Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTQV1X13T8GB07TKS3AM5R9

The distinctive green neon sign above the entrance flickered as Silas pushed open the heavy oak door of The Raven's Nest. The familiar scents of aged wood, whiskey, and the faintest hint of cigar smoke washed over him. It had been years since he last set foot in the dimly lit bar, but little had changed. The walls were still adorned with those old maps and black-and-white photographs, each one holding a story known only to a select few. Silas made his way to the bar, his slight limp more pronounced after the long walk from the Tube station. He settled onto a worn leather stool and nodded to the bartender. "The usual, Jimmy." As the bartender poured his drink, Silas' eyes scanned the room. A few regulars sat hunched over their pints, lost in their own thoughts. But it was the woman at the far end of the bar who caught his attention. She had her back to him, but there was something familiar about her straight shoulder-length black hair and the way she held herself. "Rory?" Silas said, barely above a whisper. The woman turned, her bright blue eyes widening in surprise. "Silas? Is that really you?" A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, crinkling the lines around his hazel eyes. "In the flesh, though a bit more grey and worse for wear." Rory slid off her stool and crossed the short distance between them. She hesitated for a moment before pulling him into a quick hug. "It's been too long, Si." "Aye, it has," he agreed, motioning for her to join him. "What brings you to London?" "It's a long story," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "I'm working at the Golden Empress now, delivering takeaway orders." Silas raised an eyebrow. "Quite a change from your Pre-Law days at Cardiff." A shadow passed over her face, and she looked down at her drink. "Yeah, well, things change. People change." He studied her profile, noting the small crescent-shaped scar on her wrist. "Some things don't, though," he said softly. "Like the way you bite your lip when you're trying not to cry." Rory looked up sharply, her eyes glistening. "Damn you, Silas Blackwood. You always could read me like a bloody book." "Comes with the territory, I suppose." He took a sip of his whiskey, savoring the familiar burn. "So, tell me, what's eating at you, kid?" She let out a harsh laugh. "Where do I even start? Leaving Cardiff, my bastard of an ex, the fact that I'm delivering fucking egg rolls for a living? Take your pick." Silas leaned forward, his signet ring catching the light as he placed his hand over hers. "Start at the beginning, Rory. I've got all night." And so she did, her words tumbling out in a rush of anger, frustration, and regret. Silas listened, offering the occasional nod or murmured word of encouragement. As the night wore on and the drinks flowed, the years seemed to melt away, leaving only the easy companionship they'd once shared. "I've missed this," Rory said, her words slightly slurred. "I've missed you, Si." "I've missed you too, kid." Silas gently squeezed her hand. "But I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere." Rory looked at him, her eyes searching his face. "Promise?" "Scout's honor," he replied, raising his right hand in a solemn salute. She snorted. "You were never a Scout, you old liar." Silas grinned, his hazel eyes twinkling. "True, but I was a bloody good spy." They burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the nearly empty bar. As their laughter died down, Silas sobered, his expression growing serious. "I know things are tough right now, Rory, but you're stronger than you think. You'll get through this, and I'll be here to help in whatever way I can." Rory nodded, blinking back tears. "I don't deserve you, Silas." He shook his head. "Nonsense. You deserve the world, Aurora Carter, and don't you ever forget it." The old nickname hung between them, heavy with memories and unspoken words. For a moment, it seemed as though Silas might say more, but the moment passed. He drained the last of his whiskey and set the glass down with a decisive clink. "Come on, kid. Let's get you home before that flat-footed oaf of a barman calls last orders." Rory slid off her stool, staggering slightly. Silas caught her elbow, steadying her with a practiced hand. She leaned into him, her head resting briefly on his shoulder. "Thanks, Si. For everything." He patted her arm, his touch light and reassuring. "Anytime, kid. Anytime." As they made their way out into the cool London night, Silas couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu. How many times had he walked this very route, his arm around a drunk and emotional friend or contact? Dozens, certainly, but none had ever meant as much to him as the woman by his side. The weight of their shared history settled over them like a well-worn blanket, familiar and bittersweet. Silas knew that the road ahead would be difficult, but he also knew that Rory had the strength to face whatever challenges lay before her. And this time, he'd be there to help her every step of the way. As they meandered down the quiet Soho streets, the distinctive green neon sign of The Raven's Nest flickered behind them, a silent witness to the reunion of two old friends and the promise of a new beginning.