— vingt-huit ; twenty eight —

"THAT'LL BE SEVEN FIFTY dollars, please."

Henri wanted to cringe at the fake politeness of his tone but settled for a plastic smile towards the customer who had just ordered a gin and tonic. It wasn't as if he was being purposefully fake — he'd been using his normal voice until Liza told him he needed to seem friendlier and warmer, as if was actually happy to see these random strangers. He sucked it up only because he considered it good practice for when the cameras finally managed to rope him into an interview.

It was a Tuesday and only nine, so Matt's Bar wasn't busy at all. Liza had disappeared into the storage room at the start of his shift and he was the only one left manning the bar. It was the most chilled shift he'd been called in for, if not a little boring, and he didn't even mind that he had to stay until two in the morning. The lack of customers and watching eyes meant he could sneak a drink every so often and still get paid for doing pretty much nothing.

There was a bang of the door and Zena suddenly rushed behind the bar, looking frazzled and wet from the downpour outside. "Sorry I'm late," she said, tossing down her bag with a cursory glance. "I mean, I could blame the rain, but I just overslept."

Henri raised an eyebrow. "At nine in the evening?"

"Never underestimate the importance of naps for a college student. Where's Liza?" she asked, glancing around. "More importantly, does she know I'm late?"

"She's been in the back since I got here."

"Cover for me?" she asked.

"Sure."

"Owe you one," she said gratefully.

"Don't you already owe me one for filling in as your fake boyfriend?" Henri pointed out.

"Hey, I paid you for that."

"True," Henri said, with mock thoughtfulness. "Maybe I should take up that role permanently to pay the rest of my college tuition."

"Don't get cheeky," Zena said, rolling her eyes with a smile as she headed down the bar to take orders from a group that had just arrived.

Henri watched her toss her curls up into a messy bun as she tapped out the drinks ordered into the cash machine and thought about the fact that she had hooked up with his brother. Obviously most of the Ravens he lived with had also known Jean, but this felt different — Zena had clearly known him well enough for her roommate to know about him, which was more than Henri could ever say. He could have asked Soren anything he wanted to know, but the answer would have been blunt and short because he'd made it clear he didn't like Jean. Zena would be able to give him a different kind of insight.

"So," Henri said, later in the evening when they finally had a chance for conversation while making drinks. "You and Jean."

She slanted a look at him. "You really wanna talk about that?"

"I'm just curious." Henri poured alcohol into the cocktail mixer and gave it a shake. "Was that a one night stand, or something more serious?"

"That depends," she said, amused. "You want every single detail?"

He grimaced. "Uh, no. Please don't give me every single detail."

"Why do you care so much, anyway? I kiss you out of nowhere and ask you to play along, you don't even bat an eyelid," she said. "You find out I had a thing with your brother once and you can't let it go."

"It's not that. I just..." Henri ran his fingers across the cool surface of the tumbler in his hands. "What do you know about us?"

"About you? Nothing, considering Jean thought he was an only child when I knew him."

"Exactly. I never knew him. For whatever brief time you did know him, it was more than I've had. Not that it matters," Henri added, feeling strangely self-conscious at his words. It wouldn't be considered particularly personal for anyone else but it was still more than he'd ever admitted out loud before and he wasn't sure why Zena was the person he was saying it to. "I don't even know him."

"But he's still your brother." Zena studied him with shrewd brown eyes and Henri felt a little like he was being dissembled piece by piece before her eyes. "Jean was very focused. That's the first thing that anyone would say about him — his only goal was Exy and he wouldn't allow time for anything else in his life. He was upfront with me from the start that I would never be his priority and it was my choice whether I wanted to do anything anyway. I respected that he was honest about it, but it would never make for a relationship."

Henri couldn't help thinking the description sounded a little too much like Soren. They both clearly shared the same passion verging on obsession for Exy, so it didn't make sense that they wouldn't have gotten along. Maybe the difference lay in that they were too similar — they probably clashed heads one too many times to have ever found common ground.

"Was there something else you wanted to know?" Zena prompted.

"Oh. No," Henri said, realising he hadn't responded. He poured out the cocktail he'd put together and slid it down the bar towards the woman who ordered it before turning to Zena. "Thank you."

She smiled. "You're a strange kid, you know that?"

"I did know that. Any particular reason you're bringing it up now?"

"Instead of actually reaching out to Jean, you ask one of his exes about him," she mused. "I still have his number, you know."

Henri was shaking his head before she finished speaking. "I don't want it." He didn't bother mentioning he already had it, that Soren had taken the liberty of putting it into his phone before he handed it over to him — it made no difference either way. He wasn't calling Jean. Not now, not ever.

"No, I didn't think you would." Zena gave him one last appraising look and chuckled. "Strange kid, alright."

Someone called his name from down the bar and Henri turned, expecting one of the Ravens. Instead, it was a vaguely familiar face that took him a couple of seconds to place and he wished he hadn't when he finally did. It was the man from a couple of weeks ago, mid twenties and straw-haired who'd gotten touchy feely when Henri refused to play along with his perverted flirting. It wasn't strange to see the same faces again, patrons who came back as regulars, but this man had remembered his name from hearing it once ages ago. That was enough to put him on edge.

"You know him?" Zena asked, following Henri's gaze. "He looked a little too old to be a friend, but you always have those Ravens coming and going. I figured he was just one of them."

"No," Henri said, with a dry mouth. "I don't know him. Just some creep who hit on me once."

"Shit, really?" Henri glanced at her at the alarm in her voice and she bit her lip. "He asked after you, a few days ago. Wanted to know when you worked shifts."

"You didn't tell him, did you?"

"I told him I didn't know," Zena said. "You work zero hours, so you don't have a schedule. Which is fucking good. I assumed he was a friend because he knew your name."

Henri looked back at the man and knew without a doubt the last thing he wanted to do was talk to him. He liked to think he was fairly professional when it came to dealing with unsavoury customers, but this guy freaked him out. He didn't know why and he didn't want to find out why through conversation.

"Want me to deal with him?" Zena offered, seeming to sense Henri's hesitation.

"Please," he replied gratefully. "Consider yourself no longer indebted to me."

"Don't sweat it. I know firsthand how unnerving it can be when you have to deal with weirdos like that. Fuck this place," she muttered under her breath.

She gave him a pat on the shoulder as she passed and seeing as there weren't any other customers waiting to be served, he had nothing to do but watch. There seemed to be some kind of disagreement between them in which Zena pointed to the menu and the man shook his head, only to look straight at Henri. He gritted his teeth and pulled his phone out just to avoid his gaze. His first instinct was to text Soren to come here, so he had someone to use as an excuse to stay away, but Soren had been vocal in his dislike of Matt's Bar and would just end up saying something to piss Zena off. There was also the fact he most likely wouldn't come out so late, when they had classes and practice the next day.

His next choice turned up fifteen minutes later, with Lucas and Loren in tow. Kit's blue gaze instantly sought out Zena, who'd managed to appease Henri's creepy stalker and was dealing with another customer, with the same lovestruck dreaminess it always did. It was possible Henri had mentioned Zena in the text in order to appeal to Kit, and it had clearly been successful. He was still gazing in Zena's direction when the three of them slid into stools at the bar.

"The usual?" Henri asked, grabbing three glasses. "That being two lemonades and one beer."

"Maybe I'll switch it up today," Lucas said thoughtfully. "I'll have a coke instead."

Henri rolled his eyes. "Really living life on the wild side there, Lucas."

"Hey, has Zena ever talked about me?" Kit wondered, finally dragging himself back to their conversation. "I don't know, mentioned me in the passing or something?"

"No. What?" Henri shrugged, at Loren's chastising look. "There's no point bullshitting him. It won't spare his feelings in the end."

"I have no idea how to get her attention," Kit sighed. "I don't even think we have anything in common."

"She's a Ravenette." Henri topped up the glasses with the different beverages and slid them across the bar. "You have Exy in common, I guess. Not that she seems to care that much about Exy."

"She is?" Lucas asked, surprised. "She doesn't look like a cheerleader."

"She's just doing it for an extracurricular," Loren explained.

Kit's eyes lit up. "That's perfect! I can use that as an excuse to start a conversation and then we lead into something that ends with me asking out on a date. Shit, here she comes."

He took a ridiculously big gulp of his beer just as Zena approached, looking extremely disgruntled. "That creepy guy who knows your name? Yeah, he's an asshole, too," Zena said, not seeming to notice the intent wide eyes Kit was watching her with. "He said he wanted to be served by you and when I explained I was his server tonight, he threw a hissy fit. He only calmed down when I told him he could either be served by me or get the hell out."

Henri didn't want to show shaken he was by that and smirked. "What was that about always being polite to the customer?"

"Would you like me to go and apologise on my behalf?" Zena asked sarcastically.

"I think I'll pass on that."

"What's this about a creepy guy?" Lucas demanded, looking more freaked out than Henri would expect considering it had nothing to do with him.

"Just a random customer who tried to hit on me a while ago," Henri said dismissively. "He came back tonight and I wasn't in the mood to deal with him. It's not a big deal."

Loren looked at him in disbelief. "Not a big deal? You need to report him. It's bad enough that he knows your name."

"What, him and every other weirdo that tries something?" Henri felt a little like he was trying to convince himself too. He didn't want to make a big deal out of this, just because it was something he wasn't accustomed to. This man hadn't actually done anything to him yet. He was probably just bored and desperate. "It's fine, Loren. It's not like I'd ever give him anything personal he could use and I know how to defend myself."

"He's not wrong," Kit said, shooting glances at Zena as if slowly working up the courage to say something. "So — "

"Shit, new customer," Zena groaned, not even noticing Kit's pitiful attempt at starting a conversation. "I've got this one. I'll take anyone as long as it isn't that loser."

Kit slumped against the bar when she had disappeared. "What's the point?" he said miserably.

"Of what?" Lucas asked.

"Living," he mumbled.

"Stop being so dramatic. It's not like she turned you down," Henri said, pouring out another beer and sliding it towards Kit. "Here, have this one on the house. Hopefully it'll stop your moping."

Kit immediately perked up. "Seriously? Cheers, dude."

"I don't think you're taking that guy coming back here for you seriously enough, Henri," Loren frowned.

Henri groaned. "Can you just drop that already?"

"Does Soren know?"

"No," Henri said. "Why the hell would I tell him?"

"Isn't he your boyfriend?" Lucas asked dubiously. "Or something?"

"Yeah, I was meaning to ask about that," Kit said, looking at Henri accusingly. "When the hell were you going to tell us about you and Soren? I feel betrayed. I figured when you made all your death threats towards the team, we weren't included. Now I'm questioning everything I believed about our friendship."

"You really are unbelievably dramatic," Henri scoffed. "I didn't tell you because there's nothing to tell."

"Yeah, okay," Kit snorted. "That's why he made out with you in front of the whole team."

"There's nothing to tell, because he isn't my boyfriend. We aren't dating."

"Then what?" Lucas wondered. "Friends with benefits?"

"I guess."

Henri didn't want to talk about it because he wasn't sure himself exactly what the deal was between him and Soren. Friends with benefits should have been the perfect label, and it probably was for Soren, but Henri wasn't so sure it was still no strings attached for him. He didn't have to worry about it if he didn't have to think about it, but he knew he couldn't avoid his feelings forever. Every kiss, every touch, he dug his own grave a little deeper and would only fall farther when Soren finally pulled the rug out from under him. Not liking the turn his thoughts were taking, he poured out a glass of whiskey and downed it before Zena could notice.

"I thought you didn't drink," Lucas said.

Henri felt the alcohol burn down his throat. "I don't."

"That's what they all say," Kit smirked.

They stuck around until eleven, when Lucas pointed out they had to be up for practice the next day. Henri still had three hours left of his shift and they dragged on for longer than he wanted, a blur of drinks and money and small talk he couldn't be bothered with. He got through it by thinking about the money he'd be handed by the end, tucked away safely with the rest of the cash he had hidden in the room. He had managed to accumulate enough now that he was considering opening up a bank account for it, rather than stuffing cash bundles at the back of his wardrobe. Henri might be reckless about a lot of things, but money wasn't one.

"I'm off," Henri said, grabbing his jacket from the door on his way out of the storage room. It would be October soon and the night air was chilly enough to need it.

Zena looked up from where she was wiping down the bar. "See you next time."

Henri stepped outside of Matt's Bar and tucked his wage for the evening in a zippered section of his jacket, making sure to do the zip up. He didn't trust the kind of people on the streets at this time. He was about to begin the ten minute walk to Castle Evermore when someone cleared their throat behind him. Henri turned and his blood ran cold. It was the man, who'd asked after him and Henri had dismissed as unimportant. His lips curved up in a creepy smile that sent shivers down his spine, despite himself, and Henri wondered exactly how long he'd been waiting out here for Henri's shift to end. It wasn't a comforting thought.

"Hello there," the man said, reclining back against the lamppost. Lewis, he'd said his name was. "It's been a while, hm?"

"What do you want?" Henri demanded.

"What do you think?"

"Fuck off," Henri snapped. "Leave me alone."

"Now, now, is that any way to speak to a customer?"

"I'm not working, which means you're no longer a customer to me." Henri slipped his hand into his pocket and glared at Lewis. "I won't say it again. Leave me alone."

"But I don't want to leave you alone, Henri," Lewis said, and Henri took an instinctive step back. There were few people he was scared of in this world and he hated that this random creep was managing to be one. "Shouldn't we get to know each other better?"

"Fuck. Off." Henri whipped his phone out of his pocket and warded him off with the glowing screen to show the dial 911. "Or I'll call the police right now."

Lewis held his hands up in surrender. "Fine, you win. No need to get worked up. Until next time," he added, his smile widening, before he slipped back into the shadows.

Henri didn't move for a full minute, gripping his phone tightly and waiting to see whether he had really left. When he was convinced he wasn't about to be jumped the second he turned his back, he finally left Matt's Bar with jumpy nerves and his pulse kicked into overdrive for the entire walk back. Even when he was finally within the safety of Castle Evermore's blacks walls, his heart was still racing.

— — — —

Henri stabbed himself in the arm with his pen for what felt like the hundredth time and tried in vain to force his heavy eyes open. The girl sitting next to him kept shooting him strange looks, no doubt questioning his mental stability, but it was the only way he could make himself focus on his History professor's lecture. Even then, he was fairly certain he hadn't learnt a single thing from any of his classes today. It wasn't the first time he'd had to get through a day of classes after a late shift, but he'd lain in bed for what felt like hours after his encounter outside Matt's Bar trying not to think about it. He had probably managed a grand total of two hours before he was dragged awake for practice.

Henri was fairly certain he'd fallen asleep against his hand for a few minutes before the slap of paper against the desk startled him awake. He yawned into his palm and blinked blearily down at his most recent essay, or more specifically, the giant red D scrawled on the front.

"Not good enough." His professor looked less than pleased. "Don't sleep during my lectures and maybe you won't do so bad, hm?"

Henri grimaced and couldn't have been more grateful when the bell went off. He grabbed the essay and headed out to see Soren leaning against the wall, waiting for him to walk back to afternoon practice. He started walking with little more than a cursory glance and Henri fell in step beside him.

"So, I'm failing history," Henri sighed, yanking open his bag to stuff the essay down to the bottom where it would quickly be forgotten. "Guess I'm just too good at getting the D."

Soren looked thoroughly unimpressed. "Never say those words again."

"What, can't I joke about my failures?"

"If you could even call that a joke." Soren snatched the essay from his hand before it could be shoved out of sight and mind. He frowned down at the page filled with Henri's messy scribbles, drowned out by red marks. "This isn't good enough."

"Sorry, mother," Henri said sarcastically. "I'll make sure to put in more effort and hand in my report card for the end of term."

"I'm serious, Henri." Soren looked irritated as he slapped the essay against Henri's chest, with more force than necessary. "This isn't a joke."

"Who gives a shit about some grade?" Henri said in disbelief. "I didn't think you did. Playing for the Ravens means the end goal is Exy, and I don't exactly have a choice in that — "

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Too late, Henri realised his mistake. "It means I don't have a choice but to make a national team when I graduate and I can't do that if I'm wasting my time over college. Classes are just something irrelevant I have to put up with."

"Maybe they're irrelevant, but that doesn't mean they're unnecessary," Soren said. "You are aware they take you off the team if you can't maintain a minimum of a passing grade in all your subjects?"

Henri stopped in his tracks and stared at him. "What?"

"Yeah, dumbass." Soren also stopped and glared at him. "Does it seem so funny to you now?"

Henri turned his gaze down on the essay in his hands, which suddenly felt far heavier than it had seconds ago. He'd been half-assing his way through his assignments and classes, barely paying attention in any of them besides art, which was the only slightly interesting one for him. He hadn't thought any of it mattered and yet if he did so badly he had to sit out of games, he didn't want to think about the wrath the Master would bring on him.

"Fuck," Henri muttered, sticking the essay in his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "What the hell am I supposed to do?"

"Actually put some effort in, for once."

"I don't have time for that," Henri said.

"Quit the job, then."

"No."

Soren turned and continued walking. "Hope you enjoy the view of the court from the benches."

"Hold up, wait. Soren," Henri said, jogging to catch up with him. "You take history too, don't you?" Henri remembered because it was the only subject the two of them shared.

"So?"

"You're good at it," Henri said pointedly. "And I'm not."

"I'm not writing your essays for you, if that's what you're trying to get at."

"That's not what I'm trying to get at," Henri said defensively. "History is the only class I'm failing, because it confuses me. All the dates and treaties and that thing with the different German Putsch's. I don't get it but I'm sure if someone explained it properly to me — "

"You want me to tutor you?" Soren interjected.

"Ideally...yes."

Henri was expecting a flat out refusal and snuck a glance at him from the corner of his eye when he was met with a considering silence. "And what do I get out of it?" Soren said finally.

Henri smirked. "I think you already know the answer to that."

"Elaborate."

"What, here?" Henri cast a glance about them, at all the students milling about campus around them. "I mean, if you insist—"

Soren placed a hand against his chest to stop him in his tracks when Henri moved as if to take a step towards him, returning Henri's smirk with a flat look. He thought about it for a couple more seconds before heaving a sigh, and Henri knew he'd won. "No complaining or whining," Soren warned. "You shut up and listen to what I have to say. If I think you're not trying hard enough, or you waste my time, I'll lock you out of the bedroom for a week."

"Like hell you would. But thank you," Henri added, smiling despite himself. "I suppose you're not a complete asshole."

Soren's only response was to flick him in the forehead.