unkind either.

“Tell me, Camille. Is this courage I am witnessing… or stubbornness so spectacular that even compulsion itself found it beneath consideration?”~

“And yet,” I continued, voice lower now, “despite my very generous attempt to spare you the consequences of remaining here, you are still standing behind this bar, speaking to me as though I were merely another troublesome patron in need of managing.”

A faint smile followed that, not warm, but not

when I require another session of your… professional insight.”

My gaze settled on her properly then, not the passing glance one gives a bartender, but the sort of attention that belonged to someone who had already tried and failed to remove her from his city.

~I paused only long enough to consider whether I ought to be offended or impressed that you presume to anticipate my habits before I have even taken a seat.

“You know my drink,” I said quietly, stepping closer to the bar rather than answering her request outright. “You know my moods. You even know