Eryn appeared out of thin air, leaning against the doorway as if she’d just stepped forward from another dimension. She smiled broadly, sweeping the metallic strands of her hair behind her ear. “It would be an honor to die by the Bloody Baroness’s blades,” Eryn replied, “but Soyina has requested my presence in the bathhouse after my shift, and I’ve never been one to miss out on a healthy prank with high odds of death, dismemberment or drowning.”

Dex blinked. “You may be just as wicked as Soyina.”

Eryn grinned even wider. “More wicked,” she said with a wink. She turned to Andi then, her expression turning stoic. “Arachnid is a good leader. I’m not one to persuade anyone, but...” She lifted a hand, turning it this way and that as it flickered in and out of view, visible and invisible from one shifting motion to the next. “I bend light. I know it well, like an old friend. And even though Arachnid’s actions reveal mostly darkness...” Her hand reappeared again. “There is also a great deal of light inside.”

She flipped a golden Krev toward Dex. He caught it on reflex, then sent her a quizzical look. “What’s this for?”

“I’ll have to track you, by order of Arachnid,” Eryn said apologetically. “But I’ll stay just out of earshot, I swear it. And if you want to leave, and never come back... I won’t stop you. But please, enjoy some drinks on me before you make your choice.”

“Thanks,” Dex said gratefully, inclining his head to her. He and Andi weren’t exactly swimming in Krevs these days.

Then he followed Andi back up the tunnel, walking behind her in silence until it spit them out into the frigid atmosphere of the ice pub high above.

It was busier than it had been before, the tables and couches now packed with patrons eager to down a mug or two or three. The purple flames still flickered merrily in the ice-block fireplace, a droid rekindling the flames with some sort of purple liquid that turned to flame the moment it touched the rest. Two miniature fighting droids battled on a nearby table, surrounded by a laughing group of young men and women placing bets on which would win. A few feet away, a couple of Solerans sat at the bar, icicles on their lashes and brows, a peculiar sight as they played a game of Fleet. Dex felt a pang of sadness at the sight as he remembered the last time he’d played—with Gilly and Breck, aboard the Marauder.

It was too normal here, too happy.