"We have to stop meeting like this", Wren said jokingly.

Jim's smile was tight but still sincere, his eyes soft as he looked at her. He cleared his throat and quietly shut the door behind them.

"I don't want you to worry", he began. "I told you I'd always look out for you, and that's what I'm doing. We...I. I am certain that we locked up the right person for your attack, and for the murders associated with it. But...it's possible we might be looking at a copycat."

Wren swallowed hard. "What do you mean by that exactly? What happened?"

"The precinct got a call yesterday from a college student that found a body washed up on the river. Same wounds...same presumed cause of death. We will know more when the autopsy comes back…" He sat on the edge of his desk in front of her and grabbed her hands. She wasn't expecting the contact, it made her twitch, but she was thoroughly grateful for it. He held her hands tight.

"You know I shouldn't be telling you this. I know in turn you won't say anything. I know you know this is part of me looking after you and being straight with you."

She nodded slowly and looked into his face. "I wouldn't betray that, Jim."

"I know. ...now, there is no evidence to assume that this person would come after you. It's just that we don't know. We don't know the motive or if this person is associated in any way with your attacker. But I need to make sure you're safe. We are going to put a car outside your building. You'll have my cell. I'll keep you up to date. Call me immediately if you notice anything off."

She nodded, her expression blank. They remained that way for a while, neither of them thinking much. It felt like a mutual reprieve.

"Now what?", Wren said eventually, her voice quiet.

"That's...up to you. Go on with your day, just be careful. Try to be mindful without having a black cloud over your head...I don't know. I'm not good with this stuff. Be wary, but at the same time know I've got you covered."

"Jim…", she was actually laughing. It faded away slowly and she became silent again, but it was not uncomfortable- for her or for Jim.

She closed her eyes and gave his hands a squeeze. "I think I'm just going to go home. I have to stop at work for a minute, but I'm gonna head home after that."

"Alright. An officer is in your general vicinity already."

"Thank you, Jim." She gave him a gentle, grateful look before standing up and leaving the room. She felt small yet significant. And scared. Very, very scared.

Her walk to the library involved alternating between short, fast steps and slower, forced strides. She was telling herself to be calm, to be normal, but this wasn't translating to her physical form. Once there, she picked up her paycheck and slipped out without much notice.

There was a bar on the way home that she marginally fancied. It was not yet dark and she knew the people. "Just a couple of drinks couldn't hurt…", she said aloud, scoffing at the current sketchy situation that was her life.

She went in through the side door, even though it was still early. The bar was dark and familiar. She scanned the space to determine her ideal seating arrangement.

Her eyes fixed on a figure sitting at the middle of the bar. She studied his profile and chewed her lip. "Jesus, is that…?.", she thought.

It was. It absolutely was him.

To be fair, she contemplated her actions before she executed them. She didn't really know if she was thinking clearly or not, but she decided it didn't much matter. She took a deep breath and walked over to the man, feigning confidence as she slid onto the barstool next to him.

His demeanor was peculiar, as if it wasn't a surprise to him at all to see her face. He squinted his eyes just slightly, a smile spreading across his face. "...wren…".

She felt her heart quicken and she nodded, looking into his face. "Victor…".

The bartender appeared in front of her and inquired what she'd like to drink. "Whiskey", she replied. The girl just looked at her. "Whiskey. Bourbon. Can I have a glass of bourbon? On the rocks, please."

Victor's smile widened. "Rough day?" He was wearing a black fitted hoodie and dark gray jeans.

Her head was already spinning, just like the first time she ran into him. "Yeah." She swallowed hard. "Are you...here a lot?"

Victor took a sip of his drink-vodka-and sat his glass down with a firm hand. "Not really. Sometimes." He looked into her eyes and smiled. "Eh. I'm fickle."

She felt herself blush. "I wouldn't peg you for the bar type."

"No?", he raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't peg you for the bar type either."

The bartender had left her drink in front of her and she hadn't even noticed. Victor gestured to it.

"Ah." She swirled the glass around a few times before putting the beverage to her lips. It didn't take long for her to feel the effects of the alcohol once she finished the drink. She didn't eat much of anything that day.

She ordered another. The alcohol made her anxiety begin to fade at the edges, burning it away from the outside in. It made her feel exhilarated. There was also something about Victor that made her feel safe, even if it was a false sense of security (which had yet to be determined).

"What does Victor do on any given day?", she asked, her expression as if she were about to hear some very pertinent information.

He thought for a minute. "I'm all over the place, sometimes. I have what some would call a job I guess, though to me it borders on more of a hobby. It can be very meticulous work. Some days, exhausting...but I'd like to think it is worth it."

She waited for him to continue. When he didn't, she looked at him curiously.

He chuckled. "A man has to have some secrets, right?"

"I guess I'll allow it." She smiled playfully and polished off her drink.

.