"I can't—I can't wear this," Fiona protested, her cheeks burning as she turned before the mirror in the dressing room, and fiddled with the hem of the unbelievably short skirt Sydney had selected to pair with her top. The material was very nearly see-through, with sequins interspersed at regular intervals that glimmered in the lighting attached around the perimeter of the dressing room mirror. And although she was wearing the dark blue camisole and panties that Sydney had selected, Fiona still could not help but feel overly exposed, her eyes meeting the warm brown of her newfound companion's for a moment as she shook her head and tugged at the hem of the skirt once again, "I—it's too—"

"It's perfect. I promise you, Fiona, you're going to get used to it," Sydney assured, reaching out to place a hand upon her would-be protégé's shoulder, and giving it a small squeeze before going on, "Trust me, compared to what some of the girls wear, it's actually pretty conservative."

"Conservative?"

"Yep. Definitely covers more skin than mine."

"You're sure?" Fiona pressed, trying to ignore the slight lurch Sydney's confession provoked in her stomach, in favor of turning slowly on the small pedestal she stood upon to get a better look at her appearance in the mirror, "I just—I feel like—"

"Like you're on display, even though I'm the only other one in the room right now?"

"Exactly."

"Well, as much as I hate to say it, you get used to that, too," Sydney advised, aware of how Fiona blanched almost immediately in response to her assertion, and sending the young woman what she hoped was a reassuring smile before she flipped a stray lock of brown hair behind her ear, and watched as the young woman completed her small circuit on the pedestal with apprehension still written plainly upon her face, "Hey—I've got you, okay? Sal's going to have us on the same shift from what he said, and I'm more than willing to run interference anytime you need me to."

"Thank you. Truly," Fiona replied, forcing all the gratitude she could muster into the meager words, in hopes that despite her obvious discomfort, her companion would be able to recognize the sincerity in the gesture, itself, "I can't—I can't tell you how much that means."

"Don't worry about it. Just buy me a drink every now and again after a rough shift, and I'll call it even."

"I think I can manage that."

"Good. Because I'd hate to think you weren't going to be able to cope with the fact that we're basically friends, now."

"Friends?"

"Oh yeah. Unless you go around undressing in front of practical strangers often," Sydney teased, satisfied that her remark earned the laugh she had hoped for, and joining in, herself, as Fiona stepped down from the pedestal and eyed the clothes she had worn to the shop initially with an undeniably eager gaze, "And yes, you can get back in your street clothes, now."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. You know, I'm pretty sure Sal would look the other way if you needed a little something to calm you down before your first shift tonight…"

"I don't—no. I don't drink," Fiona stammered, flushing again as she shimmied out of the sheer skirt, and handed it to Sydney so that it could be placed back upon its hanger while she focused on pulling her jeans on once more, and turning back to grab her shirt as well. Of course, she knew right away that the offer was simply meant as a kindness, as her nerves had likely been all too obvious to the young woman who now reached out waiting hands for the top, and camisole that somehow only made its way to just above Fiona's navel so that she could don her loose fitting t-shirt, instead. But something about the prospect of giving in, even once, turned the blood in her veins to ice, all the same, her teeth worrying over her lower lip for just a moment before she forced herself to meet Sydney's gaze head-on, and make some attempt at providing an explanation.

"It's not—it's not a moral thing. It's just—"

"Don't like the taste?"

"More like afraid I'll enjoy it too much."

"Oh. God, Fiona, I'm sorry. I really put my foot in it, didn't I?" Sydney apologized, watching as her companion tugged her shirt over her thin frame, and finding herself rather more than grateful that the young woman still seemed willing to look her in the eyes, in spite of the apparent conflict born in her expression, "You don't have to tell me anything—"

"No, I—it's—it's fine."

"Fiona—"

"It's fine," Fiona assured, watching as Sydney situated her top and camisole on another hanger, and silently willing her voice not to waver as she attempted to be truthful in spite of the discomfort it caused her person, "My dad—he was—"

"Say no more," Sydney cut in, frowning at the sudden distance that became so apparent in Fiona's blue eyes, as though she had suddenly become lost in a memory that was not at all pleasant, "Seriously, Fiona, I get it. And I won't be bringing it up again unless you want to talk about it."

"I'm not too sure that I ever really will."

"Well, if you ever need to, I'm here."

"And I appreciate that," Fiona said, moving to fall in beside Sydney as she turned to open the dressing room door, and finding herself almost comforted by the fact that their arms had brushed lightly against one another on the way out the door, "Really, I do."

"I know you do. You want to know how?"

"Sure."

"Because you're a good person, Fiona. If you weren't, you wouldn't be putting on such a strong front for this job when I can tell you'd rather be doing about a hundred different things."

Whether she truly wanted to admit it or not, Fiona knew very well that Sydney had the right of it, and yet even in the face of that realization she found that she was not as embarrassed by the truth of her trepidation as she had anticipated.

Perhaps simply having someone who knew how she felt, and understood it, would help her to grow accustomed to this new job, no matter how a large part of her still balked at the prospect of being on display…

…

Loud music thumped against Fiona's eardrums as she picked her way through the crowd that had gathered at the bar later on that evening, her eyes watering as she attempted to grow accustomed to the almost choking clouds of cigarette and cigar smoke wafting around the building. Sydney had been helping her learn the ropes, so to speak, and had sent her back to the bar for a refill on some scotch for one of their tables, while she remained behind to handle a rowdier pair of gentlemen near the back of the bar. And in spite of the fact that she still cringed internally every time she felt a man's eyes lingering on her frame for too long, Fiona found that even that reality was somehow getting easier and easier to deal with, her brow furrowing as she attempted to reconcile that realization with the nature of her current circumstances.

What did it say about her when she eventually came to shrug those lewd glances off as though they were nothing more than routine?

Determined to avoid spending too long thinking about such a thing, however, Fiona did what she could to redirect her attention back to the present, sidling up to the bar as gently as she could amidst the numerous patrons that were already hollering for more alcohol. The bartender was holding his own, of course, at least from the looks of things, a ready smile upon his lips as he handed out beers and shots left and right. And before she could lose her nerve, Fiona forced herself to slip through the small slot in the bannister surrounding the bar to join him where he worked, her lips curving into a tentative smile that she hoped did not prove more akin to a grimace before she raised her voice to be heard over the noise of the crowd.

"Sydney sent me back for more drinks? Table—table twelve?"

"Sure thing, doll," The bartender acknowledged, risking a glance at Fiona over his right shoulder, while he simultaneously handed an eager patron a glass full to the brim with beer straight from the tap, "You're the new girl, right?"

"I—I am, yes."

"Well, new girl, it is a genuine pleasure to meet you. I've been Felix."

"Fiona. Um—no, sorry, that's—"

"Don't worry your pretty little head, love, I already know who you are," Felix joked, sending Fiona a jovial wink, and grinning openly at the apparent flush that spread across her cheeks as a result, "Syd already told me your name."

"She did?"

"Mhmm. And I have to say, given your getup, it suits you."

"You really think so?" Fiona inquired, watching as Felix slid another shot of tequila down the wooden surface of the bar while simultaneously using his free hand to slide two new glasses beneath the tap to prepare her requested refills.

"Sure. Sparkly little outfit—the glitter on your eyes? Couldn't have come up with a better name than 'Nova' if they'd asked me firsthand."

Unsure of exactly how to reply to that, particularly as she still did not know how she felt about adopting another name, Fiona settled instead for simply managing a faint nod, her eyes tracking his movements as he fished the two beers out from beneath the tap just as foam had started to spill over the rim of the glasses, and reached over to place them upon a fresh tray. Stepping forward so that she could grab it, and return to work, however, the young woman soon found herself stalled by the gentle pressure of a hand upon her forearm, blue eyes flicking up to meet warm brown ones while Felix took the liberty of using her sudden pause to speak once again.

"You're doing great, sweetheart. Just keep your head up, and Syd and I'll make sure you get through your shifts until you can do this in your sleep, okay?"

"O—okay," Fiona agreed, allowing the bartender's attempt at providing reassurance to steel her nerves, and reaching over to pick up the tray in full, so that she could turn back towards the slot in the bar railing and head out into the fray beyond. Almost immediately, the press of bodies from every side very nearly took her breath away, her lips pursing into a thin line as she did what she could to ignore it in favor of doing her job, instead. In truth, it would have been a lie to pretend that she did not feel at least slightly hopeful in the wake of Felix's words, particularly as they seemed to coincide with Sydney's own promises as far as they pertained to how she would not be alone, here, no matter how she may have initially feared such a thing as soon as she had taken the job.

Some small part of her was still reluctant to trust perfect strangers, of course, but even in the face of that, Fiona found that she was inclined to try, the determination brought about by the thought prompting a faint smile as she squeezed her way between two tables in the middle of the bar, and returned to where Sydney stood waiting for her.

"I see you've met Felix."

"Yeah. Yeah, I did," Fiona confirmed, handing Sydney the tray, and hanging back as she set the refilled glasses on the table before swiping the empty ones away, "He seems—"

"Eccentric?"

"I was going to say nice."

"Ah, so he's got you under his spell," Sydney surmised, registering Fiona's almost automatically raised brow, and sending her companion a smile as she steadied the tray filled with empty glasses on one hand, and moved back towards the area of the bar that had been cordoned off for more selective clientele, "Don't worry, it happens to all of us at one point or another."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that we've all been Felixed."

"That's a thing?" Fiona questioned, unable to entirely stop the laugh that escaped in response to the verbiage Sydney had used to describe what had apparently just transpired, "Wow."

"It's a good thing, at least so far, though. He helps keep the customers in line, when some of them can't hold their liquor."

"So, if he likes you—"

"He's got your back," Sydney concluded, pushing aside the velure curtain that separated the main area of the bar from the back room, where Fiona had been told the higher-paying clients often ventured to be with the girl of their choosing, "I figured he'd take to you right away."

Taking the statement as intended, Fiona followed after her would-be trainer as she maneuvered into the darker portion of the bar, doing her best to keep her nerves about her as she fought the desire to peek into the rooms that were situated at even intervals along the wall. Each one was blocked off by a semi-sheer curtain, of course—something she had seen when Sydney gave her the tour right before opening for the night. But that still did not stall her imagination from picturing exactly what may have been going on behind the metaphorical closed doors, her heart jumping as a particularly lascivious moan echoed out from behind one of them, and her cheeks burned in response to the sound.

"Just ignore it, love. It's got nothing to do with you."

"Okay," Fiona murmured, forcing a breath out from between slightly pursed lips, and rolling her shoulders while she watched Sydney duck into an apparently empty room, and come back with two more glasses—champagne flutes—to place upon her tray, "I'm sorry, I just—this is still—"

"New?"

"That's one way of putting it."

"It's the only way of putting it," Sydney corrected, stooping to place the tray she carried upon a nearby table, and reaching for Fiona's hand to give it a reassuring squeeze before going on, "Listen, if you need to step outside for a second—"

"I don't."

"Fiona—"

"I'm fine," The young woman insisted, glancing down at where Sydney's hand held her own, and wetting her lips with a tongue for a moment so that she might summon the wherewithal to go on, "And I really am sorry I'm not better at this."

"You don't have to be better at this. You're doing just fine, alright?"

"If you say so."

"I do say so," Sydney promised, sending Fiona another smile, and finding herself more than a little pleased that it was returned readily enough, even in spite of her apparent apprehension, "My first time back here, I very nearly jumped out of my skin."

"Really?"

"God, yes. You're doing so much better than all that."

"I suppose that's something," Fiona acknowledged, reaching for the tray of glasses so that Sydney could duck into another empty room to grab a few more, "I'll take it."

"Good. Because I think I like you too much to just let you up and quit on me."

"Trust me, I can't do that."

"Would you think I'm a completely terrible person if I said I was glad about that?"

"Would you even believe me if I said yes?"

"Probably not," Sydney admitted, inclining her head back towards the doorway they had just entered through so that her companion would take the gesture as leave to follow after her as she headed back to the bar itself, "You think you're ready for a table of your own?"

"I—uh—sure."

"You don't have to be, you know—"

"No. No, really, I—I think I am," Fiona repeated, squaring her shoulders a bit in an attempt at appearing more self-assured, and lifting a brow as she realized Sydney had managed a bit of a chuckle in response, "Hit me with your worst."

"I wouldn't say that around me. I might actually do it."

"Am I supposed to be scared, now?"

"It might serve you well if you were," Sydney suggested, coming to a stop just beside the bar, and taking the tray from Fiona's hands just as she caught sight of a new patron making their way through the door. Though she had always prided herself on knowing most everyone that came through those doors, after having spent a little over a year working for Sal, herself, even she had to admit that she had never seen this man before…

And he was perfect.

"Him," She decided, watching as Fiona's gaze was drawn towards the door, and her blue eyes widened almost comically as soon as she realized exactly who was being referenced, "He's your table. Assuming he doesn't just go squat at the bar."

"He looks like the sort that might," Fiona countered, watching the man rather carefully, and biting at her lower lip as she realized her last-ditch hope that he would venture over towards the bar was incorrect, and she faced another unexpected surge in nerves, "Or—or not."

"I meant what I said, Fiona. If you're not ready for this, I won't push you into it."

"No. No, I can do it."

"You're sure?"

"I am. Rip off the band-aid, right?"

"If it were me, getting to serve someone who looked like that, I'd say you could rip off as many band-aids as you'd like."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. Now go, before I change my mind and steal him from you for myself!"

Hurrying to do what she had been told, albeit with amusement written plainly on her features, Fiona moved through the tables that were placed at uneven intervals throughout the bar to get to the table chosen by the man in question. Sydney was right, of course—objectively, at least, the man was attractive. But regardless of what she may or may not think about the man's looks, she knew that it was far more important that she keep a level head so that she could do her best to see to his needs, without attracting the attention of her new boss, where he was seated in his office just next to the opposite end of the bar…

She would not give him a reason to reprimand her when it was only her first day.

…

"Trial by fire, huh?"

"What?"

"Trial by fire," Felix repeated, nodding his head in the direction of the table Fiona had carried a bottle of bourbon towards, and sending a wry smirk Sydney's way before explaining any further, "You've set her up with her first customer of the night already."

"I thought it'd be good to sort of ease her in. Get her a younger one, rather than throwing her in the deep end with the sleazeballs, and expecting her to pretend she was happy about it."

"Young studs can be sleazeballs too, you know."

"I know. But I've got a good feeling about this one," Sydney insisted, leaning on the edge of the bar, and placing her chin upon the palm of her hand as she watched Fiona fidget nervously with a lock of dark hair while appearing to let her guard down enough for a small smile to break free in response to something the man had said, "See? Look at that. She smiles."

"A real one, too, from the looks of it."

"Damn straight."

"You're going to take credit for this, aren't you?" Felix quipped, rolling his eyes almost immediately in response to Sydney's answering nod, and reaching out to swat at her shoulder as retaliation, "You're hopeless, you know that?"

"And yet you still put up with me."

"Yeah. Because I have to. For my job."

"This from the guy that said if he was straight, he would take me to bed and keep me there for days," Sydney laughed, returning the swat Felix had given her shoulder, before turning back to watch as Fiona headed their way with a slight flush upon her cheeks, "And she likes him."

"I'd be worried about her bloody eyesight if she didn't."

"Whose eyesight are we talking about?"

"Yours," Felix supplied, swiping the notepad she had been perusing after plunking down on a stool on the side of the bar opposite where he stood, "Or am I wrong to assume you're flirting with that tall drink of water over there?"

"I—that wasn't flirting."

"You were smiling, sweetheart. From what Syd the Kid, here, tells me, that's flirting for you."

"Syd the Kid," Fiona repeated, abandoning her embarrassment for just a moment, in favor of turning to peer back over her shoulder at the man in question, while her teeth dug into her lower lip in hopes of keeping any further flushing at bay, "That's—unique."

"It fits."

"I assume there's a story behind the nickname?"

"There is," Felix confirmed, winking at Fiona, and leaning forward so that he could lower his voice just enough to avoid the risk of being overheard by anyone except Sydney, and the young woman he addressed, "But you're not going to hear it until you get your cute little butt back over there, and get that man's phone number."

"I—no way. No, I can't—I can't!"

"If you don't, I will."

"Bold of you to assume he's gay, Felix."

"Bold of you to assume he's not, Syd."

"Okay, whether he's gay or not, I wasn't flirting with him!" Fiona cut in, aware of the disbelieving looks that both of her newfound companions had donned, and yet choosing to press on regardless, "I was—I was just doing my job."

"Hey Sydney."

"Yeah, Felix?"

"Is it just me, or is her nose getting longer?"

"You know what, I think it is," Sydney began, only to find her efforts to continue teasing their new coworker thwarted by the reality of Fiona's sudden decision to hop down from her stool, a smile causing one corner of her mouth to twitch even though she was clearly doing her best to avoid it in favor of scolding them, instead.

"You two are hilarious. Really funny. But if you both don't mind, I'm going to go ahead and try to take care of my table, now. You know…in the spirit of not getting fired."

"Do me one favor, before you go, love," Felix called out, sharing a pleased look with Sydney as his words rather predictably caused Fiona to stop in her tracks, one brow quirked as she turned blue eyes back towards the bar and awaited his request with both arms folded across her chest.

"Yes?"

"Get his name."

"What?"

"His name," The bartender repeated, motioning to an already half-drunk tenant down at the end of the bar that he would be right there, and then turning his attention back towards the young woman watching him as though she were highly convinced that he may have just lost his mind in order to finish his request, "Get me his name, and we'll see if he passes the test."

"What test?"

"Don't you worry about that, darling. Just get the name. We'll take care of the rest."

"Why does your evasive response not surprise me?" Fiona wondered aloud, shaking her head at the laughter that broke out in response to her words, and yet still finding herself capable of managing a soft laugh of her own as she turned on a heel to head back towards her sole table, and away from the bar, itself. She could still feel the residual burning of her cheeks, her embarrassment not entirely abated in the wake of both Felix and Sydney's relentless teasing. But regardless of whether or not she felt she could be certain of the intentions behind such a thing, she would have been a fool to pretend it was not a nice change…

For the first time in a very long time, she felt like an untenable situation might have just gotten a little better.

…

Hello again, angels! And welcome to chapter eight in Fiona's tale! I have to say, I think I had a bit too much fun writing this one, getting our girl inducted into her new job (and possibly making two new friends along the way). And I wanted to take a moment to open the floor to you as my readers to dictate how things will go from here. I personally cannot decide between having her mystery man end up being Crowley (which will move their first interaction up just a touch, but won't change the big plan for how they start to become a more regular fixture in one another's lives), OR do I create another minor OC to give our demon some temporary competition? The choice is up to you, my dears. So please don't hesitate to let me know if you have a preference! I cannot wait to hear your thoughts!

As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you that has taken the time to read, follow, favorite and review this story so far (and special thanks, of course, go out to ChiTown4ever and Guest (CJ/Oddball) for taking the time to leave such wonderfully amazing reviews last time around)! I truly do appreciate your thoughts and of course I cannot wait to hear what you think about this chapter!

Until next time…

MOMM