^^ Amber ^^

--- Amber's POV ---

My Saturday started out pretty much the same as always. That is to say, completely shitty.

First, as always, my trusty alarm woke me an hour early, at 03:00. Then, my hair dryer decided to change jobs, and sucked in some of my hair, scorching it beyond all recognition, and forcing me to give my long black hair a quick, but professional, 'Pixie Cut'. (Which worked for me, less to get in my way, and it would grow back before the week was out, because my hair was crazy like that.)

Then, the keys to my rusty A-B car snapped inside the lock, forcing me to crawl in through the permanently unlocked back window, and through the storage locker that was my back seat.

I made it to work about on time, only three minutes late, and after a half hour lecture on tardiness from my lecher of a manager, Parry, (who deemed it necessary to have his hand on my waist the entire time to 'keep my attention',) I got to work.

Making coffee wasn't a terrible job, really, if you didn't mind random, harmless, constant, and completely infuriating burns on your wrists and hands every time someone bumped into you because 'they didn't see you there'. Wonderful work, really. Decent pay, too, at $100 a day, for a 10 hour shift. Yay me.

Around noon is when my day started to change for both the better and worse, simultaneously.

I carefully handed the piping hot cup to the middle-aged woman, who had ordered simply the most complicated coffee I've ever even heard of. But I'd gotten it perfect, I was sure of it.

As I turned to walk away, the dreaded sound came from behind me of her spluttering, and then complaining. I turned and adopted a kind, understanding expression, my standard customer service expression, and nodded placatingly.

"Of course I'll work up your brew perfectly, miss, and pay for your coffee, we at Jacks Coffee House are terribly sorry for the inconvenience." I said easily, holding my credit card, (which rarely saw use other than these situations,) and retreated a step, only to bump into what felt like a very warm wall, just as she exploded about my apparently terrible customer service.

Giant hands steadied me, eliminating any and all trace of her voice from my mind, and a rather meek voice rumbled out from a point about a foot above my head... in the middle of his chest. "Excuse me..."

He read my name tab, glorious chocolate eyes squinting slightly at my slim chest, yet not lecherously, like most people. He cleared his throat, and stepped back one giant stride, so I didn't have to look way up at him. "Are you alright, miss... Caitlyn?"

I cleared my throat, and then gasped. His steaming, (fire-roasted vanilla scented, I thought on a random tangent,) drink was spread across the white shirt that hugged his massive chest, each piece of his eight pack so clearly visible-

"Oh gods I'm so sorry I'm staring-let me help you clean that up, take that off it must be so hot-" I started freaking out, worried I'd injured a customer, but he simply stood there, completely fine as the coffee steamed off of him quickly like it had never been there, leaving only the massive stain on his no-doubt extremely expensive shirt.

He chuckled, stopping my babbling. "No, I'm fine. Are you?" He smiled a wide smile, and then looked behind me, at the woman who was still, somehow, yelling at me.

His expression didn't change in the slightest, not even the happy glint in his eyes, but her voice stuttered to a full halt, completely silencing itself, plus the choked gasp that took its place.

I turned, and the previously flushed woman was as pale as powder. She then bowed her head, surprising me as she lowered her head below my eye-line, (which, of course, is hard as all hell when you're 5 feet tall and everyone around you is at least 6 or more.) "My apologies, miss. I will be on my way, of course. Thank you for the coffee, I apologize again for the scene, and any distress I've brought you. Good day, Sir, miss." She said meekly, and took her coffee, stiffly walking out.

"Are you some sort of person she works for? Because that was weird." I said softly, not exactly to him, but directed at him all the same.

He chuckled again. "No, I do know her though. She was reminded I don't like people to be rude for no reason. I like people to have... perspective. Would she have mDe your mistake? Did you even make a mistake? My presence made her re-think her actions, that's all." He shrugged one massive shoulder.

"Well thank you, and I'm really sorry about your shirt, sir. I'd offer to replace it, but... it's probably worth more than my car." I sighed.

"No, it's just a tank from my closet. Nothing fancy. And don't worry about it." He smiled, and hummed. "How long have you worked here, if I may ask?"

"Hmm... maybe... 4 months?" I nodded. "Sounds right."

"And... you've accumulated that many burns?" He raised an eyebrow at my hands.

"I'm... easily misplaced. People don't see me until it's too late. I'm not a klutz, I swear." I sighed softly.

He smiled. "The thought didn't cross my mind... word of advice? Wear heals. Trust me, it will get you attention and respect if you carry yourself like you already own them. Word of the wise."

Before I could answer that the day I wore heels would be the day they put me in a pine box, when I couldn't stop them, my lovely manager finally managed to bustle over, and of course immediately started fussing at me about the failed order, and everything else, because it was all my fault, of course. I kept my customer face on, and tuned him out with my only, (and most useful,) super-power.

Selective. Hearing.

His face settled into a frown when he realized I wasn't listening to a damn thing he was saying, and he sighed. The bastard had the balls to assume a wounded look, like he was disappointed in me. "Alright. Fine. Clearly you've got no care for what I'm saying. Your apron." He held out a hand simply.

I nodded, and smiled for real this time, clasping my hands behind my back so I didn't punch him in the throat. "Right, then... just Three things I've got to say. One: I bought this myself, so take that hand out of my face before I rip it off."

He flinched, retracting his hand. "How rude! Why, I don't know why you would speak to me this way, I've only given you a thousand chances-"

I plowed through his words. "Two: I am so happy you fired me, because that means I get severance, which was all that was keeping me from quitting. And finally, Three: If I hear you put your grubby, lecherous little hands on any single one of the girls here, I swear to every single god in the heavens that I will come back, and I will rip off your tiny balls, then flay your pathetic excuse for a manhood like a fucking origami flower. Have I been perfectly fucking clear?" I was now standing so close to him that his nose was almost touching mine, and my golden eyes bored into his like drills.

He trembled like the coward he was, and tried to step back, only to bump into my apparently friendly giant, (who hadn't moved an inch, but had managed to be ignored twice now, a curious power indeed,) and was now staring way down at the man whose head reached his diaphragm with a look that could freeze hell itself with one Smiting Glance.

He gently moved the man to the side, his expression, voice, and actions once again very much at odds. "Easy... I would not advise angering any woman, but especially small women. They are always far more dangerous than they appear. Good evening Miss Amber. I hope you have a wonderful night free of this... place." He winked and walked out, whistling a haunting tune that shook me to my bones. In a good way... Mostly.

"How did you know my-... what's your name, then?" I challenged him, and crossed my arms.

He looked over his shoulder, laughing a deep, rolling laugh that echoed in my bones like his whistling, making my chest ache. "Ah. How rude of me. I have been named Magnus. And your real name is written on your credit card." He winked.

I tsk'ed. "Ah. Right. Perceptive man, you are." I chuckled.

He just smiled a warm smile, bowed his head, and walked away, starting up that tune again.

I sighed and cracked my neck, glaring around at Parry, which made him jump slightly. "I'd better get every cent of my severance, you sanctimonious lecher." I snapped.

---

I giggled and skipped my way into my second job, and twirled a bit for the bartender, my favorite Gay Aussy, Jackson. (He was actually from New Zealand, but claimed to have been born in Melbourne, and got very prickly when questioned further, so we didn't poke him too much about it.)

He gasped. "No fuckin' way, love!"

"Free at last, and got severance! Not much, but I only worked maybe four months." I shrugged, smiling.

He laughed loudly, and slapped the inch-thick marble bar, making it shake, something no one else had ever managed in my living memory.

Jackson was just special that way, which made this the safest place for any woman to work, because everyone knew that no one did anything remotely stupid in Jackson's bar, the Dancing Fairy. Yeah. I'm serious. He has a lovely sense of humor.

I twirled again. "Davaj, one half shot of vodka before I begin my shift to celebrate, Jackie!" I laughed and hopped way up onto a bar stool.

He smiled. "Alright, but only because that stupid little lech is out of your life. Don't know why you never let me sort him, or learn him some manners. The pay was horrid anyway, yeah? I never did get why you stayed."

"The tips were good." I nodded seriously. "That is literally the only reason. Bunch of rich white chicks want their coffee, and spend daddies money any way they please, and, if you're really good... a tip and number for the Pixie Barista." I winked mischievously.

He frowned. "I hate when you call yourself that."

I smiled and reached way over, patting his cheek. "I know. But the hair fits, eh?" I shook it for his inspection.

He nodded. "Well done, yes. You should definitely keep it that way for a few days. Lovely, as always. And much less for the gremlins to pull." He said seriously, and poured me the half shot.

I smiled. "Of course. Lovely thought, isn't it?"

"Drinking on the job? How ever can I punish you enough..." Jacob, Mike's husband, hugged him, pretending to bite his neck, laughing.

I giggled and watched them play for a bit, before I tossed back my shot, and threw on my apron. "Alright. Where am I needed? Tables, kitchens... Bouncing undesirables through the door, through sheer force of will... and some sass?" My mischievous grin flashed, showing him I was joking about the last one.

Jackson took a short break from his hubbie's lips to laugh sarcastically and slide a platter over. "Haha yes funny, I need you at Tables, love, Miranda is late as usual. And please... don't break any glass. Please." He held my gaze for a moment, sighing to augment the slight growl that had filled his voice for a split second.

I bowed my head, hiding. "I said Sorry..."

"My favorite mug, love. That disaster will never repeat itself. Ever." He shook his head. "Just do your best my dear, I do understand, people don't pay attention enough, it's not all you. Go on. Rush hour is starting." He nodded at the people flowing in as if on cue, like he'd given them a signal.

Jacob blew me a kiss and flitted back into the kitchen with a grace and speed I wished I possessed outside of a ballet studio.

I straightened my shirt, buttoned another button to hide my non-existent cleavage, (a sore point for me, short girls rarely have nice breasts... or any at all,) and started walking, taking orders and seating in the restaurant.

Luckily, it was also a gay bar, (though anyone was welcome,) and so the clientele were mostly kinder than other places, though there were a few rougher ones, which Jackson of course always handled quickly and efficiently.

And my shift was off.

---

I sat down slowly, looking around, then looked at Jackson and Jacob, who were staring at me. "I... don't understand. Wow." I said softly.

They nodded slowly, and surveyed the room again. Everything was in its place, the peacocks and lovely little lesbians and cougars and hopeful straight men were all laughing, happy, drinking a healthy amount...

But no one was complaining, no one was being a prick, and there was absolutely no broken glass on the ground. The floors were clean, the picture frames, forever getting crooked from people bumping the wall, were perfectly level.

It was-

"Unnatural. What bar has no... odd edges?" Jacob asked softly, as if to keep the atmosphere subtle.

Jackson hummed, and looked at me. "Babe... did you perchance meet a leprechaun?" He asked, completely serious, as always.

I sighed. "No time for jokes, Jackie. This is weird enough already... I only met one person today, and he's... definitely, not small and I'm pretty sure he doesn't wear green coats. He also had brown hair."

He raised an eyebrow slowly. "His name?"

"Magnus Sjöllson." A deep, warm voice said behind me, before a massive bicep entered my view as his hand reached easily across the bar. (Show-ll-son)

I smiled. "You stalking me, luv?"

He laughed loudly, and it was like an imperceptible tension shattered, and the entire room immediately returned to its normal ways, much to my and Jacob's noted chagrin. "No, no. I was told I had to check out the 'Dancing Faerie' while I was in town, so here I am. Pure coincidence, miss Amber, I swear it upon my arm ring." He nodded at the gleaming piece of iron that encircled his right bicep... barely.

Jackson shook his hand. "Then I'm Jackson Donfell, this is my husband, the lovely Jacob Saracen-Donfell. Welcome, sir. Lovely to have you. But... you're aware this is mostly a..." he stopped, unsure of how to word his question.

"Gay bar? Yes. Always better than regular bars. The people are much more interesting." Magnus brushed the issue aside, and smiled down at me.

I frowned. "If you continue to stand over me, no matter how cute you are, or how nice, I will Un-Man you." I snapped.

He blinked and stepped to the side, and sat on a barstool. "My apologies, my dramatic entrance seems to have backfired. Please, forgive me. I meant no insult." He bowed his head gently, and then smiled.

I released my frown, returning to my natural smile. "Alright. Forgiven. Now I must be getting back to work, orders won't take themselves!" I pranced back into the crowd, losing sight of the massive man and the bartender.

---

After around four more hours, my feet were sore to the bone, but I had collected more tips in one night than I had ever seen. Miranda had come in as well almost as soon as I re-entered the thick of things, and after that, things leveled out reasonably well.

I sat her down and forced her to share my tips, counting and giving her half of the pool. "Ah! Just bring in baby David for a few minutes one day, I'll call it square." I snapped, poking her nose.

She smiled. "He'd like that. He loves seeing you, Amber, you always know how to make him smile."

"Was he sick tonight as well? Have you had him checked with a doctor?" I asked softly, leaning closer.

She nodded, sighing, and rubbed her ankles. "The doctor says he's fine, it's... well, it's because of what the father is. Causes... complications."

I raised an eyebrow. "I knew you didn't get on well with him, but calling him an 'it'? Cold, luv! He been around again, stirring dust?" I growled softly.

She held up her hands. "No! No, I just... no. He hasn't been around. He doesn't even know about David, and that's how I'd like it to stay. But... I meant his... blood type. He's an AB+, which is very rare, and means he has a host of health issues, it just comes with the territory. He got that from his father, and that's what I meant." She explained, and then slipped her heels back on. "Alright... speaking of, I've got to get back to him. The sitter will be leaving soon." She smiled.

I nodded and kissed her cheeks. "Alright. You call if you need anything, yeah?"

"Of course, luv. But... gods, I hate walking through these streets, you know? I never feel safe outside this place. I got mugged last time, you know? Jackson handled it, sure, but still." She shivered.

Magnus looked over, and I got the idea he'd been politely ignoring us until she said that, as his eyes, (which I hadn't been staring at out of the corner of my eye, at all,) went straight from happy, and warm, to 'Mine is the Fury'.

His gaze flicked to me, and he smirked gently, before looking at her again. "I will walk you to your domicile, miss Miranda. You need not fear with me."

She blushed. "I couldn't possibly-"

"I must insist. Jackson has called in a favor I owe him." He shook his head and looked at Jackson, who nodded, grinning.

"Ooh, yeah. You'll be as safe as a safe in a bank next to him. I dare a mugger even sniff you around him. I'd sell his execution video by the truckload." He said smugly.

Magnus smiled again. "Indeed. Then, miss Miranda? Would you like to depart, or do you need a moment to gather yourself?"

She blushed even harder, her freckles blending perfectly, and stood, stuffing my tips I'd given her in her purse. They barely fit, which made me smile.

"Perfect night for a little protection, I'd say." Jacob commented dryly.