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The bar didn’t advertise.
The Last Drop, as the sign says, just a narrow door tucked between a mechanic’s shop and a shuttered florist, marked by a single bulb that buzzed like it might give up any night now. People who found it either meant to, or had nowhere else to go.
Vi worked nights like this on instinct. A usual day. If such a thing existed.
The same low lights. The same sticky patch near the third booth no matter how often she wiped it. The same regulars hunched over their drinks, shoulders heavy with the kind of silence that didn’t ask questions. Vi moved behind the bar with practiced ease, hands steady, mind half elsewhere.
Pour, slide, collect. Repeat.
Music thumped low and slow, a pulse more than a melody.
She liked it that way.
The door opened sometime after ten, letting in a burst of cold air and laughter.
A group of girls spilled inside, bright and loud against the dimness, heels clicking, coats slung over arms, voices overlapping. They looked out of place in the way people from elsewhere always did, like they hadn’t learned how to soften themselves yet. And then Vi saw her.
Ink-blue hair, dark and glossy under the violet light, cut neatly at her shoulder. She moved a half-step behind the others, smiling but quieter, eyes taking in the room with careful curiosity. Not nervous or shy just observant.
Vi’s hand stilled mid-wipe.
It wasn’t dramatic. No lightning strike. Just a subtle shift, like something clicking into place without asking permission.
The group claimed the small dance floor near the old jukebox. Drinks were ordered ,sweet, raw things and soon they were laughing, swaying, losing themselves to the rhythm. Vi watched between customers, pretending not to.
The blue-haired girl danced too, but differently. Less abandon, more awareness. She laughed when the others pulled her close, but she never let go completely. And Vi noticed something else.
She didn’t drink.
Her friends tipped back glasses, ordered refills, cheeks flushing. The blue-haired girl held her glass the entire time, fingers resting on the rim but it never reached her lips. She sipped water instead, quietly, deliberately.
Vi frowned, not sure why that mattered. But it did.
An hour later, coats were put on. Laughter spilled out the door again, carried off into the street. All of them left except her.The blue-haired girl lingered.
She slipped off her heels near the door, winced softly, then picked them up in one hand. Barefoot now, she crossed the room and slid onto a barstool at the far end, posture suddenly smaller, almost shy.
Vi approached, set down a coaster without a word.
The girl glanced up, surprised, then smiled tentative, polite. Up close, her eyes were a clear, thoughtful blue.
“Sorry,” she said quietly waving at her bare feet, her accent showing. “I hope this is okay.”
Vi shrugged. “Heels come off or feet go numb. House rule.”
The girl let out a soft laugh, relieved. “Good. Then I chose wisely.”
Vi gestured to the bottles. “You want something?”
‘’Actually,” she said, almost like she was surprising herself, “Could I get a whiskey?”
Vi paused. Not enough to make it awkward, just enough to notice.
“Didn’t drink all night,” Vi said mildly, reaching for a glass. “And now you want strong?”
The girl’s brows lifted. “How did you know?”
Vi’s lips twitched. “ I notice things.”
That earned a quiet laugh. Not the kind meant to be shared. She glanced down at the bar, then back up.
“I like my alcohol alone,” she said. “And quiet.”
Vi studied her for a second longer, then nodded. “Yeah. That tracks.”
She reached for the bottle, nothing fancy, but honest. Poured it neat. No ice. No questions. She slid it across the bar and watched closely this time.
The girl didn’t rush it. She lifted the glass, inhaled once, then took a slow sip. Her shoulders loosened just a fraction.
“That’s better,” she murmured.
Vi smirked. “Careful. You’re starting to sound like a regular.”
She chuckled, dipping her head low, letting her blue hair cover her face You got a name?” Vi asked.
The girl hesitated again, just a fraction of a second too long to miss then answered.
“Caitlyn.”
Vi nodded once. “Vi.”
Caitlyn repeated it under her breath, like she was checking the shape of it. “Vi.”
Their eyes met. Held.
“You waiting on someone?” Vi asked, keeping her voice casual, wiping down another glass.
The girl shook her head. “No. Just… resting.” A pause. “They don’t usually last this late.”
“Your friends?”
She nodded. “They like places that don’t make them think.”
Vi huffed quietly. “Yeah. This isn’t one of those.”
The girl smiled at that, faint but genuine. She traced the condensation on her glass with one finger. “No. It isn’t.”
Vi leaned her forearms on the bar, giving her space but not leaving. “You from around here?”
The girl hesitated, then shook her head again. “Not really.”
“Vague answer.”
“It’s a vague situation.” She glanced up, meeting Vi’s eyes briefly before looking away.
“I’m staying topside. For work.”
That explained it, at least partly. The careful clothes. The way she held herself like she was used to rooms that listened when she spoke.
“You don’t look like you belong in a place that smells like spilled whiskey and regret,” Vi said.
The girl laughed softly. “I was thinking the same thing about myself.”
Silence slipped between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt deliberate, like both of them were choosing not to fill it too quickly.
“I like your hair,” Vi said finally. “The color.”
The girl’s hand stilled. “Oh. Thank you.” A beat. “It’s not… practical.”
“Nothing worth noticing ever is.”
That earned a longer look. Curious now. Studying.
“You say things like you’ve been here a long time,” the girl said.
Vi shrugged. “Long enough to know when someone’s visiting.”
Caitlyn took another sip of the whiskey, then glanced at Vi like the thought had been sitting with her for a while. “So,” she said, careful, “Do you always work this late?”
Vi smirked. “There it is.”
“There what is?”
“The personal question pretending to be casual.”
Caitlyn’s lips pressed together, amused. “Am I not allowed to ask ?”
Vi chuckled and leaned against the counter. “Most nights. Someone’s gotta make sure this place doesn’t burn down.”
Caitlyn watched her closely. “You like it? Being here I mean.”
Vi shrugged, looking around. “It’s familiar. People don’t expect much from you behind a bar. Makes things simpler.”
“Is that what you want?” Caitlyn asked. “Simple?”
Vi tilted her head. “You asking out of curiosity… or concern?”
Caitlyn hesitated. Just a flicker. “Concern.”
“Mmhmm.” Vi smiled. “You’re bad at lying.”
Caitlyn laughed under her breath, posh but slowly letting loose. “And you’re very confident for someone who smells like citrus cleaner.”
“Occupational hazard. It comes with the job”
Caitlyn shifted again, resting her chin lightly on her hand. “What about when you’re not here?”
Vi raised a brow, a smirk ghosted her lips. “You trying to picture me outside this place?”
“Maybe,” Caitlyn said with a glint in her eyes. “Is that allowed?”
Vi leaned closer, voice low. “Careful. Might ruin the mystery.”
Caitlyn held her gaze, then softened, her shoulders moving up. “I think you’d still be… interesting.”
Vi straightened, pretending not to feel that land exactly where it did. “Alright, topside,” she said lightly. “My turn.”
Caitlyn smiled, tilting her head a little
“You ask questions like you’re used to getting answers,” Vi said. “And you sit like the furniture costs more than my monthly rent.”
Caitlyn glanced down at herself, then back up, laughing quietly. “That’s unfairly accurate.”
“So what brings a careful, barefoot, non-drinking topside girl into my very questionable bar?”
Caitlyn’s smile faltered not gone, just restrained. “A long day.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No,” Caitlyn agreed. “But it’s all you’re getting tonight.”
Vi studied her for a moment, then nodded. “Fair.”
They sat in that understanding, the kind that didn’t push but didn’t retreat either.
“So,” she said, casual on the surface, “you always end up alone at the end of the night?”
Caitlyn’s mouth curved. “Only when I need to.”
“Meaning tonight’s one of those?”
A pause. Not long. Measured. “Yes.”
Vi nodded like that told her enough. “You don’t like crowds.”
“I tolerate them,” Caitlyn corrected. “There’s a difference.”
Vi smirked. “Topside answer.”
Caitlyn laughed softly. “You keep saying that.”
“Because you keep proving it.” Vi leaned an elbow on the bar. “You walk in, head held up high like you expect to be recognized, but you sit like you don’t want to be.”
Caitlyn blinked, genuinely caught off guard this time. “That’s… uncomfortably accurate.”
“Told you,” Vi said. “I notice things.”
Caitlyn took another sip of whiskey, her blue eyes glimmering. “What else do you notice?”
Vi tilted her head, considering her carefully. “That you listen more than you talk. That you didn’t check your phone once. That you ordered water first like you were keeping control… and whiskey later like you decided you don’t need to keep your guard up anymore.”
Caitlyn held her gaze, something thoughtful flickering behind her eyes. “And what does that say about me?”
“That you don’t do anything halfway,” Vi replied. “Even relaxing.”
Caitlyn smiled at that soft, almost fond. “You make me sound exhausting.”
“Little bit,” Vi laughed. “But interesting.”
She glanced at the glass in Caitlyn’s hand. Barely an ounce left.
She reached for the bottle but didn’t pour yet.
“Careful,” Vi said. “That’s the kind of drinking that sneaks up on you.”
Caitlyn looked at the glass, then back at Vi. “Is that a warning or an offer?”
Vi’s mouth curved. “Depends how brave you’re feeling.”
Caitlyn held her gaze for a long second, then slid the empty glass forward. Just an inch. Deliberate.
“Surprise me.”
Vi huffed softly, amused. “Topside girls always say that.”
“And you always listen anyway,” Caitlyn replied.
Vi leaned in, close enough now that Caitlyn could smell the citrus cleaner and something warmer beneath it.Cinnamon. She poured slow, controlled. Not too much. Just enough.
“You sure?” Vi asked quietly. “You said you like it alone and quiet.”
Caitlyn’s voice dropped. “I meant the drink.”
Vi slid the glass back. Their fingers met again this time neither pretended it was an accident.
“Alright then,” Vi murmured. “But if you start telling me secrets, I’m blaming the whiskey.”
Caitlyn’s lips curved. “If I do, I’ll blame the bartender.”
They both leaned in at the same time without deciding to. Over the bar now, elbows resting on the edge. The space between them shrank until it felt intentional.
“To what?” Vi asked, lifting her own glass.
Caitlyn considered her, eyes bright, unreadable. “To noticing things.”
Vi smiled. “Dangerous habit.”
Their glasses touched. A soft clink. Close enough that Caitlyn’s knuckles brushed Vi’s again.
They drank.
Caitlyn didn’t pull back right away. Neither did Vi.
“Vi,” Caitlyn said softly, like she was trying the name again.
“Yeah?”
“You’re very distracting.”
Neither of them moved away.
Caitlyn set her glass down first, slower than necessary. “You always lean this close to your customers,” she asked, voice light, “or am I special?”
Vi let out a quiet laugh. “You keep asking that like you don’t already know the answer.”
“And what if I like pretending I don’t?”
Vi tilted her head, eyes steady. “Then I’ll let you.”
Caitlyn’s smile softened, something almost vulnerable slipping through the composure. She traced the rim of her glass again, then looked up. “You never told me why you stay.”
Vi blinked. That one landed closer than expected.
“I told you,” she said carefully. “I like knowing the exits.”
“That’s not a reason,” Caitlyn said. “That’s a precaution.”
Vi leaned back just enough to study her. “You always push like this?”
“Only when I’m curious.”
“And you’re curious about me.”
Caitlyn didn’t deny it. “You don’t talk like someone who’s content,” she said. “But you don’t talk like someone stuck either.”
Vi smiled, slow and thoughtful. “You’re dangerous when you’re sober.”
Caitlyn lifted her glass. “Imagine me drunk.”
“Let’s not,” Vi said, then added, quieter, “Not yet.”
That earned a look sharp, pleased, unmistakably charged.
The bar grew quieter as the last regular paid and slipped out. Vi watched the door close, then glanced back at Caitlyn.
“You’re my last customer,” she said.
Caitlyn’s brows lifted. “Should I feel honored?”
“Maybe,” Vi replied. “Or warned.”
Caitlyn leaned in again, elbows on the bar, close enough that Vi could feel her presence without touching. “What happens to last customers?”
Vi met her gaze, the air between them tight as a held breath. “Sometimes,” she said, “they get one more drink. Sometimes they get walked to the door.”
“And other times?”
Vi smiled. “Sometimes they get remembered.”
Caitlyn’s expression softened at that, something warm and genuine breaking through. “Then,” she said quietly, “I’m glad I stayed.”
——————————————————————————————————————
Caitlyn glanced at the clock behind the bar, then back at Vi. Reluctance flickered across her face, quickly masked.
“I should go,” she said, softer than before.
Vi nodded, even though everything in her posture said otherwise. “Yeah. Figured you might.”
Caitlyn slipped off the stool, wincing slightly as she slid back into her heels. She steadied herself on the bar for a moment. Vi noticed. Of course she did.
“You good?” Vi asked.
Caitlyn smiled. “I will be.”
She picked up her coat, hesitated, then met Vi’s eyes again. “Thank you. For the drink. And the company.”
Vi leaned across the bar. “Anytime.”
Caitlyn took a few steps toward the door, then paused, glancing back like she’d forgotten something important.
Vi didn’t think. She just called out.
“Hey ink-blue.”
Caitlyn turned, surprised. “Yeah?”
Vi smiled, easy but sincere. “Next time, don’t wait till the end of the night to come talk to me.”
Caitlyn’s lips curved slowly. “Next time?”
Vi shrugged. “You seem like a ‘next time’ kind of person.”
Caitlyn held her gaze for a long beat, then nodded once. “Goodnight, Vi.”
“Night, Cait.”
The door closed behind her, the violet bulb flickering softly.
Vi stood there for a moment, then cursed under her breath, grabbed her jacket, and flipped the sign to Closed.
By the time she caught up outside, Caitlyn was standing on the curb, one heel in her hand again, phone out as she waited for a cab.
Vi stopped a few steps away. “You sure you don’t want an escort? Zaun is not exactly gentle.”
Caitlyn looked up, clearly surprised then amused. “You offering?”
“Just till your ride gets here,” Vi said. “Bartender’s privilege.”
Caitlyn tucked her phone away. “I won’t say no to good company.”
They stood side by side, close but not touching, breath fogging faintly in the cool air. The cab lights appeared at the end of the street, distant but approaching.
Caitlyn glanced over. “You going to remember me tomorrow?”
Vi smirked. “You kidding? Ink-blue hair, orders whiskey like it’s a confession?”
Caitlyn laughed softly. “Fair.”
The cab pulled up. Caitlyn opened the door, then hesitated again one foot inside, one still on the pavement.
“I don’t usually do this,” she said quietly.
“Do what?”
“Leave without knowing if I’ll see someone again.”
Vi met her eyes, steady. “You will.”
Caitlyn searched her face, then smiled warm, certain. “Then I’ll come back.”
She stepped into the cab. The door closed.
Vi watched as it pulled away, tail lights fading into the dark.
She stood there a moment longer, hands in her pockets, the violet bulb buzzing softly above her head.
For the first time in a long while, Vi was already looking forward to tomorrow.