The thing about Aiden Vale was that he never looked at her for too long.
Just enough.
Long enough for her to notice it, and then he'd look away again like he'd already taken whatever information he needed.
The annoying part , the part Ivy wasn't interested in examining too closely — was that somehow it felt more significant than being looked at by anyone else.
She needed a hobby.
Something that wasn't this.
"Table six," Mira said at her elbow.
Ivy went to table six.
---
The guest at table six was maybe thirty-five, expensive suit, carrying himself with the particular looseness of a man two drinks past professional.
He looked up when she set down the fresh glass and smiled.
Probably a smile that worked often.
"You're new," he said.
"Relatively."
She stepped back.
"I haven't seen you here before." He tilted his head slightly. "I'd remember."
Ivy smiled politely.
"Is there anything else I can get you?"
The tone did most of the work.
He leaned back in his chair.
"What's your name?"
"Ivy."
"Pretty."
His eyes lingered a little too long.
"You free after your shift, Ivy?"
She was already putting together a response — polite, clear, finished — when something shifted.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
The man looked past her shoulder and sat up slightly.
"Just the drink," he said.
Quieter this time.
"Thank you."
Ivy picked up the empty glass and walked back toward the service station.
Aiden was standing near the corridor entrance, phone in hand.
Not looking at table six.
Not looking at her either.
Still, her pulse had started doing that annoying thing again.
Very inconvenient.
---
He did that on purpose, she wrote during break, leaning against the staff room wall.
Didn't say anything. Didn't intervene. Just appeared.
She stared at the next line for a second.
Does he do that for everyone?
Then she crossed it out.
Then wrote it again.
Then stared at it some more.
Stop.
She shut the notebook.
---
The shift ended at midnight.
She was pulling on her coat in the staff corridor when she heard his voice.
Not speaking to her.
Around the corner.
Low.
She kept walking.
Then...
"Caine."
She stopped.
Apparently this was becoming a habit.
"—not yet," Aiden said quietly. "She's still finding her footing."
Another voice answered, older, male.
Too low to catch.
"I said not yet."
No edge to it.
No raised voice.
Just final.
Footsteps followed.
Ivy stayed where she was for a second.
Ready for what.
That was the first thought.
The second one arrived immediately after.
Why had hearing him say her name felt strange?
---
Luna was awake.
Of course she was.
"You have a face," Luna said the moment Ivy walked in.
"I always have a face. Humans generally do."
"You have a specific face."
She tucked her legs up on the couch.
"Sit."
Ivy sat.
Dropped her bag beside the couch.
Looked somewhere over Luna's shoulder.
"He said my name," she said finally.
Luna waited.
"To someone else. He didn't know I could hear."
A pause.
"He said I wasn't ready yet."
"Ready for what?"
"That's the problem."
Luna watched her for a moment.
"Ivy."
The careful version of her name.
"This man hired you without advertising a position, knew who you were before you applied, watches you constantly, and now he's apparently discussing you with mystery people." She held Ivy's gaze. "You're aware that's concerning, right?"
"It is."
"And?"
Ivy pulled her knees up.
Looked toward the dark window.
"And I keep going back."
Luna exhaled slowly.
"Because of the mystery."
Ivy didn't answer.
Luna looked at her for another few seconds.
"Right?"
"Go to sleep, Luna."
"Ivy..."
"I said go to sleep."
Luna got up.
Slowly.
The silence she left behind felt deliberate.
Ivy sat alone for a while.
Then opened her notebook.
She wrote:
He said "not yet" like the decision had already been made.
She looked at it.
Read it again.
Then closed the notebook and pushed it away.
The apartment was quiet.
Too quiet.
And for some reason that bothered her more than usual.