In an Absent-Minded Second

"Woah, hold up!"

The glass Lydia has picked up is suddenly snatched out of her hand by the bartender. "I totally mixed the wrong drink for you. Let me make you a new one. On me."

Lydia rolls her head, drawing back to protest, only she stops at his widening eyes, a clear attempt to communicate something.

The guy she's been flirting with isn't watching her, but the glass that hasn't been poured out. Instead, the bartender has placed it on an empty shelf. His face is a little twisted. "Look, if it's going to go to waste, I'll take it."

"Oh it's no trouble," the bartender adds, a sharp look in his eye. "What was your name, by the way? Steve? Nathan?"

"William," he says, as if unsure.

"I thought you said it was David." Lydia adds, in a sweet tone with steel beneath it. The man makes a few non-committal noises as he slinks away.

Lydia catches the bartender's sleeve before he can escape. "What was that about?"

The man shrugs. "I saw him put something in your glass. I mean, I could've made a mistake, but better safe than sorry. His reaction makes me glad I did it, though."

"Here, pass the drink back over. If it's Rophenol my nail polish will turn black."

"And mess up that manicure?" He smiles at her. "I have a better idea. Yo, Derek!"

"What." The buff, brooding man a few seats down barely changes his expression.

"Start a bar fight over there." The bartender gestures vaguely towards "David," who is now cozy-ing up to another girl.

"Why?"

"Because that's what I'm paying you for? You'll like this one anyway. I need you to get some drugs off the dude."

Derek looks between Lydia and the bartender, his gaze glancing at the shelf with her confiscated drink. "Seriously? You always ask me to do these ones."

"Well fine. I'll ask Braeden. See if she stops calling you a puppy anytime in the next year-"

"Fine. I'll do it."

He wanders away from the bar, but Lydia isn't focused on him anymore. She catches the bartender's sleeve again.

"There are other people here, ma'am."

"And there is another bartender. I just wanted to say thank you." She pauses to watch his whole self light up. "And to let you know you didn't finish making my non-drugged drink."

He turns bright red as he hurries to remake her drink.

Lydia hangs around a while longer. She watches as Derek get into a less-than-Hollywood shoving match only to return back to the bar, seemingly defeated, before pressing a small ziplock into the bartender's hand along with money for a new drink.

The sheriff shows up a little later, when Lydia is writing her cell number on a napkin. She smiles, adding little notes onto the napkin, while the sheriff pulls her bartender aside - his son - to give him a talking to about what makes evidence admissible in court.

"David" walks out of the bathroom at that point, hair fixed from his Derek scuffle. He tries to slip out, unseen, but the sheriff flags him down, "you're not in trouble, this is just a formality, few questions, no warrants" with the undercurrent that resistance will make this official. Maybe no charges will stick, but maybe it will sully his record.

"So," Lydia ventures, watching her bartender make another drink. "Are you ever going to give this up and become a detective?"

His eyes flash to hers, full of want, before he turns back to the gimlet. "Maybe."

"You should," she continues, pushing her tip and decorated napkin towards him as she stands. "You'd be the kind of cop little old ladies bake for, and for whom the unmarried ladies swoon for after church."

"What kind of Wild West fantasy world do you live in?"

"I'm Lydia," she replies.

"Stiles. And you didn't answer my question."

She shrugs, turning away, throwing her hair over her shoulder as if she didn't care, throwing a smile over as well. "Guess you have something to text me about then."

It's 3am, and Lydia - ever a light sleeper since high school - wakes up to a barrage of texts from an unknown number starting with: "Sorry if this wakes you; bartenders keep late hours" followed by sweet things that warm her heart, convincing her this was not mistake.

She falls back asleep with a smile on her face.