The pub was louder than expected.
Warm light.
Old wood.
Rock music low enough to allow conversation but loud enough to blur the edges of bad decisions.
The moment the four of them walked in—
the room shifted.
Not dramatically.
Not movie-style silence.
Worse.
Gradual attention.
Heads turning one after another.
Eyes lingering too long.
Because subtlety died instantly against a group like this.
Ishtar entered first.
Six foot six of controlled violence wrapped in dark clothes and heavy boots. Broad shoulders. Dreadlocks tied back. The kind of presence that made drunk men either stare too long or immediately look away.
Tonight, unfortunately, several chose the first option.
Aglaë walked beside her, swallowed by an oversized jacket that failed completely at hiding how painfully pretty she was. Soft blonde hair. wide eyes. Small frame. Fragile-looking in the exact way that attracted predators and protectors at the same time.
She noticed the stares almost immediately.
Her shoulders folded inward slightly.
Mia came next.
And that was the real problem.
Not because she looked famous anymore.
Because she looked dangerous.
Long black hair falling over shaved temples. Emerald eyes almost unnaturally bright beneath the dim amber lights. Dark functional clothes somewhere between underground artist and urban combat gear.
No glamour.
No Alice.
And somehow infinitely harder to ignore.
People looked at her the way humans looked at fire.
Instinctively.
Octave followed last.
Elegant.
Too pale.
Too composed.
And physically the least intimidating person in the group by far.
Which created a very unfortunate visual impression:
one fragile rich-looking guy escorting three women who collectively radiated emotional instability and potential felony charges.
The bartender visibly reconsidered several life choices while watching them approach.
Octave smiled politely.
"Four beers," he said calmly.
A pause.
"Preferably before the inevitable incident."
The bartender blinked.
"…What?"
"Nothing."
They settled into a booth near the back wall.
Or rather—
they attempted to.
Ishtar took up alarming amounts of physical space naturally.
Aglaë stayed close to Mia without seeming aware of it.
Mia sat facing the room automatically, instincts still too alert to expose her back.
Octave noticed that immediately.
Hypervigilance still active.
Good to know.
For a while, things were… fine.
Beer arrived.
Music played.
Rain tapped softly against the windows.
Aglaë relaxed little by little, smiling more openly now as Octave dryly criticized the pub's decor with the disdain of someone personally offended by rural architecture.
Mia even laughed twice.
Tiny victories.
Then the staring started becoming obvious.
Not everyone.
Just enough.
Groups of men at nearby tables glancing over repeatedly.
Eyes lingering on Ishtar's body.
On Aglaë's mouth.
On Mia's eyes.
Too long.
Too confidently.
Mia felt the atmosphere changing before anyone spoke about it.
Her body noticed first.
The tightening in her shoulders.
The way Ishtar's posture slowly shifted from relaxed to alert.
The way Aglaë unconsciously moved closer.
Octave noticed too.
Of course he did.
"Humans," he muttered quietly while sipping his beer. "Such majestic creatures."
A man near the bar laughed loudly at something that clearly involved them.
Another whispered something to his friend while staring openly at Aglaë.
Aglaë lowered her eyes immediately.
Mia saw that.
And instantly hated it.
Not jealousy.
Not possessiveness.
Recognition.
That shrinking instinct.
That reflex women learned young.
Ishtar leaned back slightly in the booth, gaze turning colder by the second.
"This place is starting to annoy me."
Octave sighed softly.
"Yes. I was hoping the alcohol would delay the inevitable social collapse another twenty minutes."
Too late.
A drunk guy approached the table holding a beer he was definitely not balanced enough to carry safely.
Late thirties.
Broad shoulders.
Confidence inflated by alcohol and the catastrophic support system known as male friends.
He stopped beside Aglaë first.
Of course he did.
"Hey sweetheart," he slurred slightly. "You look way too cute to be hiding back here."
Aglaë froze instantly.
Mia's jaw tightened.
Octave leaned back slowly, already emotionally exhausted.
Ishtar looked almost hopeful.
The man kept talking.
"You girls here alone?"
Octave stared at him.
"…I'm literally sitting right here."
The drunk man blinked slowly like this information had arrived from another dimension.
"Yeah but…" he gestured vaguely. "…you know."
Octave looked deeply offended.
"I do know. That somehow made it worse."
Aglaë tried to smile politely.
Dangerous instinct.
The man interpreted kindness as permission immediately and placed one hand against the edge of the booth near her shoulder.
Too close.
Mia felt the shift beside her instantly.
Aglaë stopped breathing properly.
Ishtar moved slightly.
Then Mia moved first.
Not violently.
Not yet.
She looked up slowly at the man.
Green eyes sharp enough now to cut through the alcohol haze.
"She said no."
The pub noise seemed quieter suddenly around their table.
The man looked at Mia now.
And for half a second uncertainty flickered across his face.
Good instinct.
Ruined instantly by ego.
"I wasn't talking to you."
Mia stood.
Slowly.
The movement alone changed the atmosphere.
No Noire.
No switch.
Just Mia.
And somehow that felt more dangerous now.
The man laughed awkwardly and reached toward her arm like he intended to push past her slightly.
Big mistake.
The second his fingers touched her sleeve—
every person at the table reacted at once.
Ishtar started rising.
Aglaë panicked.
Octave muttered:
"…there it is."
And Mia smiled.
Not pleasantly.