“What an absolute treat! How are you young fellows doing today?” Patrice, the aging principal of the high school, chimed in suddenly, materializing out of seemingly nowhere. It was rare her arrival went so unnoticed. It felt like an omen, further adding to Lyric's foreboding. She tried to shake it off.

“Mrs. Havenshire!” Augustine’s saccharine greeting coaxed a smile from the older woman. “How are you, ma’am?”

Meanwhile, River sipped his coffee in silence, flagrantly minding his own damn business as his gaze wandered to anything but the conversation.

“Much, much better now,” she giggled, the delight obscenely blatant in her gravelly tone. 

“Please, ma’am,” the captain insisted with a faux-pout that incurred a desire to punch him in the face. The attention had really gone to his head; he really thought he was cute or something. “It’s Augustine.”

“Yes, and what a distinguished name, at that,” she extolled.

“Ah, and doctor,” Mrs. Havenshire exhaled, resting a hand on her chest, as if preparing to deliver condolences. She cast her eyes downward, faintly shaking her head to further emphasize her unsolicited sympathy. “I heard about that car accident the other night. I was told the ER was hectic and you had your hands quite full. Delia Bonaham, my dearest friend, has been a trauma nurse there for decades. You probably know her.”

“Yes,” River confirmed. 

Mrs. Havenshire’s lips twitched as she stared at him expectantly, as if trying to will him to engage more with her mind. Lyric wasn’t sure what she had anticipated other than exactly what she had just gotten. The doctor did not seem inclined to speak more without further poking and prodding.

“W-well,” Patrice stammered, pushing on like a trooper, “it must be quite challenging working in such a small hospital. You’re responsible for the emergency room and general surgery. That must keep you rather busy.” 

River shrugged, staring into his half-empty coffee cup. “Most times.”

“My, my,” Mrs. Havenshire tsk’d several times, disapproving of the proverbial shackles his duties trapped him in, “it doesn’t seem like you have much time for yourself. How do you meet people? Don’t you get lonely? Or do you have a girlfriend?”

The principal seemed to be inching her way into very personal territory, and she was entirely unconcerned. She was going fishing, and she wasn't going to come home empty-handed.

“I’ve not seen you with anyone,” Patrice concluded, a hopeful glint in her eyes.  

“I meet plenty of people. Daily,” River corrected. Though his mask was steady, his tone had begun to sharpen. 

“Oh, Dr. Voss,” Patrice protested, “I mean more meaningful connections, like personal connections. Intimate relationships, or in the very least, friendships.”

For once, Dr. Voss seemed unable to respond. He was quite skillful when it came to hiding his emotions, but Patrice’s words had definitely stirred something deep within that he was struggling to control. Fortunately, Mrs. Havenshire did not allow him the chance to reply.

“Speaking of which, my daughter Julia—she’s twenty-two now—just flew in last night. You remember her, right? She’s been studying for law school, but they’re on break. I think you met her last summer, if I remember correctly, when she accidentally cut her finger,” Patrice said animatedly. “She’s smart, just like you, and very beautiful.”

“Yes,” River responded curtly, sipping his coffee again. “I recall.” 

His frosty gaze seemed to further harden into chips of ice, and Lyric could tell simply by looking at him that he wished the principal would just disappear. 

“Oh! Should I bring Julia with me tomorrow? Wait, no… She was feeling a bit under the weather when I picked her up at the airport. Well, I’ll be sure to bring her along once she’s feeling better. By the way, Dr., I forgot. How old are you again?”

“Twenty-nine.” River’s reply was clipped again, his smile cordial but constricted as he briefly glanced down at the principal. He was clearly trying to conceal the mounting irritation, his broad shoulders set in a very distinct way that seemed to make his armbands tighten around his upper arms. “At your daughter’s age, I was barely an adult.”

“Oh, you were in medical school at the time, were you not?” Patrice inquired. “That’s very grown-up, don’t you think? Like a future lawyer!”

The heat was clearly radiating right off the doctor in heaving waves; however, he was keen to remain in as much control as possible. Lyric had never seen him so agitated before, though she wasn’t too surprised considering how the principal was a master at getting under people’s skin. She almost admired that woman, so easily inciting the annoyance she wished she could.

“Appreciate the offer, Mrs. Havenshire,” River murmured, “but my attention is focused entirely elsewhere.”

“But, Dr. Voss, overworking yourself and never making time for a personal connections can really—”

River’s jaw tightened just before his pretty pink lips parted, and Lyric could sense the impending tidal wave of displeasure he was about to release. 

“Mrs. Havenshire,” Augustine intervened, an amicable curl in his lips, “Dr. Voss is a stubborn bastard. Please, forgive him. To be quite honest, I don't think he's interested in any kind of intimate or sexual relationship. He's a strange one."

“W-well,” the principal stammered, taken aback by the captain's brazenness, “it’s understandable, I think. He seems to be quite the busy man. Still, I say this just for your wellbeing, that if you could spare even just an hour of your time—”

“Mrs. Havenshire,” River sighed deeply, “your daughter is twenty-two. I’m nearly thirty.”

He stared down at her piercingly. When Patrice still did not recognize the meaning behind his words, River pressed on, slowly shedding his formal tone. “You see, I didn’t really ‘grow up’ until about twenty-six. Frankly, anyone younger is not an adult in my eyes. That includes your daughter."

The older woman tittered awkwardly, finally feeling the pressure of the surgeon’s discontent. “W-well… Julia is extremely mature for her age, especially since she’s studying to be a lawyer. If you talk to her sometime, maybe over some coffee, you wouldn’t even be able to tell—”

“Mrs. Havenshire”—River shot the sidelined barista an indecipherable look from the corners of his eyes, as if carefully measuring his next words—“I. Am not. Interested. Must I repeat myself for the hundredth time?"

“But if you met her just once—”

“I assure you,” the surgeon interjected, an edge creeping into his tone, “meeting her won’t change a thing. Your persistence won't change a thing. Just sto—”

“Relax, Voss.” Captain Frost tapped River on the back. “Maybe if you got laid more often—”

River’s jaw tightened as he bared his teeth, and Mrs. Havenshire expressed shock. “Frost—” 

Yep, Lyric thought, imagining the relief she’d feel if she could openly sigh just once. It’s time to intervene. 

“I guess I just barely graduated from my non-adult phase, then,” Lyric inserted jokingly, reminding them of the existence of others outside their bubble. She flashed her best fake smile, tilting her head innocently as she caught the trio’s attention. “Mr. Frost, would you like to order—”

“On the contrary,” Dr. Voss expressed promptly, gazing at the barista with a seriousness that made her chest twitch, “you are very much an adult.” 

For a moment, she lost control of her train-of-thought, and it nearly derailed. It wasn’t the first time he’d addressed her with a similar level of intensity, and she could never ascertain if he was mocking her or what.

“Oh, right,” Augustine apologized, though she wasn’t sure if it was genuine. He loved the attention, after all. “I apologize again, Ferosa.”

Lyric’s smile faltered. She found it difficult to fulfill her duty when he was so insufferable, and when he never listened. 

“You’re really carefree, aren’t you, Mr. Frost? You don’t really care much for other's opinions, much less their menial requests, huh?” Lyric strengthened her smile once more, but she couldn’t seem to make it reach her eyes. “That could upset a lot of people, you know?"

Augustine leaned forward slightly, across the counter. He smiled softly, though there was a glimmer of challenge and amusement in those steely eyes. “Stop calling me ‘Mr. Frost,’ and I’ll stop calling you ‘Ferosa,’” he bartered, though he didn’t seem particularly inclined to keep his end of the bargain.

The corner of Lyric’s lips twitched, and she could feel her smile dissolving faster than she could maintain it. As she opened her mouth to speak, feeling his name burning like vomit in the back of her throat, a hand appeared on his shoulder, roughly pulling him back. Startled, her gaze shifted. By this point, Dr. Voss appeared extremely displeased, though it wasnt clear what had triggered the finale of his emotions. 

“Stop,” River warned, his voice low. Captain Frost paused, narrowing his eyes slightly. Then, he smiled. 

“All right, geez,” Augustine relented. “A hot Americano. Biggest one you got.”

Lyric also found her mask once more thanks to the Dr.’s intervention. “Coming right up, sir.”

“Oh, God, sir,” he mumbled to himself as he swiped his card. Lyric smiled mischievously as she watched him saunter off to the pickup area with River. Lyric glanced at them briefly. Augustine seemed to be babbling about something he was unhappy about, as indicated by the frown on his normally jovial face. And River, well, he—

—was looking right at her. 

It was unintentional, but she flushed, glancing away quickly. She preferred the shadows, yet the surgeon’s attention always seemed to place her in a discomforting spotlight on a stage he’d set all for himself. She could never count the seconds fast enough until their departure. 

“And for you, Patrice,” Lyric continued, trying to refocus her attention and calm herself. “Your usual?”

Patrice nodded, hazel eyes alight in sparkling tones of green and yellow as she mechanically spouted off her lengthy drink order despite Lyric having committed it to memory. As hard as she tried to fight against it, Lyric couldn’t fully focus, her peripherals continually drifting back to River. She’d always viewed the captain as a whole, but when it came to River, she often found herself noticing even the tiniest of details. She couldn’t help it, as if it was ingrained in her. 

The cheap paper cup seemed so strangely brittle clasped within his massive hand, his long fingers wrapped firmly around the disposable vessel. He’d popped the hot lid off entirely, his upper lip dipping into the boiling, dark liquid each time he brought it to his mouth. She watched his lips move, articulating something to the captain, before he briefly glanced at his smartwatch. As they headed out the door, it felt like a weight had lifted off her shoulders, and she could finally breathe a soft sigh of relief. 

“Have you heard the news? Oh, my. It’s terrible.” Mrs. Havenshire asked, dropping her voice conspiratorially. Lyric shook her head, refocusing her attention. She was frequently out of the loop when it came to happenings around the world, opting to instead spend most of her time on random brainrot videos for fun. 

“About what?” Lyric prompted as she took the wrinkled twenty from the woman’s grasp.

Mrs. Havenshire cupped one hand over her mouth and leaned in. “The outbreak!” She glanced over her shoulder quickly, as if making sure no one was eavesdropping. “It’s getting really bad, apparently, and spreading fast. They say it’s worse than the pandemic a few years back. They’re thinking of shutting everything down again, but keeping everyone home. I hear essential personnel won’t even be a thing this time. That’s how bad it is.”

Lyric sighed. She hadn’t meant to, but she really couldn’t endure another health crisis of any scale. She just barely survived the other one because she’d been considered “essential,” but available work hours had been cut severely. She had to delve partly into unemployment to compensate for the crippling loss suffered as a habitual liver-of-paycheck-to-paycheck. Being a manager at a small café she didn’t even own really didn’t pay all too much, and it was difficult working a second job with the primary commitment she had as a manager. 

“Hopefully, that’s not the case,” Lyric replied, trying to remain somewhat cheerful. Patrice was a gossip. Every word from her mouth had to be taken with a grain of salt and she loved exaggerating for dramatic effect. 

“Hey, lady!” the man behind the principal snapped suddenly. “I gotta get to work and you’re yappin’ too much. If I don’t get my coffee before work, I’ll—”

“Don’t be rude!” Patrice shot back. “If you can’t wait, you could just, I don’t know, leave?”

Lyric hadn’t realized how rapidly the lobby had flooded with people; even the drive thru line was now wrapped around the building in a vice-like grip that trapped cars inside the parking lot. It sounded like a big city outside, with the angry yelling and loud horns blaring. Lyric could hear her crew rushing about behind her. Yet, here she was, chatting away like she had all the time in the world. She’d subconsciously blocked out the discord whilst dealing with Patrice.

“Here’s your change, Mrs. Havenshire. Your coffee will be out in just a moment.” Lyric gestured toward the end of the service counter, subtly prompting her to move on. 

“Well, if it does get worse, just be safe, Lyric,” Patrice warned, leaving a tangible tension in her wake. Lyric cleared her throat, brushing off the ominous parting before waving down the next customer. She couldn’t afford to become anxious over hearsay, least of all not when it came from the most unreliable source in town. Patrice had a terrible habit of exaggerating and this could all be some giant misunderstanding on her part. After all, nothing could possibly top the pandemic they’d survived years prior.

Absolutely nothing.