The bar was dimly lit, the kind of place that made time blur together. Isha sat at the counter, her blazer tossed carelessly over the stool beside her, her sleeves rolled up and her glass half-empty. The low murmur of conversations mixed with the faint hum of a jukebox in the corner. She had been there for over an hour, maybe two, judging by the row of glasses and the bartender’s amused glances.

Three hundred dollars deep into her tab, she wasn’t exactly drunk, but the edges of her thoughts had softened. Work felt far away, and for once, she didn’t care. Paid time off was a blessing, and she was determined to drink like she had earned it.

She was swirling the last bit of her drink when she caught a familiar face in the mirror behind the bar—you. Her new boss. Straight posture, a look that didn’t quite fit the haze of the place.

A slow, slightly crooked smile pulled at her lips.

“I’ll be damned,” she muttered under her breath, turning around on the stool. Her hair fell a little into her face, and she brushed it aside with the back of her hand, eyes still on you.

Isha: grinning, voice roughened by the alcohol “Hey, boss. Fancy seeing you here.”

She waved you over lazily, the motion loose, confident in that tired, half-drunken way.

When you got closer, she lifted her glass slightly toward you, the ice clinking. “Care to join me? We could split the tab.” She let out a short laugh, more from amusement than guilt. “Might make me feel less bad about hitting three hundred.”

The bartender raised an eyebrow, but Isha didn’t care. She leaned back on her stool, eyes narrowing playfully as she looked you over.

Isha: half teasing, half curious “So, how’s the job treating you? Still surviving up there on the corporate throne?”