"Yo! Somethin' heavy."

She presses her hands flat on the counter and leans forward. The crowd is thin this early on a weekday night and the room feels quiet and empty. That'll change. There'll be music soon and the people will trickle out of their jobs and into the bar. People with money are always desperate to have less.

As it is, the air’s pretty clean and the only smoke is residue from the furniture. The room looks small and sallow under light from the hanging lamps. The counters don’t shine as brightly and dust motes float slowly down to the ground. It’s home to her; home with no need for soft mattresses and downy pillows.

The bartender returns and slides her a mug. The glass is thick and the drink within crawls at the walls when she sloshes it. Definitely heavy. "An' which chick’s money are we drinkin’ on tonight?"

She grins slyly and spider sprawls her fingers over the brim of her mug. "Can't help bein' hot, y'know. If a girl wants t’take me home, s'her business."

"An if somethin' expensive goes missin'?"

"What, y'think they notice?"

"Better save a little play for someone else or they're gonna catch on."

She laughs and raises her mug for a casual toast. "An' when the girls stop thinkin' I'm worth it, I'll gladly back off and leave 'em to you wankers."

The bartender smirks and shakes his head. Wasn’t his business where the money came from, so long as it came. "Suit yourself. More of the usual?"

"And less of the lecturing? Damn straight."

“Am I late?”

He waits on a bench in front of the café with a paperback open and unattended in his lap. He leans his elbow on the arm of the bench and watches one of the outdoor patrons without subtlety. A young woman and her beau sharing a milk tea and talking about something Taya can’t overhear.

Not the most interesting subject of people watching. She opens her mouth to tease him about this when the couple rises from their table in heated argument. The woman, hands balled up, flings a napkin across the table to hit her beau in the face. Said beau catches it and shouts back while the woman storms away into the street.

Those poor people. Taya starts to wonder what happened when Flint-aka-Amazing-Phantasm turns around to face her and smiles. And it’s not a goofy name. “Not at all. I’m in the habit of being early.”

“I was planning to be early, too, so I asked my roommate for directions and then I didn’t have paper to write them on so I had to use my hand and the 17th blurred into a 19th and I was following that one until I realized I got it wrong and...”

Her rambling stumbles to a halt when he laughs at her. She blinks, then reddens. “Sorry,” she mumbles.

“No, don’t be. I like listening to you talk.” He slips a bookmark between the pages and folds the book shut without looking away from her.

“Oh. Um. Thank you?”

“I did mean it to be a compliment, yes. Are you ready?” He stands and takes her hand before she can reply. The feel of his fingers on hers makes Taya’s blush darken.