey about offering any sort of clear identity thus far. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t curious.

The woman a few seats down however, was less impressed. “Ugh, if you’re gonna do this routine again I’m just gonna go watch Nimbus get their ass handed to them at the foosball table.” The squeak of a stool against the floor followed. The Drifter called after her as he opened his wallet, “Tell ‘em if they break that thing they’re washing my dishes for the next century.”

He returned his focus to Eris, holding out his hand with what looked like a drivers license between his fingers. As she reached for it, it fanned out into four, his face transforming into a sly grin. “Pick a card.”

She plucked all of them out of his hand. “I did not take you for a magician.”

“Oh I got plenty of tricks.” The suggestive lilt had returned. “I’m happy to show you some.”

She ignored him, running her fingers lightly over the cards before fishing her magnifier out from her bag. Most of the text was too small for her to even bother trying to read, but she did manage to make out the names as best as she could. None of them matched at all. Eli Ngoc. Germaine Luu. Todd Finch. Wu Ming Nguyen.

After a moment, she straightened them into a neat stack and set them back down on the table before reaching for the glass. “Thank you, Germaine.”

He froze for a moment before snatching the cards back. “Lucky guess,” he grumbled. “You and your magic magnifying glass gotta spoil the fun.”

The other three weren’t very good fakes, at least not to anyone who knew that the numbers on the back should be slightly raised, but she did not plan on explaining her method. Instead, she waved a hand dramatically above her head, as if gesturing to the origin of an otherworldly prophecy. “The stars whisper your name.”

He snorted. “Alright, alright, I get it, magician never reveals their secrets. Just don’t tell anyone. And quit stalling and tell me what you think of your drink.”

Satisfied with her victory, she shifted her attention towards the glass in her hand, taking a cautious sip. It was sour and herbaceous, with a complex blend of flavors she couldn’t identify. She could see what he meant by ‘magic potion’; the herbal taste and bright color did give it a mysterious effect.

He leaned forward on his elbows, staring at her expectantly, “Well?”

“Hmm.” She did not offer any verbal confirmation of her approval, but the second sip she took was enough for him to celebrate.

“Ha! I knew it, you definitely struck me as a gin gal. Besides, there’s no way you wouldn’t like this, you know why?”

Another sip. “I do not.”

“It’s named after something I already know you love to have.”

“And what would that be?”

He leaned in even closer. “The Last Word.”

This time she did not back away, refusing to fold to his attempts to fluster her. Instead, she picked up the skewer and returned his stare. “You will find I often get it,” she replied, biting the cherry off the metal pick.

His smile widened, his eyes continuing to make contact with hers. For a brief, illogical second, she feared he may be able to see them through her glasses. Mercifully, he stood back up after a few seconds, freeing her from the eye contact just before she caved.

“Say, I was wondering, about your glasses…”

She frowned slightly. “Choose your words carefully, Rat.”

“They’re for the UV light right? So it doesn’t damage your eyes?”

She cocked her head slightly, surprised by the question. It was more knowledgeable than she would have expected. “Yes, in large part.”

“Was curious why you wear ‘em inside and at night, too.”

She bristled slightly. “Why does it matter?”

A subtle clinking sound was echoing from the counter between them, like he was fidgeting with a metal object.

There was an unmistakable smirk in his voice when he responded. “Well the thing is that most of my lines don’t work if I can’t see your eyes. Makes you more difficult to flirt with.”

He was openly admitting to toying with her on purpose? No doubt a sleazy marketing ploy; she was probably an appealing potential customer as someone who spent several hours a day next to his business. It likely worked often with his patrons. From the few glimpses she had gotten of him close enough to clearly distinguish his face, she could tell he was an attractive man.

“They would not work anyway. My eyes are quite off putting, though I am confident you will find some other way to irritate me.”

A cocky grin spread across his face. “Moondust, I’m just getting started.”

The corner of her lips quirked upward in the slight ghost of a grin. “I have no doubt.”

As she finally relaxed into her seat at the Drifters bar, she continued slowly chipping away at her Last Word.

Chapter Text

Eris had to admit, however reluctantly, that she was having a slightly pleasant evening. Not out loud of course. And definitely not to the raggedy man behind the bar. She hoped nothing in her demeanor was giving it away, but his smug grin had her fearing otherwise. She couldn’t be certain though, as she was beginning to suspect that was his default expression. At least it seemed to be whenever their faces were close enough for her to be sure.

He was currently regaling her with a clearly exaggerated (if not entirely fabricated) retelling of a time he was almost eaten by an alligator before fighting it off with a mop.

“True story, I swear. Still somehow not the worst date I been on, believe it or not.” She replied only with a suspicious hmm, dragging her finger absentmindedly along the rim of her now empty cocktail glass, seemingly drawing his attention to it. “Can I getcha a refill?”

She shook her head. “One is enough, thank you.” She couldn’t remember the last time she drank, it had probably been years, and the single serving was enough to have the edges of her mind going ever so slightly fuzzy. Her alcohol tolerance definitely wasn’t what it used to be.

He didn’t insist, thankfully. The glass was quickly whisked away, leaving the counter empty in front of her. A clear sign her visit was at its end. No reason to stay at a bar you’re not drinking at, after all.

As she opened her mouth to excuse herself, someone approached the counter beside her, diverting the bartender’s attention. “One of your usual?”

“I need to convince Saint to take me somewhere else, if I’ve become enough of a regular to have a ‘usual’ at such a disreputable institution.” She immediately recognized him by the familiar, omnipresent tone of slight annoyance.

“I would not have expected to run into you on this side of the wall.” Osiris’ voice had a very slight teasing lilt to it, as if he had caught her in a scandalous act.

“I am surprised as well,” she replied cautiously, “this is a very different venue than our last meeting.

“My husband’s choice. He is currently preoccupied wiping the floor with his latest foosball challenger.” Osiris was married to the Colussus. An unexpected revelation, but it did explain why he would be here. Her presence, however, was still unexplained, and she quickly felt the need to justify herself.

“The Drifter here has been hounding me to come visit for a ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ for the last few weeks. I finally acquiesced in the hopes it will decrease his pestering of me.”

“I won’t tell Ikora if you won’t,” he replied, picking up the glass that had now appeared in front of him. His tone made her suspect he was only half joking.

Eris smiled slightly. “It may be in both our best interests not to mention it to her.”

A loud cheer erupted from the other side of the room. “Ah, I believe that’s my cue. Have a good evening Miss Morn.” He lifted his glass slightly in a small toast, then turned and made his way back towards the chaos.

The Drifter, his focus back on Eris, chuckled slightly. “You know him?”

“He is a friend of a friend.”

“Odd guy. Not who I what I would have expected Saint’s husband to be like. Tips well though, so he’s fine by me.” His Cheshire Cat grin had returned.

“Hint taken.” She reached for her wallet, but was immediately interrupted.

“Woah woah woah, I told ya, it’s on the house. What kinda swindler do you think I am?”

Her small smirk reappeared as well. “I’m not sure you want me to answer that question.”

That earned her a laugh. “Fair enough.” He rested against the bar, his elbows on the countertop. He leaned just a bit closer, his warm hazel eyes trained on her, wide smile showing the slight gap in his front teeth. She remembered the warmth of his hands when he had bandaged hers.

Okay, it was definitely time to go. Clearly she wasn’t thinking straight. She averted her eyes and cleared her throat. “I should be getting home. Thank you for the ‘welcome gift’. I’m sure I will see you soon.”

He raised his eyebrows conspiratorially. “Not if you hear me coming first.”

She allowed him a small smile before turning and making her way out the door.

It was colder outside than she remembered.