Page 103
Story: Dark Rover's Luck
"Maybe because it was true. His pupils dilated when I revealed it as if he was surprised that I found out his secret hobby."
Atzil's booming laughter echoed in the emptiness of the bar. "I'll take the trash to the incinerator." He hefted two large bags. "You two finish up in here."
As he left through the back door, Fenella was left alone with Din for the first time in hours. She watched him as he finished mopping, looking as fresh and as put together as he had been at the start of the night. The guy had a gift for looking composed no matter the circumstances.
"Thank you for helping." She broke the silence. "I'd forgotten how exhausting a night of bartending can be."
Din looked up, a smile warming his features. "I'm more than happy to help. But tell me the truth. What was more tiring, the entertaining or the actual bartending?"
"Equal measures." Fenella leaned against the counter.
"You were amazing," Din said, and there was something in his tone that made her cheeks heat up. "The queen of the night. You had them eating out of your hand."
"It's just part of being a good bartender," Fenella said, deflecting the compliment. "Half of what people pay for is the show. Some bartenders do that with fancy bottle acrobatics, which I do well, and some tell jokes or make up stories about what they supposedly heard from former customers."
He chuckled. "I didn't know those were made-up stories. I thought they were real. Still, I'm sure that not everyone can invent outrageous stories on the spot like you do."
"I surprised myself. I guess the years of constantly changing identities and reinventing myself helped me develop a talent for storytelling."
Din's expression softened into something that looked dangerously like sympathy. "Thankfully, you don't have to do that anymore. You are finally safe."
"Who says I feel safe?" she murmured.
The words emerged more honest than she'd intended, hanging in the air between them. Fenella hadn't meant to reveal that persistent feeling that safety was an illusion that could shatter at any moment, even here, even in the immortals' village.
Shit happened, and it usually didn't come with warning bells, and even if it did, people tended to ignore the sounds until it was too late.
Din set the mop aside and walked over to her. "The village is the safest place you could be in, and people here care about you."
Fenella knew he meant it kindly, but something in his certainty pricked at her. "I had people who cared about me in Scotland, too," she said. "That didn't stop what happened. I've gotten immortality out of it, but at what price? The years I could have spent with my family that I can never recover, the endless roving and fear of being discovered."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound dismissive of your concerns."
His immediate acknowledgment of her perspective disarmed her, the apology easing the defensive tension that had begun to build. "It's fine. I know the village is safe, but that doesn't mean nothing bad can ever happen here. You have all these security measures in place for a reason."
He nodded. "Good point. Perhaps a better way to state it is that the village is as secure as it gets, but there are no guarantees that nothing bad will ever happen here."
The sound of the door opening startled her, but it was only Atzil.
"All done?" he asked.
"The bar's clean, glasses are stacked in the dishwasher, and Din has mopped the entire floor."
"Excellent," Atzil said. "We make a good team."
"We do," Fenella agreed.
Atzil clapped her gently on the back. "Time to go home, girl. Tomorrow is another day."
Outside, the night air was cool and refreshing after hours in the warm, crowded bar. Stars blanketed the sky above the village, more visible now than on any of the previous nights.
"Well, I'm off to collapse in bed for a few hours." Atzil locked the door behind them. "You did a great job tonight, Fenella. I'll see you tomorrow at seven?"
"I'll be here," she confirmed.
He offered his hand to Din. "Thanks for the free labor. You're invited to volunteer every night."
Din chuckled. "I just might."
Atzil's booming laughter echoed in the emptiness of the bar. "I'll take the trash to the incinerator." He hefted two large bags. "You two finish up in here."
As he left through the back door, Fenella was left alone with Din for the first time in hours. She watched him as he finished mopping, looking as fresh and as put together as he had been at the start of the night. The guy had a gift for looking composed no matter the circumstances.
"Thank you for helping." She broke the silence. "I'd forgotten how exhausting a night of bartending can be."
Din looked up, a smile warming his features. "I'm more than happy to help. But tell me the truth. What was more tiring, the entertaining or the actual bartending?"
"Equal measures." Fenella leaned against the counter.
"You were amazing," Din said, and there was something in his tone that made her cheeks heat up. "The queen of the night. You had them eating out of your hand."
"It's just part of being a good bartender," Fenella said, deflecting the compliment. "Half of what people pay for is the show. Some bartenders do that with fancy bottle acrobatics, which I do well, and some tell jokes or make up stories about what they supposedly heard from former customers."
He chuckled. "I didn't know those were made-up stories. I thought they were real. Still, I'm sure that not everyone can invent outrageous stories on the spot like you do."
"I surprised myself. I guess the years of constantly changing identities and reinventing myself helped me develop a talent for storytelling."
Din's expression softened into something that looked dangerously like sympathy. "Thankfully, you don't have to do that anymore. You are finally safe."
"Who says I feel safe?" she murmured.
The words emerged more honest than she'd intended, hanging in the air between them. Fenella hadn't meant to reveal that persistent feeling that safety was an illusion that could shatter at any moment, even here, even in the immortals' village.
Shit happened, and it usually didn't come with warning bells, and even if it did, people tended to ignore the sounds until it was too late.
Din set the mop aside and walked over to her. "The village is the safest place you could be in, and people here care about you."
Fenella knew he meant it kindly, but something in his certainty pricked at her. "I had people who cared about me in Scotland, too," she said. "That didn't stop what happened. I've gotten immortality out of it, but at what price? The years I could have spent with my family that I can never recover, the endless roving and fear of being discovered."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound dismissive of your concerns."
His immediate acknowledgment of her perspective disarmed her, the apology easing the defensive tension that had begun to build. "It's fine. I know the village is safe, but that doesn't mean nothing bad can ever happen here. You have all these security measures in place for a reason."
He nodded. "Good point. Perhaps a better way to state it is that the village is as secure as it gets, but there are no guarantees that nothing bad will ever happen here."
The sound of the door opening startled her, but it was only Atzil.
"All done?" he asked.
"The bar's clean, glasses are stacked in the dishwasher, and Din has mopped the entire floor."
"Excellent," Atzil said. "We make a good team."
"We do," Fenella agreed.
Atzil clapped her gently on the back. "Time to go home, girl. Tomorrow is another day."
Outside, the night air was cool and refreshing after hours in the warm, crowded bar. Stars blanketed the sky above the village, more visible now than on any of the previous nights.
"Well, I'm off to collapse in bed for a few hours." Atzil locked the door behind them. "You did a great job tonight, Fenella. I'll see you tomorrow at seven?"
"I'll be here," she confirmed.
He offered his hand to Din. "Thanks for the free labor. You're invited to volunteer every night."
Din chuckled. "I just might."
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