"Okay, I know this is going to sound kinda self-centered, but hear me out."

At my whisper, Idel leaned forward slightly, interest sparkling in her eyes.

 "Is it," I swallowed, "is it just me, or is Lindent, like, staring at me today?"

 "Isn’t he always?" She glanced over at where he sat, at the opposite end of the bar. "He doesn’t talk much."

"He doesn’t, but, I don’t know, he's really staring today! I think!" I hissed. When Idel lifted one eyebrow at me skeptically, I deflated a little. "Or maybe I'm being really delusional." After talking to Rosa this morning (and, of course, obtaining my newest favorite thing ever), I'd come home and taken a one-hour nap before I came down for my night shift. It was now 11 PM, and it wouldn't be weird if I was being extra sensitive from my tiredness.

However, I couldn't ignore that my customer service nerves were also tingling, and they had never failed me, even when I’d been overworked much, much more before. Then again... my senses might be growing old...? I was sixteen now, after all.

While I was wallowing in both frustration and a mournful sense of aging (what happened to all that energy I had when I was young??), Idel hummed. "If he's staring at you so much, maybe...."

"Maybe?"

"Maybe it's because he likes you," she said, her face pinking prettily. 

"Yeah, and maybe we can stop pretending like all strange interactions that happen between two people must by principle have to do with romance," I deadpanned, then shook my head.¹she's right... she is right, but...!! "Idel! I'm being serious right now."

Idel chuckled. "You could go ask him."

"But what would I say?"

She shrugged, sipping her cup of alcohol leisurely. (Which, by the way, never failed to amuse me. Despite looking all calm and collected-- or maybe as expected of someone who still looked all calm and collected-- that was her third cup of our strongest whiskey she had in her hands, and not a single outward sign to show it. She could hold her drink real well, that one.) "Ask him if he has anything to say to you. That you’ve noticed he seems to be staring a lot more than usual today."

"That smart," I sighed. "Yeah, I probably should. When in doubt, ask, am I right?"

"You are right," she agreed, and I squared my shoulders back painfully. (And by painfully, I meant painfully-- my shoulders still hurt from yesterday's horrible labor.)

I took a deep, deep breath, held it for a second. Squeaking out a small, "Wish me luck," as she waved me away, I began marching over.

As I walked that short distance across the bar, I didn't look up just in case Lindent was still staring at me over his nonalcoholic cocktail. Knowing me, I'd probably take one look at him and turn right back, and we couldn't have that now, could we?

I grabbed a cup to dry (it was already dry, but hey, I'm the bartender here so I get to decide if it's dry enough) as I passed the sink area, then scrubbed at it furiously as I approached him where he sat.

I got this. I got this. I got this.

"Lindent!" I cried in the fakest, cheeriest, most customer service voice I had ever heard coming from my lips. What! But it was too late: the words were tumbling out of me before I knew it. "My good friend! How ya doin' on this fine night!"

Oh no, Filian, what are you doing! I screamed on the inside as Lindent blinked at me under his newsboy cap, mid-sip into his drink.

"Ooh, need any more of that?" I heard myself continue, nodding to his cup. "Your cup's looking kinda empty."

Lindent put it down on the counter and peered at it. The cup was three-fourth's full. He must have taken barely three sips into that thing.

"Or not!" I added cheerfully.

Three seconds of silence lapsed between us.

I took a deep breath. "Well, if you need anything--" I mentally slapped myself in the face. No! No! What in the world was I doing!! My grip on the cup tightened, and so did my perfectly formed customer service smile. "Actually--"

"Uh--"

I stopped, blinking at him. Whoa, Lindent initiating conversation! Not something you saw everyday. My curiosity won over any nerves that remained. "Oh? What's up?"

He opened his mouth, but closed it again, looking sort of pained, like he had some kind of... conflict?

Ohhhh. I got it now. Lindent had been staring at me all night because he wanted some advice. He'd needed a confidante, like he'd been to me! A bright smile surfaced on my face, one that was much more genuine than the one I'd been faking in front of him until now. After all that he'd done for me, listening to all my worries, this was the least I could do. Putting the useless cup down, I scooted a little closer to him. "What, what is it?" (And if my eyes were downright glittering in curiosity, it was for sure not because I was a fan of gossip. No. Definitely not.)

Lindent cleared his throat, leaning away from me slightly.

Right. Personal space. I took a small step back myself. "Don't worry, Lindent," I promised, "you can tell me anything." I paused. "Unless it's something I shouldn't know. Or anything that'll get me killed. Uh, you should... probably keep that to yourself."

Recoiling a bit, he shook his head vigorously, and I sighed in relief. Lindent was usually not very expressive-- though that was relative, since the more I got to know him, the more I could detect his subtler expressions-- so any sort of strong emotion from him felt extra big to me, which was why his extra hard stare all night had felt even more bewildering and almost scary.

"That's good! And take all the time you need-- you have 'til the end of my shift today," I joked, glancing at the clock, "so that's a couple of hours."

While he gathered up his courage (I think? Or maybe he was just grumbling about me in his head for being too nosy. How could I know? I only said I could detect his subtler expressions, not that I could read them yet), I secretly turned to Idel and gave her a small, affirmative nod, and she raised her cup up in acknowledgement. When I turned back, Lindent was setting down his cocktail and seemed much more determined.

After a couple breaths, Lindent looked up, pushing up his newsboy cap a little higher to meet my eyes more clearly. I nodded at him as encouragingly as possible, and he swallowed before he opened his mouth. "Yesterday."

"Yeah?" Had something happened to him yesterday?

"Did you... go somewhere?"

"Oh yeah," I answered, my mind racing in the split second pause I had before any later response would become completely unnatural. "I did, actually. How'd you know?"

This time it was Lindent who blinked at me.

I leaned back and gave him an easy shrug. "Not sure how you found out, but yesterday I went to some noble's house to help out a friend of a friend of a friend-- someone's cousin's sister or something. I'm probably getting that wrong, haha. I stood in for them as a temp help at this random noble's ball yesterday. My gosh, did you know nobles hold balls, like, all night?" I shuddered exaggeratedly. "Ugh, never doing that again. I have so much respect for all the folks that work in noble's houses. Oh, but was that what you were talking about?"

He shook his head robotically.

"Ack, never mind then," I laughed. "Why'd you ask, though?"

Lindent gestured at the restaurant, kind of feebly, I thought. "You weren't here," he explained. Even his voice sounded a little confused, though I could be reading that wrong.

"Oh, you came yesterday? Did you have something to tell me?"

Lindent shook his head again, lowering his face towards the cup. The cap of his hat hid his expression from me.

"When we have time, I'll definitely tell you how horrible it was working at the ball," I said, leaning in conspiratorially. "But be right back, gotta do my job." I jerked my head towards Uncle, who was glaring at me from across the counter. He nodded, and I sailed away towards the storage in the back to get a new pitcher of beer.

Once I was alone, the sounds of the kitchen came whooshing back past the loud beats of my own heart in my ears.

Had I seemed overly talkative? Or too brazen? I hoped not. Liars knew liars best-- and the only way not to be seen through by another liar was to do everything opposite of what liars usually did. It was a good thing I'd already thought out a response for if anyone asked me what I'd done yesterday: as the best lies had the most truth in it, I'd planned on telling them the truth, except for the Rosa part. So in a way, everything I'd said was true; I'd just omitted a couple things.

The only lie was in my calm, pretending like I had nothing to hide, nothing to be scared of. But I had been scared, and Lindent had thrown me off completely-- though not because of his question.

Customer service smile back in-- nothing too sunny, as liars also knew how liars tended to force extra cheer to cover up their nerves-- I grabbed two pitchers of beer and whirled back towards the counter. "Uncle, need a refill?"

Liars knew liars best. And as a liar, I knew from the moment Lindent asked that question that he was hiding something.

"Here ya go! How 'bout some apple in there too? Not today?"

He'd said the ball was not what he'd been talking about. That had been a lie-- his immediate reaction to my question had been stiff and nervous, almost. He'd said he only asked because I wasn't here yesterday. That must have also been a lie, because why would he have been staring at me so intently all day today if that was all he was asking about?

"More whiskey, Idel?"

It seemed like I needed to be aware of Lindent a little more. He was a government official, after all. I had to stop forgetting that. Though I'd been planning on freely telling anyone who asked, I hadn't actually told anyone yet. Nobody should've known I was at the ball as temp help except Rosa and my mom, and neither would've told anyone else.

The more I thought about it, the weirder it got.

How had Lindent known I'd been at the ball?

---

A/N: Dun dun dun!! Get out your popcorn, folks! B)