Assad and Taura slid onto the stools at the counter, seamlessly blending into the lively mix of noise and laughter around them.
The bartender glanced over, wiping a glass with a rag.
"What can I get you?" he asked, his voice relaxed and a bit bored.
"Two of whatever burns the most," Taura shot back without hesitation.
The bartender nodded, pouring a rich amber liquid into two short glasses and sliding them their way.
Taura grabbed hers in one smooth motion, the burn igniting a spark in her eyes. Assad, on the other hand, stared at his drink for a moment before taking a slow sip. The flavor was sharp and heavy like fire wrapped in metal.He set the glass down and leaned in slightly toward her.
"So, what's the plan here?"he said, his voice calm yet precise
Taura swirled the remnants of her drink, watching the liquid catch the light.
"We wait until the buyer shows up, the deal goes down, then we move. Easy peasy."she replied.
"Easy peasy," he echoed, not entirely convinced.
She smirked, catching the hint of doubt in his eyes. "Don't tell me you're getting cold feet, rookie."
Assad's gaze drifted toward the VIP section where the man with the suitcase sat, flanked by his guards, completely undisturbed.
"Not cold feet, just not a fan of leaving things to chance." he said, his voice flat.
Taura chuckled softly, resting her elbow on the counter.
"You'll figure it out soon enough. Patience is your best friend in this line of work."
The bartender moved down the counter to serve another group. Around them, the crowd pulsed with life music thumping, laughter spilling, shadows dancing under the flickering lights.
Assad's hand brushed the edge of his coat, feeling the reassuring weight of his concealed weapon.
"Alright, we wait." he said quietly, his eyes locked on the upper level.
Taura leaned back, her gaze fixed on the VIP booth, a familiar, dangerous smile playing on her lips. "Yeah. But once he shows up… we turn this place into our stage."
Time dragged on, stretching from minutes into what felt like hours.
Assad and Taura were perched at the counter, their drinks barely touched. The atmosphere hadn't shifted much, the same tune played on repeat, and the usual crowd of half-drunk regulars stumbled around like extras in a forgettable film.
Each time the door creaked open, they both instinctively turned their heads. But it was always just another random face: a group of friends laughing too loudly, a tipsy couple weaving their way in, or a solitary man looking for trouble. None of them were the buyer they were waiting for.
Taura let out a sigh and leaned back, idly spinning her glass. "Two hours you'd think a big-time buyer could at least show up on time."she grumbled
Assad remained silent, his silver eyes fixed on the VIP booth. The dealer was still there, same stance, same glass of whiskey but the tension was palpable.
His jaw was clenched now, and one of his guards was pacing nervously near the table, glancing at his watch like it was a ticking time bomb.
"He's not happy," Assad murmured.
"Can't say I blame him, we're bored out of our minds too."Taura replied, stretching her arms.
Assad's gaze drifted back to the entrance of the bar and there was still no sign of a buyer coming inside but only the endless cycle of doors swinging open and closed, the parade of indifferent faces.
He let out a soft breath. "You'd think the city's underworld could at least stick to a schedule."
Taura smirked. "Welcome to reality, rookie. Everyone's late, everyone's a threat, and everyone's foolish enough to keep us waiting."
A heavy silence settled in. The only sounds were the low thump of the music and the clinking of empty glasses. Then the dealer suddenly slammed his drink down on the table, the sharp crack slicing through the bar's noise like a knife.
Heads turned for a moment, then quickly shifted back, pretending they hadn't noticed.
Taura leaned in closer to Assad, her grin reappearing. "Looks like someone's running out of patience."
"Yea you're right on that."
The night dragged on like wet paint. Assad was nursing the last of his drink, swirling the dregs in his glass, when the bar door creaked open again at first, he didn't think much of it, just another drunk stumbling in, he figured. But then the chatter dipped for a moment. Heads turned ever so slightly.
A woman stepped inside.
She was unlike anyone else in The Hot Swan dressed in a black-and-white maid outfit, it was a sharp and pristine and a silver cross dangled from her neck, glinting in the soft neon light. In one hand, she held an umbrella, and in the other, a small suitcase.
Assad blinked, momentarily taken aback.
'A maid? What the hell…?'
She glided through the smoky haze with an effortless grace, her steps steady and purposeful, as if the chaos around her was nothing but a distant echo. Assad couldn't tear his eyes away.
'Do maids even exist in this world? Or have I completely lost it?'
"Hey, why are you staring at another girl, huh? Are you planning to blow our cover for a pair of frills and lace?"Taura's voice jolted him back to reality.
Assad flinched, dropping his gaze. "Sorry. It's just you think she might be the buyer?"He nodded toward the woman
Taura blinked, then burst into laughter sharp, bright, and mocking. "Oh my gosh, you're serious."
She leaned in closer, whispering between giggles. "A maid? You think she's the buyer? That's the dumbest—"
But before she could finish, the woman set her umbrella down and started making her way toward the VIP section.
Assad's expression shifted. His amusement faded.
Taura's grin froze. "…Okay, what the hell."