Chapter Two

Celeste woke slowly.

Not to anything specific. Just the kind of half-awareness that came before fully opening her eyes. It took a second before she realized there was sound coming from below her, faint but steady. Movement. Glass shifting. Something being set down.

She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling for a moment, letting herself wake up properly before moving. The room looked the same as it had the night before. Nothing out of place. Nothing unfamiliar.

She pushed herself up, sitting on the edge of the bed, her feet resting against the cold floor. She stayed there for a few seconds, not thinking about anything in particular, just letting the quiet settle before standing.

She grabbed a change of clothes from her bag and headed into the bathroom. The shower was quick, the water just warm enough to wake her up without making her linger. By the time she stepped out, she was already moving again, pulling on her clothes, running her fingers through her hair once, and reaching for her jacket.

There wasn’t anything in the room worth staying for.

She stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind her.

It was quiet up here. No one moving around. No doors opening or closing. Just still.

She walked down the hall without slowing and reached the staircase. The sound from below was clearer now. Not loud, but enough to tell her someone had already started the day.

She headed down.

The staircase curved slightly at the bottom, tucked behind a wall that separated it from the bar. As soon as she turned the corner, the space opened up in front of her.

The man from last night stood behind the counter, already working. He was wiping down bottles and placing them back on the shelves, one at a time, like he had all the time in the world.

Celeste stepped fully into the room.

Her boots made just enough noise against the floor.

He looked up.

“You’re up.”

She walked over to the bar.

“So are you.”

He shrugged slightly. “Didn’t sleep.”

“That explains it.”

He didn’t respond to that. Just grabbed another bottle.

Celeste rested her hand against the edge of the counter, glancing around the space again.

“You always do this alone?” she asked.

“Most of the time.”

He set the bottle down and grabbed a glass, pouring coffee before sliding it toward her.

She looked at it. “I didn’t ask for that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

She picked it up anyway, taking a sip.

“Thanks.”

He nodded once and went back to what he was doing.

“You staying for awhile?” he asked after a moment.

“For now.”

“Works.”

Silence settled again, easy and unforced.

After a minute, he set the towel down and wiped his hands.

“Riven.”

She looked at him.

“Celeste.”

That was it.

No extra words.

She finished the coffee and set the glass down.

“I’ll be back,” she said.

He gave a small nod. “Yeah.”

**

The air outside was cooler than she expected.

Not cold, just enough to wake her up the rest of the way.

Celeste stepped onto the sidewalk and looked around. The street wasn’t busy, but it wasn’t empty either. Cars passed every so often. A few people moved in and out of nearby shops.

It felt like a place that minded its own business.

She started walking.

No real direction. Just moving.

The first place she tried didn’t take long.

A small store with a handwritten sign in the window. She stepped inside, asked, waited, and got a quick shake of the head before she was even finished talking.

“Not hiring.”

She nodded once and left.

The second place was the same.

So was the third.

By the fourth, she stopped bothering to explain much. Just asked, waited, and moved on when the answer didn’t change.

It didn’t take long before it all started to blur together.

Different doors. Same answer.

She kept going anyway.

There wasn’t much else to do.

Hours passed without her really noticing. The street shifted around her, more people filling it as the day moved on, but nothing changed where it mattered.

No one needed help.

Or at least, no one was offering it.

Eventually, she stopped trying.

Celeste slowed, letting out a small breath as she looked around. She didn’t even know where she was anymore. Just another part of the same city.

That didn’t matter either.

She turned back.

**

By the time she made it back to the bar, the place had changed.

Lights were on. Music low. People scattered around the room, some at tables, some at the bar.

It wasn’t busy yet.

But it was getting there.

She stepped inside and made her way over, slipping onto a stool without saying anything.

Riven glanced at her.

“You’re back.”

“Didn’t have much luck.”

He grabbed a glass, poured something, and set it in front of her.

She took a sip.

Stronger than before.

“Figures,” he said.

She rested her arms against the counter.

“Seems like no one’s hiring.”

“Not around here.”

She nodded once.

That tracked with everything she’d just dealt with.

For a minute, neither of them said anything.

Then he set the towel down.

“I could use help.”

She looked at him.

He didn’t elaborate right away. Just leaned back slightly against the counter.

“Nothing complicated,” he added. “Cleaning. Keeping things in place. That kind of thing.”

Celeste watched him for a second.

“You offering me a job?”

“If you want it.”

She glanced around the bar. At the people. The space. The way everything moved without much structure but still worked.

It wasn’t much.

But it was something.

“What’s the catch?” she asked.

“No catch.”

She studied him for another second, like she was expecting something else.

There wasn’t anything.

“Alright,” she said finally.

He nodded once, like that settled it.

“Then start by clearing those,” he said, nodding toward a table off to the side.

She glanced over, then back at him.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Celeste pushed off the stool and stood.

Simple enough.

She grabbed the glasses from the table, bringing them back to the bar and setting them down. No one stopped her. No one questioned it.

She moved to the next one.

Then the next.

It didn’t take long to fall into it.

Nothing complicated. Just something to do.

Riven didn’t say much after that. Just worked around her, like she’d already been there longer than a few minutes.

People started coming in more steadily as the night picked up.

The noise grew. Conversations layered over each other. Glasses clinked. Chairs scraped against the floor.

Celeste moved through it without thinking too much about it.

One table, then the next, then the one near the front where two empty glasses sat beside a bottle someone had left behind. None of it was difficult. Nothing required much thought. Pick things up. Bring them back. Wipe down what needed wiping. Push chairs back in when people left them crooked.

No one hovered over her. No one explained too much. Riven didn’t stop every five seconds to tell her how to do something she could already figure out for herself. If something needed to be done, he either nodded toward it or handled it himself.

The bar hadn’t filled completely yet, but it was getting there. A few men came in together and took a table near the back. Another woman slid onto a stool at the far end of the counter and asked for something before Riven was even looking at her. He gave it to her anyway, like he already knew what she wanted.

She moved back to the bar and set down the last two glasses she’d collected. Riven took them without a word, rinsed them out, and set them aside. She reached for the rag sitting near the sink and wiped down the counter where someone had left a ring of moisture and a sticky patch that hadn’t been cleaned properly.

When she was done, she looked around again.

There was always something else.

A chair to straighten. A glass to move. A table to wipe down.

It kept her busy enough that time passed without her really noticing.

At some point, Riven set another drink in front of her without saying anything. She glanced at it, then at him.

“I’m working,” she said.

He kept pouring something for someone else. “And?”

She looked at the glass again.

He wasn’t wrong.

She picked it up and took a quick sip before setting it back down and going to clear another table.

No one seemed to question her being there. A few people glanced her way when they first noticed her, but no one said anything. No one asked who she was or why she was helping. Maybe because Riven hadn’t stopped her. Maybe because people in places like this didn’t care enough to ask questions if nothing directly affected them.

Either way, it worked in her favor.

A man near one of the side tables leaned back in his chair and watched her for a second too long when she came by to grab an empty glass. Celeste ignored him the first time. The second time, when she came back through and he was still looking, she met his gaze long enough that he looked away first.

That ended that.

She brought the glass back to the counter and set it down.

Riven looked at her once.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

She narrowed her eyes slightly. “You looked like you were about to say something.”

He shrugged. “You handled it.”

Celeste picked up the rag again and wiped down the part of the counter closest to her, slower this time, more because she had nothing else to do for the moment than because it needed it.

The music had gone up a little. Not loud enough to make people shout over it, but enough to fill the quiet spaces between conversations. The low pulse of it blended with the sound of glasses clinking and chairs scraping against the floor.

A group came in not long after that, louder than everyone else had been, and took over the table closest to the wall. Two men and a woman, all of them talking over each other before they had even sat down. One of them knocked his chair into the next table and didn’t bother fixing it.

Celeste stepped around it when she passed.

She got the sense that nights here probably got worse before they got better.

Riven didn’t seem bothered by any of it. He moved the same way he had all day, steady, quiet, not rushed. People came to him for drinks, he poured them, took the money, handed back change when needed, and kept going. He didn’t waste words. Didn’t waste time either.

Celeste liked that.

There were too many people in the world who filled space just because they couldn’t stand silence.

Riven didn’t seem like one of them.

A woman in a red jacket came up to the bar and gave Celeste a quick look before turning to Riven. “You hired help?”

“Looks like it,” he said.

The woman smirked slightly and leaned an elbow on the counter. “About time.”

Celeste kept her face neutral and moved past them toward a table near the front.

She didn’t care enough to ask what that meant.

The woman got her drink and left. The group by the wall got louder. One of the men laughed hard enough to cough and nearly knocked over his bottle. Someone else came in alone and took a stool at the end of the bar without saying anything.

The place kept moving.

And Celeste moved with it.

She didn’t know how long she had been at it before her feet started to ache slightly, but by then it had already become part of the background. She kept going anyway. She had spent most of the day walking the city for nothing. This, at least, got her somewhere.

A place to stay.

Something to do.

Money, eventually.

That was more than she had this morning.

She made her way back behind the corner of the bar long enough to stack a few clean glasses where Riven pointed and nearly bumped into him when he turned at the same time.

He stopped short. So did she.

For a second, neither of them moved.

Then he stepped aside first.

“Careful,” he said.

“You were in the way.”

He looked at her, expression flat. “You were in my space.”

She stared at him for a beat, then reached past him for one of the bottles on the counter.

“Same difference.”

A faint sound left him then, not quite a laugh, but close enough that she noticed it.

He took the bottle from her hand and set it somewhere else. “That doesn’t go there.”

“Then maybe stop putting everything in places no one would guess.”

“It’s a bar, not a puzzle.”

She glanced around at the shelves. “Could’ve fooled me.”

That time, the corner of his mouth moved just slightly.

Celeste looked away first and grabbed the stack of coasters sitting on the end of the counter, moving back out into the room before the moment could turn into anything else.

Not that it would have.

Still.

She set fresh coasters down at the tables that needed them and kept moving.

More people came in.

The noise rose with them, but not so much that it became annoying. It stayed at that same level of rough energy she had noticed the night before, just enough to keep the room alive, not enough to feel out of control.

For now.

A man in a dark jacket came to the bar and ordered two drinks, then looked past Riven toward Celeste.

“She new?”

Riven kept pouring. “You asking because you care?”

The man laughed once. “Just asking.”

Riven slid the drinks toward him. “Don’t.”

The man held up one hand like he hadn’t meant anything by it, grabbed the glasses, and walked off.

Celeste had heard enough of that exchange to understand what it was.

She didn’t comment on it.

She just picked up the empty bottle from a nearby table and took it back to the bar.

Riven took it from her hand without looking at her. “Ignore him.”

“I was.”

He nodded once.

That was the end of it.

Later, when the crowd dipped for a few minutes and the place finally quieted down enough for her to stand still without immediately spotting something else to do, Celeste leaned both hands on the counter and looked around.

It was different now than it had been when she first came down that morning.

Not packed wall to wall, but full enough that the room had a rhythm to it. People settled into their places. Drinks got refilled. Conversations came and went.

And somehow, without really noticing when it happened, she had found a place inside it too.

Riven set something down in front of her.

Food.

Nothing fancy. Just a plate with something hot on it and a fork set beside it.

She looked at him.

“I didn’t order this either.”

“You also didn’t eat.”

She glanced down at the plate, then back at him. “You keeping track of that now?”

“No. You’re just obvious.”

Celeste stared at him for a second, then picked up the fork.

It was better than she expected. She didn’t say that out loud.

Riven kept moving behind the bar while she ate, and neither of them spoke for a while.

She didn’t mind it.

The longer she stayed there, the easier it got.

Not because anyone made it easy. They didn’t. The place was what it was. The people were what they were.

But no one asked anything from her beyond what was right in front of them. Clear the glasses. Wipe the tables. Move when you need to.

That she could do.

The plate was empty by the time another small wave of people came in, and Celeste slid it back toward the sink before going back to work.

At some point, one of the men from the louder group by the wall stood too quickly and knocked over his empty bottle. It hit the floor and rolled beneath the table.

He looked down at it, then looked at Celeste as she walked over.

“You got that?”

She bent, picked it up, and set it on the table.

He gave her a lazy grin she didn’t return.

“Appreciate it.”

She said nothing and walked away.

When she got back to the counter, Riven was watching her.

“What?” she asked again.

“You’ve got a look.”

She wiped down a fresh ring of spilled liquor with the rag in her hand. “That’s unfortunate for everyone.”

That got the same almost-laugh from him as before.

A few people left. A few more came in. The woman in the red jacket returned for another drink and gave Celeste the same quick once-over as before, though this time she said nothing. The man at the end of the bar paid and left without ever saying more than three words the whole time he’d been there.

It all blended together after a while.

The work.

The noise.

The people.

By the time things finally started thinning out for real, Celeste had stopped checking the room every few minutes. She had stopped thinking about whether she belonged there at all. She was just doing what needed to be done because it was there in front of her.

She brought the last of the empty glasses back to the counter and stacked them near the sink.

Riven was counting money from the register, his attention fixed on the bills in front of him.

“You always stay this late?” she asked.

“Most nights.”

“That sounds miserable.”

He slid the drawer shut. “Then don’t.”

Celeste let out a quiet breath through her nose.

Fair enough.

He looked up then, finally giving her his full attention again.

“You did fine.”

She leaned one hip against the counter. “High praise.”

“It wasn’t praise.”

“Sure.”

He ignored that.

Then he reached into the register again, pulled out some cash, and set it on the counter between them.

Celeste looked down at it.

“What’s that?”

“Pay.”

Her eyes lifted back to his.

“For one night?”

“For the hours you worked.”

She stared at the money for a second, then picked it up and tucked it into her jacket pocket.

“Alright.”

That was more than she had this morning too.

Riven grabbed the towel again and started wiping down the section of counter nearest him, like that settled everything.

It probably did.

Celeste looked around the room one last time. The place was quieter now. Not empty yet, but close enough that the difference was obvious.

She was tired.

Not enough to say it. Just enough to feel it.

“I’m going upstairs,” she said.

Riven nodded once. “Be here tomorrow.”

She looked at him.

That sounded less like a suggestion than the other things he had said.

But not by much.

“Maybe,” she said.

He didn’t react. “Morning.”

Celeste almost smiled at that.

Almost