The last of the guests had gone, leaving behind the smell of smoke, perfume, and money. Empty glasses dotted the bar like abandoned trophies, and your wrists ached from hours of pouring, smiling, nodding. You dragged a rag across the counter, shoulders slumped, ready to call it a night.

When you looked up, you wasn’t surprised to find him still there. Evgeni leaned against the far wall, hands folded behind his back, posture strict even in the hush of an empty room.

“You don’t have to hover,” you said, tossing the rag aside. “I’m not about to swipe the silverware.”

His mouth twitched, though it wasn’t quite a smile. “It is my job to watch. Even when the crowd is gone.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your bag. “So you’ve spent the last five hours guarding art and drunken billionaires, and now you’re guarding me too?”

“You say it like this is bad.” His voice was quiet, firm. “Better to be safe.”

There was no arguing with him when he was like that — steady as a stone wall. You slung your bag over your shoulder and headed for the door. When you glanced back, he was already falling into step behind you.

⸻

The city air was damp, heavy with the scent of rain, steam rising from the grates. His boots made no sound on the pavement, but his presence was as solid as the buildings around you.

“You really don’t quit, do you?” you muttered.

Evgeni’s gaze flicked toward you. “And leave you to walk alone through this?” He gestured to the empty street, shadows pooling beneath the lamps. “I do not think so.”

“What, do I look fragile?”

“Not fragile. Distracted. You think of other things when you walk.”

That stopped you for a beat. “…You watch me that closely?”

“Of course,” he said simply, as though it were obvious.

You shoved your hands deeper into your jacket. “Do you ever get tired of it? Guarding? Watching people who don’t even notice you?”

His steps slowed, as though weighing the question. “Yes. Sometimes. But it is the only thing I know how to do.”

“That’s bleak,” you muttered.

“Maybe. But it keeps me steady. Everyone needs something.”

The words hung between you, soft but heavy. You thought about the way you sometimes corrected clients without realizing, spouting off auction facts you hadn’t meant to retain. “Guess mine’s bartending for the rich. Pays the bills, at least.”

He made a low sound — not agreement, not disapproval. Just acknowledgment.

By the time you reached your building, the silence between you was full, not empty. You lingered at the steps, pulling out your keys. “Thanks for the walk. Again. Guess I owe you one.”

Evgeni shook his head once. “You owe nothing.”

There was no smile, no flourish, just the blunt certainty he carried like armor. Yet it warmed you in a way you couldn’t explain.

“See you tomorrow, then?” you asked.

His pause was brief, deliberate. “Yes. Tomorrow.”

And with that, he turned back into the night, shadow dissolving into shadow — like he had never been there at all, and yet leaving you certain that he would be again.