#aonorunic

Byleth carefully didn't roll her eyes at the bargain bin security team. Instead, she made a point of looking reluctantly impressed by all the glitz and glam on display around her. In a hoodie and a knee-length skirt not even her strappy black heels could help her blend in with the guests. Hunching her shoulders in an visible act of self-consciousness, Byleth adjusted the hood of her jacket to cover her messy bun before moving forward into the fray.

Notepad in hand, Byleth slowly worked through the crowd making notes on current fashions, who was speaking to who, and who was very pointedly not talking to who. She reached the other end of the excessively opulent entry hall having filled out a sheet and a half of barely legible scribbles before she found an empty bathroom to clean up in.

Once the door was locked behind her, Byleth pulled the elastic from her messy bun and shook her head to let her pale seafoam hair fall back down over her shoulders. She deftly tucked the notepad and press pass into her jacket pocket along with her hair tie before reaching for the hem of her jacket. It pulled off easily over her head, though it mussed her hair a bit more in the process. She made sure the sleeves weren't inside out and set it neatly on the marble countertop next to the sink.

Lightly biting the inside of her lower lip, Byleth hiked up one side of her black dress so she could reach loose knot she'd made under the fabric earlier that evening. There it was. She undid the knot one handed with the ease of long practice. Straightening, she tugged lightly at the sides of her dress and she did a little shimmy, allowing the bottom half of the ankle length skirt to fall from where she'd hidden it before arriving. The dress was a solid black and the slits on either side of the dress went nearly to her knee. A classic look that wouldn't draw too many eyes.

Dress sorted, Byleth reached for her hoodie and quickly adjusted her makeup to suit the new look. Once that was done, she replaced the tools and pulled out a pair of thin black gloves. Biting her lips and inspecting her reflection, she gave her top one last adjustment to make sure the strap was secure around her neck before draping the jacket over an arm and walking back out into the party like a whole different person.

Passing the jacket to the nearest server was easy, a worried comment about finding it in the bathrooms and it was being taken to the lost and found for easy retrieval later.

The mansion belonged to the gala's host this year - another obvious display of wealth to their constituents and the public alike. It worked both for and against Byleth by providing a veritable banquet of nooks and crannies to hide in. For now it meant a lot of meaningless small-talk as she drifted through the rooms, 'oh'ing and 'ah'ing at the abundance of expensive antiquities the host and their family had purchased over the years as she searched for her target.

None of the other guests Byleth ran into knew her, which was a blessing. The only people that would be able to identify her on sight that lived in this particular region were ones she'd rather avoid.

Thankfully, she wasn't here for the host or his family. As the ones in the brightest spotlight, it would have made her night difficult indeed.

Instead, she was here for one of their close friends, a man who had made more than a few enemies on his own climb to the top. At least one of those took exception to the social climber's preferred method of ruining others’ reputations - usually by setting them up to take the fall for his dirtier schemes - and reached out to Byleth's agency after two years fighting to clear their name both in and out of court.

She found him on the third floor in one of the guest rooms. It looked like the family lent a few of them out to their closest friends so that they wouldn't need to worry about travelling on the day of the party. He was straightening his tie in front of a floor length mirror when she spotted him.

It was always so nice when her targets isolated themselves.

"Oh! I'm terribly sorry." Byleth tipped into the room before catching herself on the door, standing unsteadily in her heels. "I'm afraid I've gotten quite turned around. You wouldn't happen to know where the closest bathroom is, would you?"

She blinked at the man as he looked her up and down, carefully showing no reaction when his eyes lingered in a few telling areas.

"Of course." His smile made her skin crawl and Byleth ruthlessly suppressed a shiver as he made his way over to her. "You can use mine. Right this way, sweetheart."

He guided her in, taking her gloved hand and pulling her away from the bedroom door before shutting it behind them. She giggled like the happy, slightly tipsy debutante she was pretending to be as he led her right into the bathroom, stumbling a little as they went. When he turned to close that door as well, she calmly slipped the garrote she just palmed from her thigh holster around his neck and pulled.

Byleth's face was blank as the man's struggles grew weaker. Strangulation wasn't her usual style, but she had to admit that it was less messy than a knife. Arterial spray was just so hard to anticipate.

Besides, her knife was a little too distinctive to use on jobs these days.

When she was sure that her target wouldn't be getting back up ever again, she maneuvered the body into the shower and turned it on to lukewarm. That done, Byleth left the bathroom, engaging the lock before shutting it behind her. Exiting the bedroom in the same manner, she made her way back down the hall to one of the rooms she already cleared in her search. Double checking that it was still empty, she quietly made use of the fireplace.

Her cotton gloves didn't burn that fast, but it didn't take more than ten minutes for them to be reduced to ash in the large wood-burning fireplace. As they burned, she wondered why a family with this much money wouldn't put in gas fireplaces for their guest rooms. Maybe they were worried that someone would forget to turn it off?

Once the gloves were nothing more than dust, Byleth began to make her way back down to the lower floor. Her contract was complete, there was no reason to stay any longer and she was happy to go. She'd hoped to never return to these flashy shindigs, but the rich were the most likely to contract a hitwoman and as they often targeted one of their own she supposed that was a pipe dream.

She made it all the way to the ground floor, moving slower as the crowds thickened, before she saw him.

The love of her life.

Claude von Riegan.

Her heart jumped for her throat and her stomach fell to her shoes.

He looked sharp in his three piece suit, his striking features standing out even in the sea of beautifully dressed people. It was hard to tell what drew the eye more, his handsome face, the confident baring, or his completely black clothing in a flock of glittering butterflies.

Byleth barely noticed any of that. She was too caught up in comparing him to the Claude of her memories.

His hair was longer and was looked better behaved because of it. A trimmed bit of scruff enhanced his jawline, reminding her of how she used to run her thumb along it when they kissed. Those last few inches put him a head taller than her and she wondered if she would just tuck in under his chin now.

Green eyes found hers and Byleth suddenly remembered that he wasn't the only shadow in this field of flowers.

For a moment, it was like the crowd around them didn't exist. His lips parted, jaw dropping ever so slightly as his eyes widened. Claude's skin paled under his warm tan.

It was like he was seeing a ghost.

Byleth snapped her own mouth shut at the reminder, teeth grinding a little as she swallowed.

Because he was.

Turning sharply, Byleth slipped through the crowds with a little more speed, ducking behind some of the taller guests as she did. Her roundabout plans of going to 'find' her jacket were scrapped. If he was here, there was no telling who else-

"Darling!"

Wrist caught, Byleth swung around to follow the unexpected tug. Her intentional stumble to hide the reach for her thigh holster was anticipated, her free hand caught in a familiar grasp.

Her breath caught in her lungs.

The black silk tie contrasted nicely with the fitted black vest.

"There you are!"

This close, it was clear that the shirt underneath them was actually a dark charcoal instead of black like she first assumed.

"I didn't know you'd be here, my dearest."

She swallowed and tried to force her heart to behave, to slow down, to move out of the way so she could breathe again.

"You should have told me."

Byleth forced herself to look up and meet those green eyes once again.

"Should I have?" Her tone didn't show any of her struggles thankfully, it was just as light as she needed it to be. In high society parties like this, every attendee was always listening intently for any drama they could find. "I thought you wanted me to stay home like mother."

Her very dead mother, at home in her grave.

"Never." Claude's voice was a little too vehement for the crowd. Noticing that, he released her wrist in favor curling an arm around her waist. Only when he was sure she wasn't going to brush him off did he let go of her other hand and begin guiding them out of the larger hall. "Who would even dream of telling you a thing like that?"

His face was calm, his voice now relaxed and almost joking. Claude was always a better actor than she was. However, the fingers at her waist were flexing hard enough that her dress was sure to wrinkle. Even if the others couldn't see it under her elbow, she sure could feel it.

It was just as steadying as she remembered.

She stealed herself against the nostalgia and the part of her brain that was screaming that she should run and never look back, that she should hug him and never let go, that coming to this party was a mistake, was a miracle.

Was fate.

"Oh, you know how grandmother is." Even as old as she was, the woman was still running the Garreg Mach Agency so far as Byleth was aware. "I thought for sure that she'd convinced everyone that she knew best."

"You know I never liked other people thinking for me, why would this be any different?" Claude sounded playfully put out. A glance at his face let her see the tightness around his eyes as he guided them into another hallway, ironically in the same direction as her 'lost' jacket. "If you'd told me I could have swept in and carried you away on my white horse."

His grand statement made another woman further down the hall chuckle and no one looked twice when Byleth chuckled and pulled an unresisting Claude into a side room by his lapels.

"You would have, would you?" She turned him so she could scan the room and then kick the door shut behind them before pressing him up against a wall. One arm slanted across his chest to hold him in place while the other pulled the gun from the shoulder holster Claude always hid under his suit jackets to point it at the underside of his chin. "Or would you have been the one she convinced to kill me instead?"

"Impossible." He replied instantly. "Nothing she could say would ever convince me of that."

Slowly, his unpinned hand came up. Byleth's eyes never wavered from his, but she didn't move to stop him as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. Warm fingers traced down her jawline and it was only as they lifted away that Byleth noticed that her blank expression had melted away in the process.

Taking a deep breath through her nose, she firmed her expression into a glare and clicked the safety off. She hoped that if he really did try to kill her here she could at least attempt to try and return the favor.

She cocked the gun and he didn't even flinch.

He was the best spy she knew. That didn't mean anything.

Claude's eyes were soft as he gazed steadily at her.

The memory of those green eyes looking at her with love and adoration merged with reality. Her heart lurched. She felt ill even imagining the possibility of him dying.

Damn it.

She pulled back and de-cocked the gun, letting that hand fall to her side.

"Say I believe you," Byleth said as though it wasn't obvious that she did. "What are you going to tell her about this?"

There was no way he was here for any other reason than information gathering. Claude despised this sort of gathering five years ago and she couldn't imagine that changing.

"Nothing." Smug in the face of her disbelief, Claude grinned. Relaxing under the arm still pinning him, he shrugged. "I left shortly after you did and headed back home, though I somehow did it on better terms."

Left Garreg Mach? To go home? Wait.

"Did everyone in the Alliance leave?" That was a lot of people. Byleth couldn't imagine Rhea letting that many competent people go, it would be too much of a threat.

"Not everyone and those of us who made it out needed to go further afield than you're probably thinking." Claude admitted. He tilted his head and Byleth could almost see him scratching the back of it. He may have suppressed the habit over the years, but the head tilt was exactly the same.

Light glimmered, the movement allowing one of his earrings to catch the light perfectly.

Byleth's eyes widened, the style of it reminding her of some rumors she heard when she was laying low in those first few years away from Garreg Mach.

"Almyra?"

Claude went tense under her arm for a moment before sighing.

"Never could get one past you, could I?" His rueful smile faded as she waited for an answer. "Yeah, Almyra. I've got family there, you know?"

No. She hadn't known. She suspected, but even as a rookie Claude played things close to the chest. Byleth couldn't fault him for it, they all did the same thing. They had to or they died.

Honest people didn't live long in their line of work.

Subterfuge wasn't a guarantee of safety either.

"Why then?" Why not before when he'd been complaining about the jobs they kept assigning him? When his input on larger jobs was ignored or when the younger members got pushed hard enough that he started picking up some of their work without telling them?

He looked confused at the question.

"Why would I stay if you weren't there?"

Byleth's heart wasn't content with being ignored any longer. It swooped and sped, raced and stopped, jumped and sunk. Her eyes felt wide on her face, but she was too busy trying to breathe to control her expression.

"As soon as I could manage it, I collected everyone who wanted to leave and I gave Rhea a choice." Claude was kind enough to ignore her dumbfounded reaction as he filled her in on what she missed while she was in hiding. "Let us leave or Almyra will bring it's forces to her doorstep. With all of the infighting she was already dealing with from Edelgard's end, it really wasn't a choice at all."

"You're here on their orders then?" At his slow nod, she continued, "Who else is here? Anyone that will tell her?"

Byleth survived the last assassination attempt by pure luck, she didn't think she could do it again.

"Shamir's here with me, but she left Garreg Mach with us. She never did believe what Rhea said about you."

"Shamir?" Finally stepping back, Byleth couldn't help but wonder if they often went to things like this together as she and Claude used to. If she was projecting her own wants onto what he said, imagining the feelings she hoped were returned when in reality he moved on without her.

Wait.

"What did Rhea say about me?"

"She said that your death was necessary, that you betrayed us and everything we stood for, yada yada yada." Making a dismissive gesture, Claude's face clearly showed what he thought of that and it was nothing good. "Trying to justify it all. I don't think even Seteth believed her. He didn't show up to meetings for weeks after."

"He found me." Byleth supplied, holding the gun out to its owner. "They threw me in the river thinking I would die, but I was found the next day and brought to a hospital. He found me there and found a place for me to recover."

Clipping the gun back into place, Claude whistled lowly.

"Seteth? I never would have suspected." He watched her as she turned towards the racks and boxes of lost items on the other side of the room. It was a good thing no one needed in the room earlier in their discussion. Weapons at a gala were always hard to explain away. "Why are you asking me about what happened then? Verifying your sources?"

The teasing tone had her throwing him an exasperated look over her shoulder before digging through the rows for her jacket once more.

"He set up a cash flow and then cut all ties to make sure Rhea couldn't trace him to me."

"So no illicit love affairs?"

Byleth stopped and set the jackets in her hands back on their racks.

Was that... jealousy?

Half-turning towards him Byleth gave him a look.

"None." If he was going to go there, she was allowed to ask as well. Right? "And you?"

"Love affairs? Me?" Claude gestured to his clothes. "Can't you see I'm in mourning?"

Mourning?

"For the whole five years?" He couldn't possibly still be mourning her. Please tell her he wasn't.

"For the rest of my life." He looked serious.

Shaking her head in disbelief, Byleth turned back to the clothing and tried to blink away the tears that sprung to her eyes at his sentimentality.

"You can't just say things like that. What if I actually died? You shouldn't be tied to a dead woman, you should be happ-" He was suddenly beside her at the coat rack. She cut off in surprise when Claude reached out and turned her towards him once more.

"Without you I will never be happy. Alive, sure. Content, if I'm lucky. Happy?" Leaning in, his green eyes searched hers for something. "Never without you."

Clothes dropped from Byleth's hands once again as she reached out, fingertips brushing along his cheekbone before following the line of his jaw like she did so many times before. She felt him shiver under her touch. Eyes trailing to his lips, she then looked up at those green eyes and thought she knew what he was looking for just a moment ago.

Moving her hand to his shoulder for balance, she leaned in.

Claude met her halfway.

They kissed.

They kissed and it was everything she remembered and more.

It felt like they'd never stopped.

Like that five year gap was nothing.

Like it was a lifetime.

Her free hand wound itself into his hair, pulling him down and finding it just as soft as before even as it tangled around her fingers.

His hand slipped down her shoulder to her back, following her spine until it found the old scar hidden just below the open back of her dress that had never felt his touch until now.

It felt like she was finally home.

"Ah! Um, I, er, need to get to the rack- I mean, the coat stand?"

Byleth pulled back, turning her head away from the door. Her fingers slipped from Claude's hair as he chuckled sheepishly at the man bringing in some more lost items.

"Looks like we got a little distracted while trying to find her jacket." Claude caught her eye and, with her back turned to the man in the doorway, she covertly mimed straightening a hood before ending in a symbol they used to use. "Do you think a hoodie would have been hung up or folded?"

"All jackets are hung, sir. I believe the softer jackets are to the left." The voice was unfamiliar, definitely not the one she'd handed the jacket to in the first place then. Good.

With that direction and the additional light from the hall, Byleth quickly located the jacket. Claude wrapped up the small-talk with his usual finesse and they were on their way.

The jacket was deftly folded in on itself with the strings tied together and worn with confidence as a particularly shapeless shoulder bag. While she was dealing with that, Claude messaged someone on his phone one handed. The other was still holding her close as they headed for the entrance.

"Shamir's going to meet us out front with the car, if that works for you?"

"It will for now." Byleth agreed with a small smile.

"For now?" Raising a brow at her growing smile, Claude turned and looked at her with playful suspicion as they pushed through the crowd.

With both of them controlling their reactions so as to not cause a scene, it was probably better to tell him now rather than later.

"There's someone I'd like you to meet and it will require us going to them in the morning." She blinked up at him with a perfectly straight face before turning back to the crowds in front of them. Byleth watched him closely in her peripheral vision as she continued casually, "You could say I'm a lot more like my father than anyone expected."

As if on cue, her fellow awoken steps out of the back with another refill on the seriously depleted pastries that lined their shelves. Finding herself being stared at by both Kira and Falcon-4, Rogue gives them a questioning look before stepping around them to get to the display case.

“Falcon’s going on break, so keep an ear out for me will you?” Kira’s question gets her a thumbs up before the other woman goes back to stocking the shelves.

“Thanks you guys.” Sounding relieved, Falcon-4 steps through the same door Rogue just walked out of, most likely headed for the cramped break room in the back.

“Four to one they’ll be asleep on the couch before you get back.”

No bet, comes the quickly signed response. Rogue gives Kira a flat look from where she’s crouched, tray balanced precariously on her knees.

Kira chuckles, easily reading ‘do you think I’m stupid’ from her friend’s expression alone.

A pointed cough has them both looking up and Kira already has her customer service smile on as she meets the well-dressed, if slightly rumpled, customer’s golden glare.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, what can we do for you?” She’s proud of her quick recovery in the face of that powerful sneer. There’s a moment where he just keeps looking at her and she barely stops herself from sharing a look with Rogue in favor of prompting him again. “Sir?”

He blinks, frown deepening with his brow furrowing sharply. Kira is beginning to resign herself to an uncalled for and unnecessary rant about professionalism from the suited man when he finally speaks.

“Double shot espresso Romano in whatever passes for medium in this place.” The order is sharp, but surprisingly doesn’t have any additional scathing remarks after it.

“Can I get a name for your order?”

“Uldren.” 

Nodding, Kira notates the order on the appropriate cup, wondering why it sounded familiar, before handing it off to Rogue who just set down the empty tray on the back counter.

“Anything else for you?”

“No.” The man is chillier than the ice caps and just as verbose. Kira isn’t sure if she should be thankful for that as she rings up his order. 

“It will be out in just a minute.” Polite smile still intact, if slightly strained, Kira turns to the next customer who’d queued up behind the man. “Hi, what can we do for you?”

She’s tapping in the next order onto the screen while pulling a cup when an annoyed voice drifted over from the other end of the counter.

“I said, ‘excuse me’.” 

Glancing over as between cups, Kira feels her shoulders tensing. One of the men from the previous rush, a man who’d had trouble understanding the concept of ‘first come, first served’, is standing by the machines and trying to talk to Rogue. Rogue who can’t do more than smile apologetically when her hands are full of coffee cups.

“Is this how you treat all of your customers?” 

Oh, no. Kira had thought they were safe from lectures when that Uldren guy reigned himself in, but now there’s this from a man who’d already caused enough trouble today.

A non-committal shake of her head is all Rogue can offer as she finishes up the order in her hands, but that doesn’t placate the man any.

“No? Yes? Speak up!” The man is now leaning over the counter as if that will help any of them. “Can’t even spare a word of acknowledgement for a loyal customer?” 

Loyal customer? Kira can’t remember seeing him in the last year. She glances at the customer at the register who is waffling over the pastry display and humming. They could spare her for a moment, right?

“Sir?” Her call down the counter goes ignored by the man as Rogue puts a lid on the cup. After placing it on the counter next to Uldren with a small smile, she then turns to the man who’s looking no less offended.

Sorry. What do you need? Rogue mouths the words as she works her way through the hand motions, going slow in case the man doesn’t understand sign.

“And now with this hand waving thing.” He makes a dismissive gesture that Kira can see out of the corner of her eye and she feels her expression become fixed. Unaware of the doom that’s fast approaching, the detestable man continues, “I know you wouldn’t get hired if you can’t talk, girl.”

“I’m sorry, if you’ll excuse me for a moment.” Whatever expression Kira’s wearing must speak volumes as her current customer blanches and nods.

Turning sharply, Kira takes in the three at the other end of the counter  as she steps closer. Rogue looks three thousand percent done with the man, the man in question is turning a little purple from impotent rage, and Uldren...

It’s beginning to look like Uldren might have a case of resting bitch face because Kira had thought he looked angry before, but right now he’s looking about as mad as she feels. Thankfully, it looks like he’s willing to let her take care of it for now, which is honestly really nice of him. 

Because right now, she wants nothing more than to tear into this ableist piece of shit.

“Sir, Guardian Grounds prides itself on being a diverse and inclusive community as well as safe environment for all of our customers and employees.” Kira’s smile could probably be called many things right now, but polite wasn’t one of them. Sharp, sure; toothy, of course; terrifying, she sure hoped so, but polite? This man didn’t deserve polite at the moment. 

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything, but it’s clear to me that you don’t pride yourselves on a little thing called ‘customer service’!” He punctuated the last two words by banging his empty cup against the machine in front of him.

Her smile drops off her face.

Perhaps he never deserves ‘polite’ with an attitude like this.

There is a sharp hiss from behind her as Rogue reacts to the abuse of their coffee makers and a sharp ‘tsk’ from a disgusted looking Uldren sounds from the other side of the man.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Kira stares at the man, unblinkingly as he turns a shocking shade of puce.

“You can’t do that!” He waves the cup around. “I’m a paying customer!”

“I can, and I will.” She might not be the manager or even a lead, but there was no way Sunshine will fault her for it. “Please leave.”

“Absolutely not! I came up here to ask for a refill only to be ignored and then asked to leave! I haven’t done anything wrong!” The hand holding the empty cup clangs down on the machinery again.

Kira’s hand shots out to stop Rogue’s slow advance, tray drooping in her grasp as she seethes silently. For a moment Kira imagines this happening while Falcon is there to see it and the thought summons the sharp-edged smile back to her face.

“Sir,” if the level of respect in the word could be measured it would rate somewhere deep in the negatives, “You are demanding refills when we don’t offer any, insulting our employees and company, bothering the other customers with this disturbance, and have abused our equipment multiple times now.”

“What?!” For some unfathomable reason the man tries to look baffled even as he let his hand hit the machine again.

“Please leave before I have to call the authorities, sir.” Sarcasm drips from the word even as Kira throws it over her shoulder, slightly preoccupied holding Rogue back as the other woman hisses angrily through clenched teeth.

“I’d like to see you try! I’m sure the cops will have something to say about you people taking money without providing a service!” He sneers nastily and shows the inside of his cup which looks to be unstained at first glance.

“They wouldn’t have to try,” came the chilling retort. It had the asshole blinking at Uldren in confusion even as the perpetually angry-looking man reached in to his coat with one hand to pull out a badge, flipping it open to show his CRO credentials. “Not only were you drinking your ordered beverage happily when you made me step over your bag to get in, but you were boasting about this little ‘scheme’ to your buddy, saying you could get a free drink easily.”

A member of the Crown Recon Operatives? Kira stumbles a little as Rogue stops struggling against her hold. She knows, without looking, that both of them have positively gleeful looks on their faces.

“As this would be the one of the stupidest reasons I’ve had to take anyone into custody and I dislike paperwork, I suggest the two of you leave as they have asked.” Not bothering to hide his sneer, Uldren pointedly looks at the door before taking a sip of his coffee.

Asshole number one, as now Kira knows there’s a second one out by the tables, gulps before giving a sharp nod.

“Of course, officer.” The title is bordering on disrespectful and Uldren must pick up on it as easily as Kira does.

“That’s Captain to you.”

Captain? As in Captain Sov? The Queen’s brother?

Asshole one and two are now visible because they both blanched.

“C-captain.” A little shaky, but much more respectful, the man nodded to Captain Sov before scampering back to collect his friend and his things, quick to obey one of the most dangerous men in the system.

Once they’re nothing but rapidly retreating shadows, both of the employees turn to Captain Sov.

“Thanks for the assist, captain.” Kira nods to him, still feeling tense even after the confrontation.

Thank you! Next round’s on us! Signs Rogue.

The you’re welcome sign is nearly lost in Captain Sov’s show of straightening his coat.

“I hate people like him,” he says instead, expression reverting to a more moderate annoyance which Kira almost sure is his default now. “People who think they can get whatever they want with a show of force.”

“Yeah, me too.” Kira agrees darkly, glaring out after them before offering Captain Sov a smile. “Let us know if we can get you anything else, captain.”

Without waiting for more than a nod of acknowledgement, Kira checks on Rogue with a glance before moving back to her post as her coworker starts making the next drinks.

They work their ways through the orders, a few of the customers who saw the freeloading assholes even expressing their sympathy with generous tips. Captain Sov stands quietly by the cork board at the other end of the counter as he sips his way through his coffee and Kira finds herself wondering about him as she rings up another customer.

He could have easily remained incognito the whole time, so why speak up? Why was he even here in the first place? Sure there was a small CRO branch office in town, but she didn’t think it was close.

Taking another glance as she passes another filled out up to Rogue, Kira’s breath catches just a little as she finds herself caught by that golden glare once more. 

The moment stretches until she blinks. 

He’s frowning again; then crumpling his cup before disposing of it on his way out the door.

Twenty minutes later, the cafe’s crowd has rotated out completely, the captain is long gone, and Kira finds herself wondering if he’ll ever want to come back after that wonderful first impression. Falcon-4 steps into the front just in time to hear her sigh.

“Why is Kira sighing like she’s waiting for her SO to come back from the war?” Their question earns them a glare and a fit of silent laughter.

Kira and Captain Sov, sitting in a tree, K-I- the rest of the childish rhyme is lost as Kira starts after Rogue who scampers into the back with her tray.

“Captain Sov?! What the hell did I miss?”

Stopping short of the door, Kira looks up at the ceiling and wonders how long she has before the rest of her coworkers ‘know’ about her ‘crush’. She doubts her ‘secret’ will even last the rest of her shift.

“Yep.” The woman at the counter, the one speaking at least, seems to be enjoying herself. Niarli feels her own confusion on her face and tries to smooth her furrowed brow into something more professional. It’s hard though. She’s heard horror stories from her friends and online about people who ask to ‘see the manager’ and how it doesn’t always work out well for the employees.

Did she do something wrong? If the order was wrong, shouldn’t she have come up sooner? She could have sworn she saw the woman throw out her cup before walking back up to the counter and it hadn’t looked heavy enough to be anything but empty.

Besides, wouldn’t she be angrier if it was wrong?

Unless...

Feeling a little light-headed, Niarli feels her stomach drop as if the floor just fell out beneath her.

What if she enjoys getting employees yelled at? What if catching someone on the wrong foot is something this woman lives for? What if that was the plan after all and she’s throwing away the evidence that they did the order correctly so that she can say something is wrong? How would they prove it otherwise?

Breath coming short and quick, Niarli looks away from the now frowning woman to see if her trainer is free (they’re not, of course they aren’t, why would life be that simple) and back. The woman says something else, but she can’t hear it over the ringing in her ears and the stream of worries from her brain.

A hand waves hesitantly from one side and Niarli almost flinches. The hand freezes.

Distantly she hears something tapping, but it takes Vudril’s calming voice to finally draw her back.

“...s fine, little wing. You’re doing great. They aren’t here to get us in trouble.” They smile as she focuses on them fully, but their eyes still look concerned. “Back with us, Niarli?”

Taking a deep, if shaky, breath, Niarli nods and tries not to think about the fact that she nearly had a panic attack on her first day. If she thinks about it, she will have to remove the ‘nearly’ from the sentence. 

“Glad to hear it. Do you want to take your break?” Vudril’s the best trainer ever. She hesitates and then nods again. “Go on and take a seat at the corner booth then, alright? I’ll bring you something to drink after I finish up here.”

Niarli turns to leave, catching sight of the customer and their friend who are still at the counter as she does. Their concern makes her pause.

Sorry, the friend signs over and over while mouthing the same word, obviously unsure if Niarli can understand.

“I’m so so sorry,” comes a concerned whisper from the customer. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I’m sorry. I should have- sorry.”

The contrite looking woman presses her lips together as if to stop herself from babbling more apologies. Unable to do more than nod an acknowledgement, Niarli makes her way to the booth Vudril pointed at and takes a seat, happy that the other customers didn’t seem to notice her problem.

“Vudril, I’m sorry about this. I can go if that’s better. Is that better? It might be for the best.” The woman seems to have done a one-eighty as she flusters at the counter. 

Maybe it wasn’t as bad as she thought?

“I’ll probably be calling him down to watch the counter for a little while anyway.” They reply with a tired smile. 

You’ll probably make them both feel better if you see him the friend signs.

“I guess it can’t hurt to stay for a little while longer, if you both think it will help,” the woman allows before turning back to Vudril. “But let me know if you need me to clear out. I know how hard it can be.”

They nod before heading to the back, leaving the front unmanned for the moment.

Niarli peeks over at the two at the counter a few more times and is honestly relieved when they don’t look in her direction. She’s almost back to normal when the door to the back swings back open. 

Uldren Sov, the owner of the shop and the one she’d interviewed with, steps out with a frown already on his face. It barely registers that Vudril follows him out.

“I should have known.” Glaring at the woman, Mr. Sov crosses his arms.

“Uldren...” the woman starts before sighing, resignedly. “Yeah, okay. I deserve it. Go ahead.”

The friend leans on the counter, a contrite look on her face and apparently just as willing to face the music.

Mr. Sov narrows his eyes further and Niarli gulps as he almost looks at her before Vudril blocks the view, holding out a bottle of water.

“Hey, little wing. Think you could help me finish these left over pastries from this morning?” They smile and hold out an assortment of only slightly stale sweets. Niarli blinks at them for a moment. Shaking the plate lightly, Vudril’s voice takes on a sing-song quality. “I made them myself.”

“Uh, sure.” It’s hard to choose, but Niarli eventually settles on two of the moderately sweet baked goods. Vudril seems delighted and they hum happily as they slide into the other side of the booth.

“...en again, am I clear?” Mr. Sov’s voice can barely be heard above the mix of murmurs from the other customers and music from the speakers. His shoulders are tense as if holding himself back from making a scene, but his words are icy even as he wraps up something that sounds like quite a grilling.

“Crystal.” The woman who asked for him nods seriously as does her friend.

Mr. Sov glares a moment longer before pulling back from where he was leaning over the counter slightly.

“Now, what did you want?”

“I just wanted to tell you that your new employee-” Niarli tenses at the woman’s words, expecting the worst “-is doing a great job!”

What?

A pastry drops from her hand back on to the napkin in front of her as Vudril nods knowingly, but Niarli can’t look away from the woman.

“They were so kind even when I confused them with my order and they were very clear about potential allergens. So I thought I’d make sure you knew how much we appreciated it.” She smiles a bit self-deprecatingly. “Sorry for all the trouble we caused. I should have phrased it better.”

“Yes, you should have.” The reprimand is sharp, but lacking a little of the icy chill it had previously. “I’ll be sure to let her know how appreciative all the customer are and make a note to warn all of my employees about you going forward.”

Warn us about them? (Maybe just her?) Did this happen often?

Hearing a sigh from the other side of the table, Niarli attempts to bring her eyebrows back from where they’d migrated to the top of her head in surprise and look over at a tired looking Vudril. They’re shaking their head with a rueful look in their face.

“One step forward, two steps back it seems.” They take a large bite out of their own pastry while exchanging a look with the friend who is also shaking her head.

“What?” Niarli is feeling at least as tired as they look, but she’s so lost, she can’t help but ask.

“Those two have been dancing around each other for months.” Waving the half-eaten pastry at the counter where the two are talking stiltedly while the woman’s friend watches with an almost bored look, Vudril rolls their eyes. “She keeps calling him down once or twice a week to complement us and he even though he hates being interrupted he’s too proud of all us employees to tell her to stop. You’d think he’d be happy if she misses a week, but no. He just got testy when she was out of town last month.

“Sorry you got stuck in the middle of that. If I’d seen her coming I could have warned you.” They do look apologetic.

Niarli isn’t sure if she’s really okay right now, but it’s good to know that none of her fears were true and that everyone else at the store has her back.