I displayed the cup onto the counter with a flourish. "One cup of apple beer, coming right up!" I poured the beer mixed in the apple juice, and swirled the cup around to mix it up. The liquid was close to sloshing out of the cup, but hey, I was a professional. Not a single drop fell out (this was a lie, a few drops did; but still, most of it stayed in!)

My usual party trick followed, and I pretended as though slamming the spoon did not just happen to cut right into the bandaged slash on my hand. I winced, but nobody noticed a thing.

Heh. I was a professional.

Lindent walked in and slinked to his corner, and I resisted the almost automatic¹How can she know what is automatic if they don't have automatons in this world yet, you ask? Well, don't ask. urge to roll my eyes. Once I finished up Uncle's drink and placed it in front of him, I slid over to him and gave him the most obviously forced smile ever. "Hi there, Lindent," I said, my teeth gritted. "Thanks for that warm welcome yesterday. Really appreciated it."

Since that last time he'd given me those suspicious glares and shrugged me off, I had kept returning back to his attitude. The more I'd thought about it, the angrier I had become. I mean, yo! What did I do? Was he so mad that I bumped into him? Someone with the ability to be as fast as he could be should move out the way, then! I hadn't done a single thing wrong and he was all suspicious and wary of me.

That was just too unfair.

He nodded at me, leaning back, and I actually rolled my eyes. I put my hands on my hips. "Care to tell me why you were so, I don't know, disgruntled when you met me yesterday?"

I mentally patted myself on the back because yes, disgruntled was such a nice word to use for him. 

Lindent gave me a once-over (which was angering in itself), then opened his mouth. "Nonalcoholic cocktail."

I sputtered. Did he, did he just, did he just ignore me completely and order his drink at the same time? Who did that? Boiling anger surged up inside of me, which rose up and escaped as an incredulous "Ha!" from my mouth. "Ha! I see how it is. I see. I see."

He didn't respond, only watching me under his infuriating newsboy cap pressed onto his head like always. I ran a hand through my hair and turned around to take one deep breath. When I whirled back around, my hands were folded in front of me, a forced smile was back on my face, and in my most polite voice, I said, "I'm sorry, dear customer, but it appears that we have run out of nonalcoholic cocktail. In fact, it appears that we have run out of all nonalcoholic drinks as well as cocktail drinks altogether. You'll have to order an apple beer today, I'm afraid. Would you like for me to get you one?"

I waited, stock still. Lindent seemed uncomfortable, like he was trying not to sneeze-- but then again, when did I ever read his emotions correctly? He managed to shake his head.

"Too bad, our apple beer is simply magnificent, sir valuable customer," I said, practically spitting out the last words. I bobbed my head at him in a mock bow, then walked back calmly.

"Girl, gimme one o' yer appo beers," someone slurred.

My smile still on my face, I nodded. "Certainly." Without so much as a glance in the direction of the black-haired government official who I was very much being professional to, I took out a tall glass beer mug, poured the beer, put in the apple juice, swirled it, then took out my spoon. 

I gripped the spoon as hard as I could before raising it up high, still smiling. Then, in a motion so fast that it sort of surprised me myself, I slammed it down into the cup.

The resulting crack resounded through the bar, even louder than the usual bustling crowd. A few drunk people raised their heads, confused, and more people glanced over my way.

The smile on my face remained peaceful.  "Your drink is ready," I said pleasantly. I lifted the mug up by the handle, and the thick glass bottom of the cup gave out into shattered pieces. The drinkers closest to me gasped, drawing back, and the entire section of the bar fell as close to silent as I'd ever heard it get.

I stood there with the liquid gushing out of the cup until the entire mugful was dripping on the bar counter. "I'm sorry," I said in my pleasant, loud voice. "Looks like your drink is not ready. I apologize for the inconvenience."

"What the.." someone said, voice full of horror.

I turned my body around, mug in my hand, and caught sight of Lindent, who had a hand over his mouth and his head pulled down. I detected the slight shaking of his shoulders, and I saw red.

I slammed the cup down on the bar counter, and a bunch of people whimpered. I barely heard them as I glared at him, which he noticed and seemed to laugh even more about.

If I had not been in the middle of work, I must confess that I definitely would have thrown this glass mug in my hand at his face. Too bad. Tamping down my murderous urge, I grit my teeth and forced myself to walk to the kitchen. 

"Cook, I broke a mug," I announced, my hand still clenched around the handle.

"What?" he barked, in the middle of sauteing something. He frowned when he saw the cup. "...throw it away."

"Yes, sir," I said in a half-growl. I threw it away, took a few more deep breaths, and brought out a new cup and some rags. I wiped away all the beer as the people nearest to me eyed me warily. Whenever I happened to glance at them, they would flinch.

Well. That wasn't that bad, actually.

I poured the original customer his apple beer, though he didn't look so drunk anymore (rather scared, I would say). I resolutely did not look over to where Lindent was in case I felt the need to break another cup. I finished a couple of other orders, said in the most polite tones I'd ever heard the villagers use, then finally turned back to him for his order.

I placed the forced smile back on my face. "Your order, sir?"

For his part, Lindent looked serious, but I kept feeling as if he didn't feel serious, which infuriated me even more. "Nonalcoholic cocktail," he said, and his lips seemed to twitch at my expression.

My smile dropped in an instant. "Still not going to apologize?"

He put on what I assumed was an expression of deep thinking, even placing a hand on his chin.

I waited.

After  while, he looked up with a brighter glint in his eyes, his lips turned the tiniest bit upward. And, with the most cheer I'd ever seen him with, he shook his head. Gleefully. Nope.

"Kill me now," I muttered, my eyes heavenward. I rubbed my face with one hand as I sighed, turning away. He appeared a bit confused, but I ignored him and brought out a new cup to pour him his nonalcoholic cocktail. I shoved the cup at him, eyes narrowed. "Be glad you're a customer today," I grumbled.

Lindent immediately put on a mock-serious expression and nodded, taking the cup from me. "Thank you."

I heaved another sigh and went back to work. Ugh, if only I could punch him, like, once. Really hard. Uppercut into his stomach, maybe. A tiny grin appeared on my lips. That would be nice.

Before I could let myself imagine more violent scenarios, though, the door creaked open and a familiar face peeked in. I frowned. Now where had I seen him before?

"Is a person by the name of Filly here?" the man said, clearly tired.

I raised my hand. "That would be me," I answered cheerfully, back into Customer Service mode. I gestured towards an open bar seat. "Would you like to have a seat?"

"No, I just have," he sighed here, "a message for you."

I tilted my head. "Um, sure, but you can sit down while you say it to me."

"No need, I just need to say it." He cleared his throat. I stifled some laughter because, ha, I could practically read his expression like an open book (not that I could read... just saying): what a pain, he seemed to be thinking.

"Go on ahead, then," I said, highly amused now. Lindent? What about him? He was out of my thoughts now.

The guy cleared his throat again. Then, in the most monotonous voice ever, he intoned, "Filly! This is Rosa. I forgot to tell you this last time because we were busy arguing about the right age to have your first kiss--"

"That was so not necessary," I murmured to myself, feeling my neck turning red.

"--but I have a favor I want to ask from you. And no, you can't say no." Which, actually, would make that an order, not a favor, so thanks a lot Rosa. "You need to go to the city hall next Tuesday. It's for the sake of, you know, preventing death. I already asked Cook to reschedule you for next week, so don't fret. Besides, I know you have nothing better to do these days during your free time. So sad, always so alone."

A few of the customers glanced at me, and my face burned even more. "Well, thanks for exposing me, Ro," I hissed, and I hurried out from behind the bar.

"Anyway, once you get to the city hall, and I'll send you the carriage maybe, I don't know, depends on my mood and whether Becca agrees to put off dating--" I clamped a hand over the man's mouth, and I finally registered who it was.

"You're Rosa's footman!" I cried.

He gave me a look that said, quite clearly, you only noticed that now?

I ushered him away. "Um, I think I need to hear this privately," I said, embarrassment coloring my voice. "Here, why don't you finish up your message with me right... over... there."

Now much more removed from the crowd of eavesdroppers, I let go of him.

The footman sighed. "--and how much you have to do with that. Haha, just kidding. I'll send you the carriage. And this is super important: you must take mother's handkerchief, the one with the sunflowers on it. I'll give you more instructions through my footman once you get there. And remember, death!!"

...if it wasn't so weird, I'd be laughing at how bored the footman sounded. "Did, did Rosa force you to memorize that all?"

He nodded, his head drooping forward a little. 

"Oh." I patted him hesitantly on the shoulder. "My, uh, my condolences."

"Do you have a response?"

I scratched my cheek. "Like a message to send back to Rosa?" He nodded, and I flashed a grin at him. "Oh, I have a really simple message for you to take. Kindly go to her and tell her, in your loudest voice, 'I hate you.' That will do."

He nodded then went out the way, and I watched him go, trying to ignore the stares that were stabbing me on my back. "Wow," I said to myself, in a light, airy voice. "I really don't want to go back there."

I was too busy trying not to care too much about the curious customers that I forgot how Lindent had, very obviously, started at the mention of death in Rosa's message, and how he seemed to now be deep in thought.