After an unpleasant morning and a tedious day, Riley had expected to regret his promise to go for after-work drinks with Taysha. But somehow, having her pepper him with questions was a refreshing return to normalcy. The fact that the bar was having 2-for-1 night probably didn't hurt. 

“So, you go home for a wedding and it turns into all that?" Taysha asked, goggling up at him from across the booth. "How is the real story actually crazier than the rumors?” Riley shrugged.

“The Decker family Press Secretary is very good at their job,” he said wryly. 

"Damn, man," Taysha said, shaking her head. "I forget sometimes who your family is."

"That's not unusual," Riley muttered into his beer. Taysha's eyes softened.

"I meant cause you're so chill and don't have a stick up your ass, obviously," she said, kicking him gently under the table. "I mean, unless gods forbid someone moves something like one fraction of an inch out of place on your desk--"

"I knew you messed with my stuff."

"Hey, man, I'm trying to remind you that you don't suck, even if your summer did. And you know what, I have a good feeling that tonight we can find someone who will give you the nice hero's welcome you deserve."

"No."

"What, come on!" she said, reaching out and slapping his hand playfully. "You look even doomier and gloomier today than you did yesterday, I think a little companionship is just what you need. You know I'm a great wingwoman." Taysha popped up in the booth, already starting to peer around.

“You're a terrible wingwoman,” Riley said. Taysha didn’t stop scanning the crowd, even as she flipped him off.

“OK, so there is a very pretty blonde over in the corner that is clearly not here with the guy trying to chat her up. She's looking around all 'someone save me.' Perfect opening for your hero schtick.”

“Pass,” Riley said without looking.

“Not enough of a challenge? OK, I hear ya. Moving on I spy… oh, now that is an ass. Can’t see the face, but if you’re not interested I may have to go over and introduce myself. Wow… yeah, you know what, not your type, I think.”

“Don't you want to go over for a closer look to be sure?” Riley suggested with feigned innocence.

“N-not until we find someone for you,” Taysha said, though she was clearly having difficulty tearing her eyes away. Finally she twisted back into her seat, gauging the prospects behind Riley.

“Oh, now this one I like for you,” she said finally. “Cute with attitude, like he could shake you up right. Tattoos, kinda skinny, but honestly those pants are hugging in all the right places, like where do I get a pair, and… oh, shit, he’s walking over. I’ve been made. He’s coming.”

“Damn it, Tay,” Riley muttered before a shadow fell over their table. Riley barely had time to register surprise before the newcomer squeezed into the booth beside him. The dim bar lights glinted off the too familiar lip ring.

“There you are,” Dash said, with a frustrated flip of his blue-black hair. Riley could only gape at him.

“Um,” Taysha said, leaning back with wide eyes. “Well, hi!”

“Hi there!” Dash said brightly, flashing a thousand-watt smile her way. When he looked back to Riley his grey eyes were accusing.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Riley asked.

“I spent all day waiting for a call that didn’t come,” Dash said icily. Taysha whistled.

“So, you two clearly already know each other,” she said. “I’m Taysha.”

“We sure do. I’m--”

“Leaving,” Riley said, sliding his arm around Dash’s waist and scooping him out of the booth. He fished into his pocket, withdrawing a bill and slapping it on the table. 

“Sorry, Tay, I'll call you later,” he said, ignoring her shocked expression before half-dragging the other man out of the bar.

“She's cute,” Dash said as soon as they were outside. “Sorry to crash date night.”

“That wasn’t--" Riley paused, unwilling to let Dash distract him. For some reason the younger man was still glaring up at him like he'd done something wrong.

"What the fuck is your deal, man?" Riley asked. "You can track me to a bar, but you need my help to find your brother? Whatever game you’re playing, I’m out.”

“I heard the name of the bar when you were on the phone with her yesterday, dickweed,” Dash spat back. “Your girlfriend isn't exactly quiet.” 

Riley’s shoulders still heaved, but it was true that Taysha didn’t speak in dulcet tones. And he kind of remembered her naming the bar.

“Well, damn it, you couldn’t have just called?”

Dash crossed his arms and glared at Riley until the latter fished his phone out of his back pocket, to find the alerts for several missed calls and a handful of texts. 

“Oh,” Riley said. “It’s… loud in there. Look, I didn't call you because I don’t have anything yet. My guy is working on it, but--”

“That’s why I’m here, though,” Dash said impatiently. “Maybe your guy didn’t find anything, but I did.”