The sharp smile that had become familiar was still absent.

Asha had come into work equally as sullen as the day before, and the discomfort this change in attitude caused only got worse for Shireen. She found herself wondering if she was somehow at fault.

That was the simple answer, the one her past experience had trained her to expect. But thinking back, Asha had been fine one day and upset the next. The much more likely answer is there was simply something else in her life causing this reaction. It was none of Shireen's business.

Shireen had to remind herself of that often. It was none of her business.

The day after, Asha didn't come to the bookstore at all. The bad weather continued and with it the drought of customers, so the absence didn't cause an undue amount of burden to fall on Shireen. It simply amplified her worries. The next two days were to be her, and Asha's, days off.

Going back over the last few weeks, looking for signs of something that could explain the current situation, Shireen was forced to reexamine some warning signs.

Asha had issues accepting food from others, but clearly needed it. She'd admitted when they met how particularly low her budget was. She tended to reuse clothing at a higher rate than Shireen would consider normal, frequently without washing it.

The woman was obviously in some sort of financial trouble. Perhaps it was more serious than that?

Her previous self-insistence that this was none of her business eroded. With defeat, Shireen decided she was going to do something.

The question then became: what was there in her power that she could do? She didn't have an address or a phone number for Asha. Just a name, a description, and her status as a student in the field of social work. It may have been possible to find her on social media websites, but that would require Shireen to make an account on one of them, so that idea was to be discarded.

Which left one option that was both reasonable and comfortable. All it required was participating in a phone call.

She dialed the number the moment her lunch break began. After three rings, a familiar sullen voice answered. "Shireen? Can this wait? I'm busy."

"Then I will make this brief."

Before she could start to explain her point, he interrupted. "I'm sorry, but no matter what you say, I'll tell you the same thing I told your father: I'm not going back to working at the bookstore. I miss working with you, Shireen, but I can't-"

"This isn't about that." Shireen had been unaware that her father was actively trying to recruit Jon Snow to work for them again. He was easily the best bookkeeper the bookstore has ever hired, even if his tendency to be mouthy with the business's owner led to frequent tensions. "Does your friend still work at Storm's End University?"

There was a short pause before Jon spoke again, voice hesitant. "Sam? Yeah, only until he finished his post-grad work."

"There is an... acquaintance of mine, one I would like to get ahold of, but I don't have her contact information. If I give you her name, a description, and her major, do you think Tarly could find a way for me to reach her?" This put her in a compromising position, but with Jon she was willing to do that. He was a good enough sort of fellow.

Jon considered the question. "If it was anyone else, I'd be worried this was being done to stalk the girl. But considering it's you..." Shireen said nothing, letting the silence drag on until he finally sighed. "Fine. But just text the details to me, and I'll handle it later. It was good hearing from you, but I-"

For the second time in the call, someone spoke over Jon, but this time it wasn't Shireen. "Is that Shireen on the phone?"

"Yes, Ygritte, it's me. Congratulations on continuing to date the most somber man in Westeros."

"Thanks! Hope Sam can help you find your girlfriend!" Then the call suddenly ended, and Shireen was struck with the image of Jon's unpredictable girlfriend taking the phone out of his hand and ending the call for him.

All in all, it hadn't been terrible as far as phone calls were concerned. Enough social interaction for the entire day, certainly, but it could have been worse.

It wasn't until she'd started eating her food that it occurred to her that Ygritte had simply assumed that Asha was Shireen's girlfriend. Some strange feeling bubbled up in her stomach at the thought of that, resembling queasiness most of all.

Shireen would chock it up to expired food and leave it at that.

Shireen would have enjoyed being able to say that she had forgotten about the phone call entirely by the next day.

To do so would have been a lie. Shortly after the call had ended, she had sent Asha's details to Jon. (The fourth text message she'd ever sent her friend, and the tenth she'd sent since first getting a cell phone.) That left her to wait for a reply.

To get her mind off of the subject, she'd focused on reading. For months, her free time had been taken up by a project.

As a child, one of her favorite things to read had been a light survey on the history of the Stormlands. Not the kind of thing made for children, but a piece of pop history that was more about sparking interest than delivering fully accurate information.

However, it had citations in the back.

Those citations had become Shireen's reading list. Some of the volumes involved, dense historical works written by maesters who had actually worn chains around their necks, were difficult to get ahold of.

Being the daughter of a bookstore owner had its perks.

Shireen was laying on her bed, steadily digging into a particularly dry text titled The Economic Hardships of the Third Century, with a Focus on Agricultural, and the Resulting Effects on the Political Landscape, when her phone rang.

After setting aside the tome and crawling over to her bedside table to reach her phone, Shireen saw it was Jon. With renewed interest, she answered. "Tarly was able to achieve results?" It had been less than 24 hours. Commendable work on Sam's part, if that was the case.

"Hello to you too," Jon replied, though Shireen knew him well enough to tell he wasn't truly slightest by the abrupt greeting. "When you sent over her name, I knew it sounded familiar. Her younger brother Theon was over at my house enough as a kid that people just counted him as a part of the family. He's a few years older than me, from what little I know he had good reason to avoid his family's house."

A dark emotion sparked inside of Shireen. The statement was vague, but the possible implications were alarming. "Was Sam able to get her address? Or possibly a phone number?"

The sound of paper being moved around on a desk came over the phone speaker, followed by an address. "It's not student housing, just four blocks from the bookstore. You want a ride?"

"I appreciate the offer, but I can get there perfectly well on my own." It was not a foolish attempt at maintaining independence to her own depriment. Shireen was well aware of what her limits were, she knew not to push herself unnecessarily. Looking up the map online, it was easily within her walking distance, even on a bad day.

After exchanging further pleasantries with Jon, she hung up and got dressed for a walk in the cold. It had stopped raining, and Shireen rather enjoyed overcast winter days.

Even with three layers of clothing and a scarf around her neck, Shireen could feel the cold in her aching bones as she approached the low-quality apartment complex where Asha lived.

Thump, thump, thump.

In fact, the longer she appraised the building as she came closer, the more sure Shireen was the owner was dodging some sort of codes for construction or safety. The holes on the roof looked poorly patched, the windows clearly did little to keep out the winter cold, and a smell hung in the air that reeked of mold.

The architectural style, if one could call it that, leaned heavily towards brutalism. A large, gray concrete block hollowed out to be filled with living quarters.

For reasons Shireen failed to understand, approaching the door to Asha's apartment made her heart beat uncomfortably quick. It would be their first time interacting outside a work setting, which was a new social context. Still, there was nothing to worry about.

Well, that was incorrect. There were many things to worry about. That's why Shireen was there. But none of them were helped by standing around and doing nothing.

Knock, knock.

Two should suffice, she decided, before beginning to wait.

After a few seconds, Shireen heard a muffled, "The fuck?" through the door before several locks clicked in succession and the door opened. Asha was not wearing yellow and black this time. The baggy flannel shirt didn't do much to hide the sports bra underneath, and shorts paired with them were possibly also serving the role of underwear. "How'd you find this dump?"

"I have my ways."

"All right then, keep your secrets. You wanna come inside?" Judging by her chattering teeth and the goosebumps on her exposed skin, Asha's apartment was barely warmer than the outdoors. Shireen nodded, and they both walked past the threshold so Asha could close the door once more.

Contrary to Shireen's expectations, Asha did not live in some unfettered pigsty. Instead, her studio apartment was as spartan as it was small. A desk, a bed, a small kitchen area, and a few cardboard boxes where she apparently kept her clothes.

Asha quickly moved over to her bed, where she had amalgamated her blankets into a nest, wrapping herself up in them with only her head exposed. It was almost humorous. "How's tricks?"

After considering and disregarding asking further about what those words meant, Shireen replied, "You showed uncharacteristic behavior two days in a row, then neglected to appear at all. Curiosity is understandable." It felt disingenuous to label it as 'curiosity' rather than 'worry', but for some reason that word didn't want to leave her mouth.

"Nice to know you care." Asha didn't say it as though to dismiss Shireen's point, or to tease her for revealing affection through her actions. No, she sounded genuinely appreciative, her smile warm and friendly. It made Shireen want to smile back at her. "I'm feeling a lot better now. There were just some issues getting one of my medications filled. It's like they say, shit flows downhill. Which means that when you're at the bottom, you get hit with more of it."

"What a colorful metaphor," Shireen responded, raising an eyebrow. She looked around, and realized there wasn't a chair for her to use to sit down.

Seeming to notice the same thing, Asha pulled a hand out of her blanket cocoon and patted a spot on the edge of the bed. "Take a load off!" Shireen did so, and as she did Asha started up some of the chatter that Shireen had started to miss. "Hope my ditching yesterday didn't fuck you over. I assumed it was going to be another slow day, and I thought you'd be better off without a third day of me being a grumpy bitch."

"How thoughtful of you. Perhaps in the future you could call the store and inform me." With the chill air still biting at her, Shireen sighed. She had to say something. "Asha, is there something wrong with your apartment's heating?"

Asha suddenly found the ceiling very interesting, judging by how she glued her eyes to it. "It's not, but I can't afford to run the damn thing. It's fine. Got enough blankets." The answer came to her easily, delivered as though there truly was nothing the matter with the situation.

A cold lump formed in the pit of Shireen's stomach.

This was a struggle that she had never had to personally face. For all her other issues, when it came to money there had never been anything to worry about. She didn't even need to work for a living, but she insisted on having a job regardless.

For a moment, Shireen considered how she would fare under these conditions. It did not take much deliberation to know that she could manage it, more than likely, but the long term effects of it would be... debilitating. Once she'd allowed herself to imagine it, the words came from her mouth without having to think of them first, a rarity for Shireen.

"I'm going to see about making your work at the bookstore paid employment." She spoke with a firm tone that implied there was no room for argument. Because as she saw it, there wasn't. Aside from literally asking her father for money to give Asha, which he would likely not do and she would certainly never accept, it was her only option.

She'd gotten Asha's attention. After starting and stopping a few times with half-formed sounds, Asha finally got a sentence out. "Can that happen... without a background check?"

"Possibly. Why would you prefer one not be done?" Asha wasn't aware that Shireen's father owned the bookstore, Shireen realized, so she may have been underestimating the level of influence that she had on her hiring.

The smile on Asha's face flickered like a failing lightbulb, as she barely managed to keep it up. "Things I've done. Names I've gone by before. That kind of shit." Judging by how parts of the blanket mess moved, Shireen assumed that she shrugged. "It's not a huge deal. Just a preference."

Not wanting to make a promise she can't keep, Shireen left it at, "I'll do what I'm able to. We can discuss it further when next we work." Rising up from the bed, she wasn't able to hide a small cry of pain as one of her thighs throbbed with discomfort. "I'll see myself out, there's no need to leave your chrysalis."

That earned Shireen a snort of laughter as she walked to the door. Just before she left, Asha called out to her one last time. "Hey!" Shireen turned to look at Asha and saw that damn grin on her face again, sharp as ever. "Thank you for coming all the way here, to check on me. And for the job help, even if that doesn't pan out. I know it's not nothing. I see you." Then, she unceremoniously flopped flat on her bed.

With an unsaid rejoinder about being well aware that Asha has working eyes on her tongue, Shireen started back towards home. Asha hadn't been literal. Feeling seen, truly seen, by a peer, wasn't something Shireen experienced often. From this woman, it felt unexpectedly pleasant.

Now, all she had to do was try and convince her father to gainfully employ a foul-mouthed hooligan.