Riley stared down into the golden dregs of beer, wishing his glass wasn’t quite so empty. He’d only meant to stay out for an hour or so, a bit of relaxation before he had to return to his apartment, the latest in a series of grubby little short-term rentals. But his lack of desire to go home had spurred him on to another, and then another round. He liked this bar, with its low lighting and comfortable stools. A couple of other patrons had made timid overtures, but for the most part everyone had left him alone, which he really liked. A bit of solitude, without being completely alone, was Riley’s sweet spot.

But last call had come and gone, and Riley’s oasis was closing for the night. Though the bartender had indicated that he might be welcome back to her place for a nightcap, he knew what he needed to do was go home. Alone. Exams were only two weeks away and he had to do well. His shit grades from high school hadn’t yet followed him to the Academy, and there was a chance, a real chance, he could pass.  

And if he did, that might just change everything.    

“Thanks,” he said, with a nod to the proprietress, as he laid some bills down on the bartop. She waved, only half-turning from where she’d been busy restocking glassware. No hard feelings then, for turning down her overture. He liked that. Maybe the next time he came he’d be in a better place to see if her offer was still good.  

It had been a while, he realized, slipping on his coat. He recalled waking up once or twice in a stranger’s room, the first week he’d moved to the city, but as soon as classes had started he’d cut back on partying and, subsequently, strangers. His friends back home would hardly recognize him. But that, he thought, pushing open the bar’s door, was about far more than cutting back on casual sex. A new beginning was why he’d come to New Breley.  

Outside the bar, Riley paused to look around. He’d been in the city a little over a month and hadn’t yet caught his bearings. He liked living in human metropolises, marveled at enginuity writ without magic, but being so cut off from nature was at times disorienting for his internal compass. Especially nights like tonight, when there was alcohol to help.  

He spun around at last, fairly sure he knew in which direction lay the train, and smacked directly into a man he hadn’t known had been behind him. The stranger was nearly as tall as Riley, though probably about half his mass, and he ricocheted back in surprise. Riley caught him by the elbow at the last minute, saving him from a painful sprawl on the pavement. 

Thanks to the streetlight overhead, Riley realized the man was familiar. He’d been inside the bar tonight too, had in fact made an advance on Riley. He was handsome in a subtle way, but his full cheeks had been over-flushed with alcohol even then, and Riley had declined. Now, his soft blue eyes were rounded in surprised as he stared up at Riley.  

“Sorry, man, I didn’t mean to--” 

Without warning, the stranger swung his fist towards Riley’s face; it was reflex alone that allowed Riley to dodge back, the blow glancing harmlessly across his chest. The other man, meanwhile, spun himself wildly before falling in a wobbling heap onto the sidewalk. 

“What the hell?” Riley demanded. His would-be-assailant lay quiet.

“Hey, come on, get up,” Riley said, crouching down and rolling him over. The other man had gone limp, all the fight out of him, and he groaned weakly. He’d clearly had more than a few too many.  

Riley turned back to the bar door, hoping he could prevail upon the bartender to get the guy some water or coffee, but the lights had gone dark and the door was locked. Out of the corner of his eye, Riley saw the drunk pull himself up enough to slump against the wall.  

“Let’s get you a cab,” Riley said, waving one down. “Where do you live?” The drunk nodded at him, leaning placidly against Riley’s side. He rooted around in the man’s pockets but only found cash, no ID. He tried asking again several times, but to no avail. 

“Fuck,” Riley grumbled, dragging them both into a cab. He gave the driver his own address. “Fuck.”

***

Riley lay in bed, struggling to sleep. He’d set his would-be attacker on a sleeping bag in the living room, with a bucket by his side and a note for when he woke up. Riley had awoken more than once in unfamiliar territory, and he’d always thought it would be a nice touch if someone would have left him an explanation of how he’d got there. 

A creaking noise from the next room alerted him to the fact that the stranger was up. Riley had left the light on in the bathroom and the door propped open so he could find it, but after a few minutes Riley realized that the sounds weren’t coming from the bathroom. It sounded like the stranger was moving around the living room; perhaps he was still disoriented and couldn’t find his way.

Riley slipped out of bed, moving carefully so he wouldn’t spook his uninvited guest. He opened his bedroom door, then froze at what he saw.

The stranger was moving around, but without a trace of disorientation. He was quickly and carefully rifling through Riley’s kitchen drawers; behind him on the kitchen table sat Riley’s backpack, unzipped and with Riley’s stereo shoved inside. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Riley asked, flipping on the light switch. Clear blue eyes turned to face him, blinking at him with mild surprise. 

“Why,” the man said, without a trace of his former inebriation, “getting caught, I suppose.”