The place was fairly busy, overlapping conversations bouncing off brick walls making it seem more crowded than it was. Patrons appeared to mostly be soldiers in and out of uniform, laughing loudly at scattered tables over thick glasses of sloshing drink. A few old men slumped on the fringes seemed to have been there all morning.
They made their way to the bar in the back without anyone in particular taking notice. Spirits in glittering glass bottles lined the back wall. The barkeep, a tall, olive-toned, and relatively young man with white hair, approached and seemed stunned when he noticed who she was.
“We’d prefer you didn’t draw attention to the Qorrea’s presence,” Nova said before he could start stumbling over decorum.
He nodded silently, his eyes darting around over their heads as if worried he’d given her away already.
“A beer,” Yemi said brightly.
The barkeep hesitated. Nova raised an amused eyebrow.
“Age-old question,” she cooed. “Do you serve your Qorrea, or do you refuse to serve her because everything back there is unfit?”
The barkeep looked for a moment as if hoping someone would solve the riddle for him, before turning around to get a glass.
“Sandwichis how we saybeernow?” Nova chided quietly.
“I’m sure it is in some language.” Yemi shrugged.
Nova leaned against the bar, sure to face outward so she didn’t lose sight of the action. She deftly caressed the back of Yemi’s arm in a way that made her tingle.
“You know, I’m sure I’d enjoy this recklessness of yours more if I wasn’t working,” she whispered, leaning in close and smelling of sea and sandalwood.
Yemi met her eyes and recognized the mischief in them. She winked, silently relishing in all the things Nova meant.
The barkeep returned with a mug of something golden and frothy. Nova slid a couple of gold pieces across the bar.
Yemi hiked a leg up to sit on a stool, met with Nova’s disapproving head shake.
“Not there. You don’t want to make this a thing—you sit in the corner.”
“You’re very good at your job,” Yemi replied, obliging her.
“Why does that feel like an insult?”
They took seats at a small round table near a corner of the bar, Yemi forced through Nova’s glare into facing the wall while Nova herself watched the busy room over her shoulder. The beer was only mildly enjoyable. It was bitter and bubbly, smelled a bit like apple and orange rinds, but went down like damp sawdust. Yemi didn’t imagine anyone drank it for the taste.
“You haven’t told me yet about lunch,” said Nova.
Yemi flashed back to Dahlia’s gaze from the car. Her desire for “connection.”
“Nothing to report.” Yemi shrugged. “Packard was sloshed by the time I got there.”
“Not surprising.”
“He and Ambler arrivedandleft together.”
“Only slightly more surprising.”
“Matters of industry were discussed. The Drakes… There was an interesting line of questioning about the monarchy. Whether I would personally approve dissolving it.”
A light flicked on behind Nova’s eyes, and a frown crossed her lips. “And why would they ask that?”
“I don’t know. It felt pointed, though, if I’m honest.”
“And you said?”
“That it was essentially a ridiculous question.”
