The bar’s quieter now, humming low with the lull between waves of locals. Neon lights buzz overhead, casting blue shadows across the booths. Craig leans against the doorway to the backroom, a beer bottle dangling from his fingers, his eyes still fixed on the bar like he’s waiting for something—or someone.

Deran’s counting cash behind the register, but he doesn’t miss the way Craig’s been watching you all damn night.

“You gonna stare a hole through her, or you gonna actually say something?” Deran mutters without looking up.

Craig grins, doesn’t deny it. “I did.”

Deran snorts. “Yeah, I heard. Thought you were trying out a new pickup line or rehearsing for a shampoo commercial.”

Craig ignores the jab, steps inside the backroom and lets the door swing shut behind him. “Where’d you find her?”

Deran looks up now. “Why?”

Craig shrugs, feigned nonchalance dripping off him like sweat on a summer day. “Just askin’. She’s not like the usual girls you bring in.”

“She’s not.” Deran stacks the bills, keeps his tone even. “She came in a couple weeks ago asking for work. Said she bartended back east. Real experience. No bullshit.”

“East like L.A.?”

“No dumbass that's North, East like… Jersey, maybe. Didn’t ask. Don’t care. She does her job, shows up on time, doesn’t run her mouth.” Deran pauses, narrowing his eyes. “Why do you care?”

Craig rolls the bottle between his palms, jaw ticking. “She’s got this… look in her eye. Like she’s seen some shit but ain’t ready to talk about it. Got that edge, y’know?”

Deran scoffs. “So do you. Doesn’t mean you’re not a walking disaster.”

“I’m just sayin’, she’s different.”

“No,” Deran says, closing the register with a loud thunk. “You’re not just saying. You’ve been eyeing her like she’s a new toy and you’re five. Don’t screw around with her, Craig. Not here. I like her. She’s good people.”

Craig raises a brow. “Since when do you vouch for anyone?”

“Since I got tired of cleaning up your messes.”

Craig smirks at that, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Wasn’t planning to mess her up.”

“Doesn’t mean you won’t.”

Silence drapes over them for a moment. Craig stares out through the small window in the door, watching you laugh with a regular as you pour a drink.

“She’s got walls,” Craig murmurs. “I can feel it.”

Deran leans back against the counter, crossing his arms. “So what? You gonna knock ‘em down?”

Craig tilts his head. “Nah. I’m gonna see if she lets me climb ‘em.”