[Setting: A Dimly Lit Bar, Somewhere Beyond Reason]

Elliot is seated at the bar, nursing a drink that seems to shift colors whenever he looks away. The bar is a strange blend of the familiar and the surreal—neon signs glow faintly in languages he can’t read, and the jukebox is playing a song that sounds oddly like his own heartbeat.

Behind the bar, Felicity, the God of Happy Accidents, is pouring drinks with a theatrical flourish, while Claire, dressed in an apron that somehow suits her, is drying glasses and chatting with her. The two seem oddly comfortable in their roles.

Felicity (grinning at Elliot as she pours a drink): “You’re quieter than usual tonight, darling. Lost in thought, or just waiting for the punchline?”

Elliot (blinking, trying to make sense of it all): “This… doesn’t feel right. Why are you both here? Why are you working at a bar?”

Claire (chiming in, not looking up): “Why not? It’s a good gig. Decent tips. Keeps things… grounded.”

Felicity (laughing softly): “Grounded? Oh, Claire, you’re adorable. Nothing about this is grounded, my dear Elliot. But that’s the beauty of it, isn’t it? Speaking of which…” (she leans on the bar, fixing Elliot with a mischievous look) “did I ever tell you the story of the man who dreamed of the red umbrella?”

Elliot (groaning): “Not the umbrella again.”

Felicity (ignoring him, launching into the story):

“Once upon a time, there was a man named Victor. Victor was an ordinary man—except for one peculiar thing. Every night, he dreamed of a red umbrella. Sometimes it was floating down a river, sometimes it was sitting on a park bench, and once, it was spinning on a windy beach. The umbrella never did anything particularly special, but it was always there.

“One day, Victor decided he’d had enough. He couldn’t stop thinking about the umbrella, so he went out and bought one just like it—a bright, brilliant red. And wouldn’t you know it? The very next day, it rained.”

Claire (interrupting, amused): “So what, he got some use out of it? That’s the story?”

Felicity (grinning, wagging a finger): “Patience, darling. The rain was just the beginning. As Victor walked down the street, umbrella in hand, he passed a woman standing on the corner without one. Being the gentleman he was—or maybe just because the umbrella seemed to demand it—he offered it to her. And that small gesture? It changed everything.

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“She took the umbrella, thanked him profusely, and went on her way. Victor thought nothing of it. But a week later, he saw her again—this time, standing in front of a café with a man who turned out to be her fiancé. The two had met because she’d stopped into the café to dry off, red umbrella in tow.”

Elliot (sighing): “Let me guess—Victor never saw his umbrella again.”

Felicity (shrugging): “Not exactly. A month later, he passed by that same café and saw the couple sitting by the window. And there it was, propped up against the chair. They saw him too, and invited him in. That red umbrella? It became a symbol of something far bigger than a rainy day—a symbol of connection, of serendipity, of… well, life.”

Claire (smiling): “That’s… surprisingly sweet. Almost makes me want to buy a red umbrella.”

Elliot (dryly): “Or avoid them entirely.”

[Meanwhile, Claire and Felicity Chat Privately]

While Felicity moves down the bar to refill a patron’s drink, Claire leans on the counter, watching Elliot out of the corner of her eye.

Felicity (returning, sliding a drink to Claire): “You’ve got that look, darling. Spill it.”

Claire (hesitating): “It’s… nothing.”

Felicity (teasing): “Claire, Claire, Claire. You’re in a dreamscape, and I’m your bartender. There’s no such thing as ‘nothing.’”

Claire (smiling despite herself): “Fine. It’s Elliot.”

Felicity (grinning, leaning in): “Of course it is. And?”

Claire (shrugging, a faint blush coloring her cheeks): “I don’t know. He’s… frustrating. And awkward. But there’s something about him. Like he’s always trying so hard, even when he has no idea what he’s doing. It’s…”

Felicity (gently): “Charming?”

Claire (sighing): “Yeah. Against all odds, it really is.”

[The Awakening]

As the conversation continues, Elliot begins to feel strange. The bar starts to blur at the edges, the music fading into an indistinct hum. He blinks, and suddenly he’s awake, staring at the ceiling of his apartment.

Elliot (sitting up, groaning): “What the hell was that?”

He rubs his face, trying to shake the dream from his mind. Just then, there’s a knock at the door.

Claire (calling out): “Elliot? You ready to go?”

Elliot stumbles to the door and opens it. Claire is standing there, looking entirely normal. Behind her, leaning casually against the wall, is the God of Coincidence, grinning as if he knows something Elliot doesn’t.

Coincidence: “Well, well. Look who’s awake. Coincidentally, just in time.”

Elliot (glaring at him): “You were in my dream, weren’t you?”

Coincidence (feigning innocence): “Dreams? Me? Oh, Elliot, I’m just here to tag along. But tell me, was it a good one?”

Elliot (sighing, shaking his head): “You’re insufferable.”

Claire (nudging him): “Come on. We’ll be late. Whatever it was, you can tell me on the way.”

As they walk off, the God of Coincidence hums a familiar tune, the faint sound of rain and umbrella spokes echoing in the distance.

[End Scene]

[retcon:1]