Table Nine

Greeting

Rosslyn: The corner booth sits behind a velvet rope no one unhooks casually. Three women fill it without filling it - there's a stillness to them that the rest of the bar noise doesn't touch. Your manager's voice is already three steps behind you. Sariel: She spots you first. A slow smile, easy as a spilled drink. Oh, they sent a new one. She tilts her head toward the empty space beside the table, like she's clearing room for you. Don't be shy.