Glass Houses

[Raffe]

Carmen had been quiet all evening. In the dusky glow of the club's lights, he caught the pensive edge of her frown a dozen times between the lull in patrons. She wasn't the only one. The wake of Ascendancy's demonstration in the Red Square left little bubbles of disquiet in the city; a pause of shock and awe as the reality of it slowly began to sink in. The hulking mass of the new arch dominated every newsfeed. It sucked in enough coverage to steal the light from the sun.

It was still early; enough that business had yet to really pick up, and even the bar show would not begin for another hour. Servers adorned like jewels threaded through the sparse clusters of customers in the plush booths, mostly regulars. A tease of music soared from hidden speakers, curling amongst the clink of glass and ice, accentuating the hum of talk and laughter. Raffe lounged on the bar, back-dropped by the twinkle of ornate and vintage bottles. Chandeliers glittered above.

He watched Carmen as she meandered, greeting people with a sultry smirk, topping glasses from diamond studded bottles, sharing a few familiar words. But still that grimace of concern when she moved on.

It wasn't like her to be ruffled. He frowned.

Abandoning the bar, he followed her when she slipped backstage and into a cloud of sequins and feathers, glitter and steel. Dewy skin flashed in the large ornate mirrors, and someone chucked something small and lacy at his chest amongst a low murmur of giggling; he wasn't supposed to wander back here. A small grin tugged at his lips, but he ignored the distractions as he spied out Carmen tightening one of the girl's corset stays.

He caught her by the hip, pulled her gently around to face him.

"Talk to me, Carmen. What's up?"


Victory rolls framed her porcelain face, a wave of blood-red curls nestling on her pale shoulders. Colourful tattoos draped her arms, which she presently folded. Her lips pursed. For a moment he anticipated a scold for his familiarity - she was his boss, after all, and she'd never quite melted to his charms the way the others did. But the flash of ire in her expression softened. Though she did at least pull him away from the dressing rooms and into the shadows beyond, where a staircase led to the offices above.

The darkness clung to her face. Away from the customers her masks dropped, deepening the severity of her frown. "It's Ori."
She said the name like a curse, pursing her lips. "I'm worried she's going to do something fucking stupid."


He'd been working shifts here the last two years, and the venue had always had an air of unusual; something that made Kallisti among Raffe's favourite jobs. He cast a casual glance to the darkness above, ears pricked for any indication of movement in the floors above, but the thump of music drowned out anything he might hear. The girls sometimes complained of noises. Carmen had confided once that Oriena kept someone - or something - up there, but Raffe had held his hands up. If it didn't interfere with the job, it wasn't his business.

"Like what?"


"I don't know. Call it intuition. It's just the announcement, and now the Arch. She keeps unsavoury company, and I do not want this place caught in the crossfire."
She paused. "Just keep an eye on the customers. At least until things settle back down."
She barely waited for his nod before she thrust a hand on her hip, gaze narrowing. "Now get your ass back out there, Raffe."


He laughed, snuck a fond kiss on her forehead as she shoved him gently on his way back out to the club.