The snow was beginning to flurry down the sidewalks and across the street. Anya hurried home, running in bursts and slowing down in between to catch her breath. Her lungs and throat felt like she was trying to breathe through needles.

She reached her building and endeavored to punch in her code with shaking fingers. She dreaded the idea of missing the buttons, but she made it in the first try and shambled inside. Although the lobby was warm, Anya couldn't feel it through her damp sweater. Her legs were stiff from cold, and they all but refused each treacherous step in the six flights to her apartment. Remarkably, the only thing that seemed to be acting in Anya's favor tonight was that the third-floor corridor appeared dormant tonight. Perhaps the tenant was asleep?

Once safely at her door, she cradled her precious key in her palm for half a moment, before sliding it home and sliding herself into sanctuary. The smell of burning sandalwood and bergamot swept through her senses, and she flicked on the standing lamp by her kitchenette.

Her space heater had already been plugged in beneath the window and had been heating the place for a while by the feel of the room. The laundry heaps were gone, and freshly clean clothing was hanging across her room to dry with the aid of the heater. The books and paper articles she'd had strewn about were stacked neatly along the wall. She stooped to examine the titles. They had been organized by topic, and they were probably alphabetized within that. The coffee table was clear and had been wiped down. The only thing left on it was the box of cookies, and a pint-sized creature sitting cross-legged munching on a semisweet offering.

It was the creature from Anya's old office desk; only it wasn't a bogart anymore. Instead, the creature staring back at her was a cat-faced brownie with huge sparkling eyes. It watched her curiously but didn't stop its nibbling.

Anya managed a shaky laugh. Her lips were still trembling from the cold. “How did you wind up in here?”

The brownie's large, shiny gaze turned to the space under Anya's bed. It was made up with freshly laundered sheets, and the mess of throw pillows Anya would usually leave wherever they fell were arranged neatly to make an elegant sofa-back. She followed its gaze and crouched down to look underneath. Tucked behind the Plastic drawer where she kept her pajamas, there was her tote; empty of all its former contents, and undoubtedly being steadily filled with the creature's own personal touches. Anya sat up and shook her head bemusedly. “I guess I'm not getting that back?”

The creature hesitated for a moment, then resumed munching slowly, watching Anya closely.

“It's all yours,” she said, leaning on her bed to stand and then flinching back from it again.

Her bed looked like the coziest thing she could ask for, but she was still drenched and shivering. Anya looked around until the portable laundry machine caught her eye. She rushed over to it and removed the spinning basket and mechanism. Ensuring the plug was secure, she placed the bin in her shower and turned on the hot water. The pipes groaned and protested, but soon water streamed through the shower head, which Anya angled to fill the improvised bathtub.

She watched the water until she saw steam rising off of it. Then She peeled off her clothes leaving them in a heap on the tile floor and slipped herself into the bin. The water felt like it was burning at first, but she was already freezing, so she eased herself in and allowed her body to acclimate. In an upright fetal position, Anya's knees were barely submerged, and she had to hunch her shoulders to get them as close to the water's surface as she could. She left the shower head on allowing the water to continue pouring over her and closed her eyes.

Breathing the steam, she remembered Lily's words back at the bar about adding chamomile blossoms to bath water. She had some loose-leaf chamomile tea in her cabinet and was weighing the value of leaving the bath for even a moment when she heard a noise.

It was a knock or a bang, and worrying about whatever mischief the brownie might be getting into, she shut off the water and listened, looking about the room. Nothing seemed to be out of place, but the brownie was nowhere to be seen. Anya craned her neck around the shower wall the best she could, but she couldn't see her whole bed.

“Hello?” she called.

The door creaked open, and Anya shrank into her bath.

Sid peered around the open door and smiled. A gleam flickering from his eyes almost as soon as it had entered. “Hey there, Firefly,” he said, closing the door behind him. He was carrying a brown paper bag that bulged cylindrically. “You should really lock that.”

Anya smiled and sighed, rolling her eyes at him. He turned the deadbolt with a click. He glanced back her way before sliding the chain lock in place. “Rough night?” he asked, hanging his coat on the rack.

“Oh, you know,” Anya said leaning back in the bin. “Typical evening doing favors nobody technically asked me for, then thanklessly making my way home while quietly judging my life choices and evaluating my prospects. By the way,” Anya said brightly, holding up one finger, “I have none,” and dropped her hand with a splash. Her exposed shoulders shivered, and she adjusted herself in an attempt to get a little lower into the warm water. Sid smiled softly.

“I saw what you wrote,” he said. Anya sighed. “Can you really say your purpose in this era is 'Forest Guide'? I think the nearest forest is at least four hours by bus.”

“I don't mean a literal forest.” Anya held Sid's gaze. “Well, not anymore. You what they call this place?” Sid cocked an eyebrow. “The concrete forest!”

Sid gasped for melodrama, “Ah, you mean 'the concrete jungle' so you're going for the abstract interpretation?”

Anya sighed heavily heaping herself into the water. “I was always abstract. The rest of the world just went and made itself literal.”

Sid stood by the door at a loss for what to do next. Remembering his purpose, he moved for the kitchenette.

“I know what it means to be unappreciated. So, how about I start by thanking you properly?” Sid said and dramatically removed the paper bag from its charge, and Anya flinched. It was a bottle of brown liquor Anya didn't recognize, but it had a cork, so it must be good.

“And what am I to do with that?” she scoffed.

“I assume you have your favorite tea stashed somewhere in this,” he paused brow furrowed, “mess?” he finished looking over the clean cook space. “Did you clean?” He examined the kettle and filled it in the sink.

Anya scoffed. “I do clean,” Anya emphasized every syllable, but especially the word “do”.

Sid cocked his head as he flicked on the burner. “Explains the cold front,” he concluded. Eying her sideways, he grinned.

Anya fought to keep a straight face. “There's a box of loose-leaf ginger peach. Right, middle shelf, three drawers down.”

Sid's grin turned to a smirk, and he nodded. “So how was work?” Anya sighed heavily and sagged in the bin.

“Ope, nope. Forget I asked,” said Sid, rifling through the cabinets until he found a mug.

“Tea pot's in the top right,” Anya said watching him.

“Thank you.”

“Mmhm.” He popped the lid off the tin box of tea, and Anya smiled as his expression shifted the moment the fumes long trapped in the box wafted up to him.

“Nice,” he said.

Anya leaned her head back and stared up at nothing in particular, breathing the words, “My company decided that my role could easily be filled with the recent AI platform.”

Sid had a spoon and was measuring the tea leaves into the pot, but at Anya's words he stopped dead, and snapped his eyes to her, “I'm sorry to hear that... are you okay?” The kettle whistled, and he silenced it.

Anya shrugged and her shoulders shivered again. “I'm fine! I wasn't cut out for life in an office. I'll find something else.” She looked at him with a nod, and he smiled softly pouring boiling liquid into the tea pot and clacking the lid down quickly.

“Here,” he held up the kettle. “Move over.”

Anya did so, and Sid poured the rest of the hot water into the bin with her. Fresh warmth spread across Anya's skin, and her shoulders shivered jealously. “Thanks,” she said, and Sid's eyes darkened roguishly, but he kept smiling.

“We're not finished, yet,” he said, standing. He reached behind the shower wall and produced a clean hand towel from the shelf above Anya's bed. Squatting next to her again, he locked eyes with her as he dipped the towel into the water in front of her. Anya held his gaze keeping her breathing even. His eyes burned as though he was aching to say something. He removed the warmed towel and draped it over her shoulders. The gentleness returned to his eyes, which remained on hers a moment longer. He returned to the make-shift kitchen and filled her mug with tea. Popping the cork from his liquor bottle, he topped the mug off with a swirl bringing both with him to Anya's side.

“I don't drink it neat,” Anya explained politely.

“You always drink it neat,” Sid corrected, handing her the mug, and she gasped.

“Scoundrel!” she said as he sat on the floor next to her bin. He winked and took a swig from the bottle.

Anya cupped her mug in her hands. It was slightly warmer than her bath water. She sipped it gingerly, relishing the sweet spicy flavor. The liquor aided in spreading the warmth down her throat and all the way through her breast. “Damnit!” she hissed.

Sid snapped his attention to her and swallowed hard. She looked into his eyes.

“It's perfect,” she said, and Sid's smile returned.

“What were you expecting?” he said, sipping his bottle again. Anya reached out and nudged him with the back of her hand, and he leaned into it.

They talked and sipped their drinks until Anya's tea was finished, and her water temperature cooled past comfort. Her shivering resumed, and Sid brushed the towel from her shoulders, cupping them for a moment as he stared down at the water, and traced her collarbone. He stood, steadied himself on the shower wall, and produced a full-sized bath towel from the shelf. He looked down at Anya, holding the towel to his side, and offered her his other hand.