The sun is setting, or beginning to as I stare at the orange tinted building in front of me. The windows alone reflect enough light to nearly blind me and I worry in the back of my skull about the drivers speeding past me. The music from inside only slips out through cracks in the walls and whenever someone opens the door to the place. The multi colored lights blasting onto the concrete in shades of reds and blues. Alcohol isn't the strongest lingering smell yet, because it's only 7 at night. My fingers grip the small slip of paper with blue pen scribbled on it in Christina's illegible handwriting. She had told me to go here, to a bar, of all places after Tiffany laid me off. A rough and heavy sigh falls from my lips and I dare to take a few steps forward, enough to gain the attention of the bouncer, who is all muscles and little man. He stands up straighter, jutting out his chin and crossing his arms up over his chest. If it was any other day I would jest with him and poke little fun at the size of his pecs and biceps. But it is not any other day, and I need a job.

Now I'm standing patiently in front of him, taking in how tall he is, how small he makes me feel physically. "21 and older tonight, can I have an ID?"

"Yep," I say, pulling out my wallet and flipping it open, showing him my ID, "Is it always this busy?" I ask him, he cracks a smile at me while checking my card. His teeth are impossibly white and straight, and his lips curl almost too much, like a wicked grin without malice. "Only on Fridays and weekends," He glances up at me, his eyes a warm brown color, "You been here before?"

"I need a job," I admit, "And I don't drink, so I have not,"

"We might be hiring, talk to Four, he'll help you out,"

"Alright, cool. Thank you…" I trail off looking up at him,

"Al, short for Albert," He introduces, holding out his hand to me. Out of politeness I shake it, finding his grasp to be surprisingly gentle. "Tris," I say, letting go and walking by him, sticking my wallet in my back pocket. When the door shuts behind me the music fills my ears, the steady beat of R&B music pounding to my very soul shaking me and the walls with the drop of the bass. My eyes scan the crowd for the bar, and I find it just across the way from me, the lights changing from one cool color to the next, painting the bottles various shades of blues, purples and greens. The liquor smell doesn't reach me until my fingers touch the polished and smoothed wood of the bar. It's a mix of cinnamon and cologne on ice. Strange combination, but it burns the back of my throat when I inhale too deep.

The woman next to me I can tell is starting to have a little too much to drink, as she's wriggling in her bar stool like she's about to piss herself. And when she bumps into me and spills her electric blue martini all over herself she turns and tosses a dirty sneer at me. I grin, baring my teeth and lifting one corner of my lips higher, like a dog growling at a trespasser. She turns away from me quickly, excusing herself to the restroom as the potty dance may have been sped up by me, or she didn't want her clothes to reek of alcohol as much as she already did. A voice pulls me from watching her, it's near a shout but a few octaves under it, an attentive grab in the form of vocals, I turn to the bartender trying to get my attention and stop. I feel my lips part slightly and my eyes widen a fraction.

He, is an incredibly handsome, incredibly sexy man, leaning over the counter crossing his forearms on the wood, long fingers resting on the polished surface, reflecting some of his form. He's dressed in all black, and the shirt he wears hugs his chest, shoulders and arms perfectly. So much that if I had liked drinking I would be drooling and begging for his number. His jaw is strong and chiseled, dark stubble lined his tanned skin along his chin and jaw, but above his top lip and his sideburns were clean-shaven. His hair was a dark brown almost black color, and his lips were half full, half not, giving the impression of pouting. His nose is hooked at the bottom and I'm almost finished drooling over this man until I meet his eyes.

The contact is like nothing I've ever felt before, it roots me to the spot and the loud music threatening to blow my eardrums falls into a muffled bleary state and then silences, my heart skips one moment and my veins ignite into a slow burn. The color of his eyes are a mystery in themselves, they are this dark deep blue, like the bottom of the ocean before plunging deep into an abyss. A sleeping, dreaming, waiting color, that hosts only one splash of lighter blue in his left eye.

It is when he smirks and raises a dark eyebrow at me that I realize I've been ogling this stranger for entirely too long, long enough for it to be awkward. And it's realization that causes me to stutter, something I haven't done for six years, "H- Hi, I'm looking for, uhm a person named Four? Do you know where I can find him?" His smile grows and he leans away from me and the counter, "I might, want something to drink?" He dodges,

"I don't drink," I tell him,

"Funny, what are you doing in a bar then?" He says louder as the music picks up again, I huff to myself before leaning against the bar, "The guard out front said to talk to him about a job,"

"You want a job?" He asks, flashing white straight teeth at me, my eyes catch the glint off his sharper k-nines, and something deep in me stris at the sight and I bite my lip, nodding at him. For a moment he looks me up and down, his eyes glazing over with something indescript, something I don't have a word for, before his gaze snaps up to mine, he smirks at me before jerking his head over to the end of the bar. Taking the hint I turn on heel and squeeze through the drink dancing crowd, the thick smell of perspiration and alcohol dousing my nose. Wrinkling at the smell I turn and try to maneuver through to where I see the bartender. He's eyeing me intently through the crowd, eyes locked onto mine, and even when I lose sight of him and find him again he's still looking at me.

Bodies brush mine and press me against others, hands touch my clothes and suddenly my breath falls short, this much contact sparking my minor Aphephobia, my muscles tense against their will and a shrill sense of panic shoots through my chest. A scream is on my tongue right when a hand closes around my wrist, I'm pulled from the crowd and into my own space so suddenly I can feel my body start to tremble. The hand grips my wrist harder and my instant reaction is to pull away, so I do, in fact I jerk from the hold so hard my back slams against the wall. My eyes accusingly search for my former captor, they land on the bartender, who is staring at me with an unreadable expression.

My mind runs away and distracts itself with the thought of how he could pass for a statue, his face is intense and his gaze even more so. Currently it's trained on my face, and for a moment I'm convinced he seeks to set me aflame, so fearing sudden combustion, I jut out my chin and set my shoulders returning his gaze. It's over in a second however because he opens a door right next to him, "His desk is just down the hall," Cautiously but quickly I walk in, allowing him to follow me and close the door behind us. The music is dulled to a soft mumble through the door and the corridor is silent. It's dimly lit in a black light, my converse laces seem to glow a soft blue, and the walls look black.

My hand touches the wall beside me and I'm about to turn around and tell him to lead the way when he speaks, "Walk forward," I do as he says, letting my eyes adjust to the change in lighting. In the back of my mind I register how deep his voice is now compared to when he was nearly yelling over the music. Part of me wants to turn around and feel his chest rumble when he talks, the other part of me, the much bigger part acknowledges how bad I'm still shaking. "Stop," He says, and so I do. My feet plant awkwardly on the ground and I turn to look at him.

He's still staring at me with that strange haze over his eyes, and then suddenly I understand he's studying me. "Open it, that's his office," He says to me, blinking once slowly, the bottoms of his teeth incredibly white in the dark of this hall. Cautiously, feeling like I'm invading his space, I knock on the door before opening it. The bartender follows me into the room after I'm a few steps inside, then the door shuts and I turn to look at the bartender, watching as he flips on the lightswitch. As soon as the room is brightened my eyes fly to the desk at the back of the room, finding it empty.

Confusion washes over me and I step forward a few times, the room itself is incredibly tidy, no papers are strewn across the desk, no filing cabinets are out of order, and everything seems to be in its exact place. The bartender slips past me and walks around the desk, his strides long, and silent. Then suddenly he falls into the black leather rolling office chair and leans back, looking over at me with a bored expression, "So, what are you looking to get a job here as?"

"You're Four?" I ask, walking up to the desk,

"The one and only," He says with a smirk,

"And you couldn't have told me this because?" My voice is just short of annoyed, my hands gesture around me like the room has the answer. He merely shrugs at me, "I needed to stop by here anyway, one of my waitresses is about to get off work, and we're already short a man,"

"So, no resume needed?" I ask, shaking my head in disbelief, "You're just going to send me to work?" He stares at me a moment, his expression shifting from laid back ease to schooled and taught features, then he speaks, voice bouncing off the walls to my very core, "Do you drink?"

"No,"

"Are you good with time?"

"Relatively,"

"How about memory?"

"Great," I say,

"Will that episode happen again?"

"Excuse me?" I ask him, taken aback by his abruptness,

"On the dance floor, you started to break down into a panic, I can't have that in my bar. Will it happen again?"

"I don't like being touched," I mumble,

"This job requires you to maneuver through crowds, if you can't do that, I'm afraid I can't hire you," He states, leaning forward in his chair, staring up a storm at me. My lips press into a thin line, and my teeth sink down on my bottom lip, my eyes averted from him. I need this. The cold air of the room clings to my bare finger tips, and his stare isn't helping matters much. Then my mind snaps to my best friend, and to the slip of paper she gave to me, my fingers whip to my wallet and I slip the paper to Four, "I was directed here, and told to ask for one person in particular," Four stares at me before he lets his eyes snap to the paper. Anxiety slowly starts to gnaw at me in this intense silence, until his hand shifts and he presses something under his desk with a soft click.

The door to his office opens a minute later and a man walks in, he has dark skin, dark hair, dark cloths, but strange eyes. They're half an icy blue color, and half dark brown. The employee shoots me a look, one that tells me he's seen more than his fair share of women, and that I was no different. Careless personality. He speaks, his voice higher than I thought it would be, "You wanted to see me?"

"Do you know this girl?" Four asks, gesturing to me with a tilt of his head. My nerves burning at the prospect of being talked about but not addressed. Still, my teeth sink into the side of my tongue and cheek as they continue to exchange words, "I've seen her around, why? Is she in some kind of trouble?" He asks, eyeing me with a fond and amused expression.

"She wants a job,"

"Oh," He says, eyebrows twitching as he turns to me, "You're Christinas friend, you were fired right? Got in a fight with your boss?" My skin ignites and my face grows warm at his words. Christina's got a loud mouth, if she were here now, I would slap her. Gritting my teeth and blinking slowly, I reply, ignoring the raised eyebrows of Four, "Yes, that's me," Four shoots me a smirk when I dare to look at him, and my "friend" has a devilish look on his face. Oohh if I could just- "Uriah, take her out for a trial run," He looks over at me, a serious look in his eye, "I'll give you a call tomorrow regarding your employment status," And just like that, his smirk is the last thing I see as the door closes, leaving me in a mellow hallway of black and muffled club music, my heart racing to the beat. My breath caught in my throat as I blink, confused. Had he really done that for me?

'Running With the Wolves' and 'She Knows' will be my two main stories for Divergent for a while. But on this note, I'd like to apologize for not posing much of anything this last week or so, as I have moved half way across a country within the last three days, and it takes longer than that to pack the entirety of your house into a few boxes. But! That was the reason for the delay, I'm back now, with a few stories up my sleeve, looking to complete some of the easier ones first.

'She Knows' is a much longer developing story, with a slow burn of Eric/Tris paring, therefore will have many more chapters than 'Unsteady' or 'One Kiss'.. 'Running With the Wolves' is also a longer developing plot, though the chapters are much shorter and quicker, there is much to touch base on with this story. And instead of Eric/Tris parings, there will be the original pairings, including Four/Tris, as well as included OC characters vital for the plot line. But there you go, an over all explanation.

Again, music/title credits go to miss Aurora.