I tapped my foot along the beat from the stage's speakers as I closed the paperback, smiling as tunes flooded my ears while thoroughly appreciating the establishment's atmosphere where we were to meet our clientele.

A warm lamplight painted the small space - the color palate was a mix of deep blacks and brilliantly neon fluorescence that somehow balanced to create an artistically distinct and expressive aesthetic that fits the music like a glove.

"Did you at least bookmark the page where we stopped?" My partner asked, her voice mingling with the singsong lyrics, "And don't try the dog ear method, or I will fold you."

"As much as I enjoy your puns and threats, you don't have to worry. I've got the best bookmark right here." I answered, pointing to my head with a grin as I handed her back the novel.

"Oh, really? I thought it impossible for you to remember anything above two digits." Myla joked, grabbing the book from my hands, immediately flipping it to the exact page we stopped on, and placing a small, snowflake-themed bookmark where we left off.

I stand corrected. I should've been pointing at your noggin.

Ignoring my partner's scarily observant eyes, I decided to scan the place as I took a sip of my vibrantly, admittedly almost radioactively, colorful sweet tea that tasted as artificial as it looked.

"If I recall, the soundproof studios where the bands practice and rehearse are upstairs - Fable and Gale should be down in a few minutes." My partner remarked, humming along to the energetic music as she returned the novel to her bag.

"A bar, music club, and studio all in one, huh? Quite the spot." I replied, looking around the vintage brick walls of the place - hanging instruments and dormant neon lining each side.

This quaint little spot was the club where Fable's band played and was what she chose as our meeting place for her call. We sat near the far wall, sharing the venue with very few people as the club pandered to a more nocturnal clientage.

It was a nice change of scenery from the usual cafes where we meet our clients, with the livelier tunes and peculiar decorations ranging from chalkboard signage to strange portraits, along with the scent of coffee and baked goods being replaced with the intoxicating musk of alcohol and vape. And even though the place only really came alive at night, it was already an appealing location even before the kiss of moonlight.

It was a place that didn't care for its aesthetically monochromatic contemporaries, and it showed.

Here's to hoping Gale cares more about what we have to say than the interior did for minimalism.

"Fable practices here in the mornings, then she heads to set up shop a bit before noon, right?" I asked, looking at the staging's spotlights and scaffolds.

"Yes, and around that time, Gale heads off for his classes. A bit hectic, isn't it?"

"Not like we have it any better." I quipped, taking another sip of the neon slush- the artificial fruitiness surprising comfort even in the cool weather.

My eyes drifted along the drop-down tiles above me as I began thinking of today's mission, "Just act like we're here to do a routine inspection while subtly telling him to get his act together. That simple, huh?"

"Simple words, complex tasks. The déjà vu is tangible." Myla replied, placing her elbow on the ebony table as she rested her eyes.

"Although," I began, my voice taking a more serious tone, "Wouldn't he be immediately suspicious about things?"

"Why so?" My partner's eyelids opened, revealing her inquisitive amber orbs.

"Well, if I was him and I was aware but hiding that things weren't all hunky dory with my relationship, I'd find seeing you again kinda suspect, y'know?"

She sighed softly, "There you go again, comparing yourself to him," Myla stated, a frustrated expression clear as her voice, "Besides, me having experience with him would actually support us being chosen as substitutes."

"Fair enough, I guess." I accepted, also placing my elbow on the tabletop and my fingers on my chin, "And wait, you're still on about that?"

"I could ask you the same thing." She threw back, peculiarly and persistently reminding me about her advice from when we met with Fable.

"I told you, alright? I will." I reassured her, casual yet confident, "It's not the first time you've told me to shut up."

"Yes, and the amount of times you've followed those instructions, I could count on one hand." My partner countered, her hand moving from her cheek to her forehead as she recalled.

"That's true, but remember," I began, letting my voice take a more sincere tone, "We're both on the client's side and at each other's side, so what's to worry about?" She remained silent, although she seemed satisfied with my answer.

When in doubt, use their own words against them.

And with that, the ambiance took over the scene as we both fell silent. I shook the glass in my hand as I fell into thought - the cold water dripping on my hand and the faint scent of alcohol was the only thing I could sense as I closed my eyes and we awaited our clients.

"Best to not get too comfortable," Myla stated, standing up and removing her jacket from the back of her seat, "They should be here any minute now."

She walked over and pulled the seat beside me, resting her coat on it and sitting down as the smell of booze turned to a viola fragrance.

"Did you change perfumes?" I asked, leaning in just a bit, "Of course, you'd pick a flower that blooms in winter." I added with a chuckle.

"You're surprisingly keen." She replied, turning her face away, "Is it too strong?"

"Oh, not that, I just wasn't used-" I stopped myself as I abruptly finished my statement with a hmm.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

"Now, what is it?" She turned to me, a stern and close-eyed expression that contrasted with the slight tension in her voice.

"Your hair is a little frizzy." I commented, noting the small detail I noticed when she turned away, "Cold weather does a number on long hair, doesn't it?" I continued as she combed through her locks with her fingers.

"It's a fool's errand to keep it down for good." She sighed as she opened her bag, "I had brought some stuff if it flared up, but I didn't think it would this early and right before we were meeting Fable, no less." Myla continued, her tone matter-of-fact, but I could tell she was frustrated.

While my partner was the stern and cool-headed type, she was surprisingly conscious about how she looked. She had a well-developed fashion sense, and I rarely caught her with the slightest blemish.

Maybe that's why I was so quick to offer, "I could help you with it. You've got some spray and a comb, right?"

She turned to me, eyebrows raised in surprise, "I appreciate the offer, but I can do it myself and...." Her hands returned to her hair, feeling the cluttered strands, "Like I said, the two will be here any minute, and I can just fix it when we get back to the car."

"Yes, and we'll be done the minute they get here." I reassured her, reaching out for the comb she had in her other hand, "It'll be faster if I help you, and if you wait till we get back, the sixty-degree weather will cause a bigger mess, so come on." And with that last push, she sighed and handed me the hair spray from her bag.

Myla spun her chair around as I opened the bottle and applied some to her hair before slowly combing it. I held the locks with my hand, nearly silk-smooth and cold as winter snow, as I made sure to straighten the frizzed strands.

"You learned this from Amanda, I'm guessing."

"You'd be correct." I said, spraying a bit more product onto her, "Why? Were you worried I had no idea what I was doing?"

"Every day of my life, actually." My dear partner replied, accenting her sarcasm with a brief and gentle chuckle.

Jokes on you! I wonder the same thing!

"I get why, though," Myla began, her shoulders relaxing as I continued, "Amanda's hair is rather long as well. It's good to see you managed to pick up a useful skill as rare as it is."

"Make fun of me all you want 'cause this is how we spent most of our dates during winter." I reminisced, nostalgia plain in my joyful voice, "I learned while we just talked, and I combed her hair for what felt like an hour."

"Let's hope this doesn't last that long." She remarked, not sarcastically but rather softspokenly.

I continued combing the rest of her hair - the velvet threads worth their weight in silver as they glistened in the lamplight before resuming the conversation.

Mainly cause it feels awkward doing this in complete silence. I guess that explains why barbers are so chatty.

"I know it's a weird time to say it, but wavy hair would probably look good on you, just not this wavy, of course," I commented as I was just about done.

Myla stayed silent for a moment before she turned ever so slightly, one of her eyes meeting mine, "I'll keep it in mind...Thanks." And she immediately turned back, not giving me the tiniest glimpse at her face.

"There," I exclaimed, "Should be straight as a silver-"

"Arrow." I was cut off by a familiarly lively voice coming from beside me.

"With how serious you two were a few days ago, I'm surprised to see you so friendly." Fable joked, a mischievous smirk plastered on her face.

Myla scrambled as fast as she could, turning her chair to the young woman and clearing her throat before giving her a completely deadpan expression - any trace of possible embarrassment gone in an instant, "Ah, good morning, Missus Glenn."

"Smooth recovery, Myla, smooth. But it's a little late for that, isn't it?" Fable joked, covering her mouth courteously to laugh.

Myla held on to her composure for all but five seconds once the young woman started to chuckle and could only close her eyes and sigh in exasperation.

Haha...She's gonna kill me.

That aside, I looked to Fable, who was dressed in something far different from her usual apron-over-uniform attire.

She wore a black tank top designed with a simple but vibrant vaporwave graphic along with baggy gray sweatpants. It was nothing flashy, but as she took off the headband that barely contained her heavy hair and gave it a quick toss, she rocked, pun intended, the indie musician aesthetic pretty damn well.

"I'd love to get my hair done too, but I'll be heading back to fetch Gale."

"Oh yeah, what's keeping him?" I asked, returning Myla's stuff back to her.

"Just cleaning up and changing clothes, you can't even tell it's winter when you're working up a sweat playing, y'know?" Fable said with an exhale, tired but content.

"Oh, and thanks again, both of you." She said with a genuine expression before turning around and walking back up the steps, "Yeesh, also gotta get a jacket. This place is freezing." And with that, she ran off.

She seemed happy.

Maybe playing music helped her take her mind off things, or perhaps seeing that we were here to help her lifted her spirits. Whatever the case, the smile on her face and the bounce in her step were now far more apparent when, just a few days ago, I thought she had lost them.

I concluded my thoughts as her silhouette disappeared up the winding steps - once again, Myla and I was left alone as we awaited the two.

I tried to break the quiet, "...So, uh, sorry about th-"

"Not a word."

"Not a peep, yep, thought so." Though it seemed a tad ineffective.

Seeing as my previous idea was a no-go, I decided to brace myself and do one last run-over with the plan. It was indeed simple, incredibly so. Just interview the two and make sure to bring up Fable's concern once the time is right. Piece a cake.

"They're here." I could hear Myla's voice speak as I opened my eyes, the sight of the fabled gale now approaching us with his partner in tow.

Here we go. What have you got to say for yourself, Gale, wife of Fable and son of, uh... Gust? Yeah, sure.

"Alright, guys, here he is." Fable presented her partner with open arms, now covered in a heavy white quilted parka coat with a guitar bag slung on her shoulder.

And indeed, there he was.

Gale Glenn.

"Good morning, you two. Sorry for the delay. I just had to pack up some stuff." The young man apologized, a hand to his nape as he spoke with a husky yet crisp voice.

He was just as I remembered from the documents Fable gave us a few days ago. His features were sharp and firm - even more so in person. The matte-blue eyes under his swells of long, brown, and gold hair darted from me to Myla as he greeted us. One thing of note, though, was he was smaller than I expected. From a glance, it almost looked like his partner was taller than him.

But most importantly, that air of gentleness remained. Was it just my imagination? Was he acting that way to hide something? Who knows? Something just kept egging me on about it.

"You're her new partner, right? Bridger Blaithe, was it?" He asked, knocking me out of thought as he extended his hand to me.

I took it, giving a cordial shake, "At your service, at least for today." I replied, professionalism taking over as I spoke in my customer service voice.

He let go of my hand and pulled two seats out, letting his other half rest as he took her guitar and placed it by the table together with his.

So he's the lead, I'm guessing.

Gale donned a long black fleece jacket over a light gray shirt with the simple design of some Japanese lettering that seemed to spell out guitar as the tiny instrument sat next to the symbols on his right chest. Other than that, dark canvas carpenter pants and a blue beanie were all the young man wore.

"Myla," He turned to my partner, tilting his head and smiling, "Long time no see, speak, text, or any other form of communication."

"It's good to see you too, Gale." She replied, crossing her arms, "You haven't changed a bit. Nor grown an inch, have you?" Even so, the teasing expression she had revealed her true feelings.

You're both five-foot-eight, don't cheat with those heels.

"Unrelated note, but your hair looks great, by the way. Did you get it done?" Gale asked, squinting his eyes as he stared at my partner.

Fable was the first to react, doing her best to hide her snickers as she covered her mouth and turned away.

Fable, please, you're going to get me killed.

"...It does?" Myla finally spoke, placing a hand on her hair.

The two of them nodded with added reassuring mhm noises as they complimented her. My partner turned to me, reserved and calm but carrying something else on her visage as she quietly whispered.

"Thanks." All I could do was smile and nod as well.

Well, maybe my death will be delayed just a little bit.