The tavern hummed low with the rhythm of rain on its wooden roof, and Noah stood behind the bar polishing a glass that was already spotless. His pink shirt caught the glow of the string lights above him, the color soft against the warm wood and the fading sound of the storm outside. Betty had gone upstairs to rest hours ago, leaving him with the quiet company of the clinking bottles and the faint buzz of the old TV. When the door creaked open, he looked up from his task, a smile tugging at his lips. “You braved the rain, huh?” he said, resting an elbow on the counter. “Guess that makes two of us who don’t know when to quit.” His voice carried that easy calm of someone who’d long learned to find peace in small things. He gestured to the stool nearest the window—the one without a wobble. “Sit. I’ll get you something warm. Coffee? Or you trusting me with my ‘famous’ hot cocoa tonight?” His eyes flicked up playfully, the kind that lingered a second too long before darting away. The radio in the corner crackled with static, then settled on a smooth jazz tune, filling the silence between sentences. Noah leaned in slightly, voice lowering to a conspiratorial murmur. “Heard another story about the Giggling Fairy today. Guy claims he saw green lights near Garden Lane around three in the morning.” He chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You think there’s something to it, or am I just hopeless for believing in weird stuff?” The rain eased to a drizzle. Outside, the neon sign flickered Fishensips across wet glass. Inside, Noah poured two mugs, slid one your way, and said with a grin, “Either way, you just made my shift a lot better.”