Molly Gray sat at her table, pretending to ignore a guy she wasn't really ignoring.

She had been in Hollow Cry just over a week. Molly liked the Hollow because it was one of the few towns in the Ring with a proper tavern. She had been in her usual corner, nursing a whiskey, and eating a bowl of stewed chicken, which was pretty damn fine, when she noticed him looking at her.

He was standing up near the bar, stealing short glances in her direction. It wasn't strange for men to look at her, although she noticed it had been happening less now that see was over thirty.

He's tall. I like that. Nice clothes, too. And he doesn't seem to talk too much. Even better.

Molly wondered how he was still single, and it occurred to her that he might not be. She decided she didn't care. She had, quite literally, the worst job in the entire world. If the universe wanted to toss a treat in her lap, Molly wasn't going to let the feelings of some other woman, who might not even exist, make her throw it back.

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When his back was turned, she popped a small mirror out of her leather bag, and gave herself a quick look. Her teeth were clean, and she was having a reasonably good hair day. She didn't love the little lines that were developing at the edges of her mouth, but there wasn't anything she could do about it. Her blue eyes still sparkled. She'd have those, at least, until the day they set her body on fire.

He looked over again, and this time she raised her eyes up to meet his, just for a moment. She gave him a little smile. She was going for mysterious, and hoped it didn't come off as confused. The guy smiled back, and then spoke to the bartender. A moment later another whiskey was deposited in front of her, and Molly's night was coming into focus.

She looked at him again, raised the glass, and took a sip.

Okay. Here's your chance. Walk on over. As long as the first words out of your mouth aren't something stupid, you can take me home.

Something in her bag buzzed.

No. Not now.

She knew that if she opened her bag, she would see the blue glow. Molly could tell, just from the pitch of the buzz, that the device would indicate she didn't have much time.

She felt the old familiar fog start to creep in, that one that made her want to drain the whiskey in front of her, sit back, close her eyes, and not talk to anybody, or maybe crawl back to her room and slip into her bed for two days. The fog made her want to do nothing, and it made nothing sound gooooood.

Because what she was about to do instead was unpleasant.

Molly closed her eyes and let out a long, slow breath, pushing the fog away. Gus had said that it would get easier with time, but Molly had realized a long time ago that Gus was just trying to be kind.

She took a long gulp of whiskey, got up from her table, and walked to the door. One last wistful look at her guy, and she was outside.

Sorry, fella. Some other time.