Whiskey Neat and Unfinished Business

Flashback

The smell was what eight-year-old Caitlyn remembered first. Not the familiar aroma of her family’s sprawling gardens or the polished halls of the Kiramman estate, but the sharp, metallic tang of rust and oil that clung to the air in the undercity. It was a smell that made her nose wrinkle and her stomach churn, yet it intrigued her all the same.

She wasn’t supposed to be here. That much was clear from the way her freshly polished boots stood out against the grimy streets, from the way the stares of passing strangers lingered a little too long.

“Miss Caitlyn, we really should go back,” one of the household guards murmured, standing stiffly behind her like a nervous shadow. “Your mother will be furious if she finds out—”

“She won’t find out,” Caitlyn said firmly, glancing over her shoulder. “And if you keep hovering, you’ll only draw more attention. Stay back.”

The guard hesitated but obeyed, retreating several paces to give her space while keeping a watchful eye. Caitlyn sighed and adjusted her grip on the small satchel slung over her shoulder. Inside were sandwiches she’d stolen from the kitchen, still warm and wrapped neatly in cloth.

She’d read about the undercity in books and heard the whispered warnings from her family. But none of it prepared her for the real thing: the narrow, winding alleys, the cracked stone walls covered in graffiti, the sounds of distant shouting and clanging metal. It was chaos. It was freedom.

As she turned a corner, Caitlyn spotted them. Two figures crouched near a pile of discarded scrap metal, their heads bent close as they rifled through the junk.

The taller one—probably only a year or two older than Caitlyn—had short, messy pink hair, one side shaved close to her scalp. Her frame was lean but strong, and she moved with a confidence that was startling for someone her age. The other was much smaller, with wild blue hair that seemed to stick out in every direction. She was giggling as she held up what looked like a broken gear, her sharp voice cutting through the air.

“Jinx, that’s not worth anything,” the older girl said, her voice gruff but tinged with affection. She snatched the gear from the smaller one’s hands and tossed it aside. “Keep looking. We need something good.”

“I like this one,” the little one protested, pouting. “It’s shiny.”

“It’s junk.”

Caitlyn stepped closer, her boots scuffing softly against the ground. The sound made the older girl’s head snap up, her blue eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“What do you want?” the girl demanded, standing and moving in front of the smaller one protectively.

Caitlyn froze for a moment, caught off guard by the intensity of the girl’s gaze. Then she straightened her shoulders, reminding herself that she had every right to be here, no matter what this girl thought.

“I saw you scavenging,” Caitlyn said, holding up the satchel. “I thought you might be hungry.”

The older girl’s eyes flicked to the bag, then back to Caitlyn. “We don’t need your charity.”

“It’s not charity,” Caitlyn said quickly, stepping closer. “It’s just food. No strings attached.”

“Strings are always attached,” the girl replied, her tone sharp.

Caitlyn hesitated, unsure of how to respond. She looked past the older girl to the younger one, who was peeking out from behind her leg with wide, curious eyes.

“What’s your name?” Caitlyn asked softly, addressing the smaller girl.

“Jinx,” the little one chirped, her pout replaced with a grin.

“That’s a pretty name,” Caitlyn said with a smile. “Do you like sandwiches, Jinx?”

Jinx nodded eagerly, but the older girl’s hand on her shoulder held her back.

“I said we don’t need your help,” the older girl repeated, her tone colder now.

Caitlyn met her gaze steadily. “Everyone needs help sometimes. There’s no shame in that.”

The girl’s jaw tightened, her hand clenching into a fist at her side. For a moment, Caitlyn thought she might tell her to leave. But then, with a sharp exhale, the girl relaxed slightly.

“Vi,” she said, her voice quieter now. “My name’s Vi.”

Caitlyn’s smile widened. “It’s nice to meet you, Vi. I’m Caitlyn.”

Vi didn’t return the smile, but she stepped aside just enough for Jinx to dart forward and snatch the satchel from Caitlyn’s hands.

“Thanks!” Jinx said brightly, already tearing into one of the sandwiches.

“Jinx,” Vi muttered, exasperated, but there was no real heat in her voice.

“It’s fine,” Caitlyn said, watching Jinx with a small laugh. “I brought plenty.”

Vi crossed her arms, her sharp eyes still wary. “Why are you really here?”

Caitlyn considered lying but decided against it. “I wanted to see it for myself. The undercity.”

Vi raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because,” Caitlyn said simply, “I didn’t want to believe everything I’d been told about this place—or the people in it.””

Vi stared at her for a long moment, as if trying to decide whether she was worth the effort. Then, with a shrug, she sat back down by the pile of scrap metal, pulling out another sandwich for herself.

“You’re weird,” Vi said around a mouthful of food.

Caitlyn laughed, the sound light and genuine. 

Vi didn’t respond, but the smallest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

It was the beginning of something Caitlyn couldn’t quite name, but she knew one thing for certain: this wouldn’t be the last time she crossed paths with Vi.

Caitlyn stepped out of the bar, her polished exterior unshaken, though her mind felt like it had been thrown into a storm. The evening air was cool, a stark contrast to the warm, chaotic energy of The Rusty Gauntlet. She pulled her coat tightly around herself, her heels clicking softly on the cobblestones as she walked beside Jayce, who was unnaturally quiet for once.

“So… that went well,” Jayce finally said, his tone laced with forced optimism.

Caitlyn shot him a sharp look, her brow arching slightly. “Define ‘well.’”

Jayce smirked, unfazed. “You didn’t bolt for the door, and she didn’t knock me out for dragging you there. I’d call that a win.”

Caitlyn exhaled, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at her lips. “Your standards are appallingly low.”

“Hey, I deal in small victories,” Jayce quipped, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Seriously though, Cait, it wasn’t as bad as you’re making it out to be. She seemed… happy to see you.”

Caitlyn didn’t respond immediately, her eyes fixed on the horizon. The truth was, she wasn’t sure what she’d expected. Vi’s presence had always been larger than life, even when they were kids. Tonight had been no different—her swagger, her sharp wit, the way her voice carried across the bar like she owned the place because, well, she did.

“She’s changed,” Caitlyn said softly, almost to herself.

“Yeah, people do that when years go by,” Jayce replied with a shrug. “But deep down, she’s still the same Vi. You two were close once. That doesn’t just go away.”

“It doesn’t always stay, either,” Caitlyn countered, her voice quieter now.

Jayce stopped walking, forcing Caitlyn to turn and face him. His expression was uncharacteristically serious. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you two, and I’m not gonna pretend I do. But maybe… just maybe, this is your chance to figure it out.”

Caitlyn hesitated, her gaze flickering briefly to the ground before meeting his. “I didn’t come back for her, Jayce.”

“I know,” Jayce said with a small smile. “But she’s here. And whether you like it or not, so are you.”

Caitlyn sighed, the weight of his words settling heavily on her. Without another word, she resumed walking, her pace brisk and deliberate. Jayce followed, his usual playful demeanor returning as he let the silence stretch.

Inside The Rusty Gauntlet, Vi leaned against the bar, her hands gripping the edge as she stared at the rows of bottles lined up in front of her. Her pink hair glinted under the warm lights, the shaved side catching the faintest shadows. She drummed her fingers idly, her usually sharp energy dulled by the weight in her chest.

“You good, boss?” one of the bartenders asked, a young woman with bright green hair and a curious tilt to her head.

Vi blinked, snapping out of her thoughts. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

The bartender shrugged, a sly grin spreading across her face. “No reason. Just looked like you saw a ghost back there.”

Vi snorted, grabbing a rag and wiping down the counter with more force than necessary. “Not a ghost. Just someone I haven’t seen in a while.”

“An ex?”

“Hell no,” Vi said quickly, rolling her eyes. “She’s just… Cait. We grew up together. She left. End of story.”

The bartender raised a skeptical brow but didn’t press further. “If you say so.”

Vi sighed, tossing the rag aside and leaning back against the counter. Her gaze wandered to the empty table where Caitlyn had sat, the faint imprint of her presence lingering like a shadow.

“Caitlyn Kiramman,” Vi muttered under her breath, her lips twisting into a faint smirk. “Always full of surprises.”

The truth was, seeing Caitlyn again had stirred something in Vi, something she’d spent years trying to bury. Memories of late-night adventures, quiet moments shared under the stars, and the sharp pain of her departure. She hated how easily those memories resurfaced, clawing their way to the forefront of her mind.

“She still wears that ‘I’m too good for this place’ look,” Vi muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

“Sounds like you missed her,” the bartender said with a cheeky grin, grabbing a tray of glasses.

Vi rolled her eyes, flipping her the bird with an amused snort. “Get outta here.”

As the bartender left, Vi poured herself a shot of whiskey, the amber liquid glinting under the light. She downed it in one go, the burn grounding her as she slammed the glass back onto the counter.

“Missed her, my ass,” Vi muttered, but the words felt hollow even to her.

For the rest of the night, Vi stayed busy with work, letting the buzz of the bar keep her mind off things.