Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY8SPF610XA75P2D2WKRKGE

Rain lashed against the windows of The Raven’s Nest, blurring the neon green sign into a hazy smear. Rory wiped condensation from a glass, the familiar clink echoing in the near-empty bar. Tuesday nights were slow. Silas nursed a whiskey at the far end of the counter, his gaze fixed on a chess board he'd set up between himself and an empty chair. The slight limp in his left leg was more pronounced tonight. A gust of wind rattled the door as someone entered, shaking off the rain like a wet dog. Rory glanced up, expecting a late-night drifter. Instead, she froze. Standing there, dripping onto the worn floorboards, was a woman she hadn’t seen in over a decade. Elara. Years hadn't been kind. The bright, rebellious spark that had defined Elara back at Cardiff University had been extinguished, replaced by a hard, almost brittle edge. Her fiery red hair, once worn in a cascade of defiant curls, was now sleeked back in a severe bun. The ripped jeans and band tees were gone, traded for a tailored charcoal suit that screamed money and power. Even her eyes, those warm hazel eyes that had always held a hint of mischief, seemed colder, sharper. Rory felt a sudden, inexplicable pull of memory, the scent of cheap beer and late-night study sessions flooding her senses. Elara’s gaze swept over the bar, finally settling on Rory. Recognition flickered across her face, a brief crack in the carefully constructed facade. A slow smile stretched her lips, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. “Rory? Rory Carter, is that really you?” Rory cleared her throat, setting down the glass. "Elara. Wow. I… I didn't expect to see you here." She gestured to the empty stool beside her. "Come on, get out of the rain. Silas makes a mean hot toddy." Elara moved with a controlled grace, shedding her coat and draping it over the back of a chair. She sat, her posture ramrod straight. "Silas is still running this place?" She studied Rory, her expression unreadable. “Still delivering Chinese food, I presume?" "Keeps me busy," Rory replied, offering a small smile. “Pays the rent.” She snagged a towel, offering it to Elara. “You’re soaked.” Elara took the towel, dabbing at her hair with unnecessary precision. "It's been a long day." She paused, then added, “A long time.” Silas glanced up from his chess game, his hazel eyes assessing Elara with an almost clinical detachment. He nodded curtly in her direction. "Hot toddy?" Rory asked, forcing a lightness she didn't feel. "Please," Elara said. "And something to eat. I'm famished." Rory relayed the order to Silas, who moved with surprising agility behind the bar, gathering ingredients. The silence that followed was thick with unspoken history. Elara broke it. "You haven't changed much," she observed, her gaze fixed on Rory’s hands as she polished another glass. "Neither have you," Rory countered, though the statement felt like a lie. Elara’s lips curved into a humorless smile. “Oh, I think I have. Quite a bit, actually." Silas placed a steaming mug of toddy and a plate of scotch eggs in front of Elara. He leaned against the counter, watching them with an unnerving stillness. Elara took a slow sip of the hot toddy, her eyes closing briefly in what might have been pleasure. “I’m with Sterling Cooper & Ross now,” she announced, as if reciting a business card. “Corporate law. Mergers and acquisitions. Exciting stuff.” Rory raised an eyebrow. “Sterling Cooper? That’s… quite a leap from protesting tuition fees outside the university library.” A shadow flickered across Elara’s face. “People change, Rory. Circumstances change. You of all people should understand that.” She looked pointedly at Rory’s delivery uniform, folded neatly on the counter. Rory bristled at the unspoken judgment. “I’m fine. It’s honest work.” Elara waved a dismissive hand. “I didn’t say it wasn’t. It’s just… different. You always had such potential, Rory. Such fire. I thought you’d be changing the world, not dropping off Sweet and Sour Chicken.” The words hung in the air, heavy with regret and accusation. Rory felt a familiar sting behind her eyes. She thought of Evan, of the way he’d chipped away at her confidence, of the choices she'd made to survive. “And you’re conquering the corporate world?” Rory asked, her voice carefully neutral. Elara took another sip of her toddy. “Let’s just say I’m making a difference. In my own way.” "What kind of difference?" Rory pressed, unable to resist. Elara hesitated, her eyes darting around the bar as if checking to see who might be listening. “I represent Global Dynamics,” she said, her voice low. “They’re… expanding their interests in renewable energy.” Rory knew Global Dynamics. A ruthless conglomerate with a history of exploiting developing countries. "Renewable energy with a heavy environmental cost, I imagine." Elara’s expression hardened. “You always were cynical.” “Realistic,” Rory corrected. “There’s a difference.” They stared at each other, the years of shared history and fractured friendship weighing down the space between them. Rory noticed a faint tremor in Elara’s hand as she set down her mug. “Remember that protest we organized against the new campus development?” Elara asked softly, her voice losing some of its steel. “The one that got us both arrested?” Rory smiled, a genuine smile this time. “How could I forget? You climbed on top of the bulldozer." “And you chained yourself to the fence," Elara finished. "We were going to change the world, weren't we?" “We were young and idealistic,” Rory said. “And now?” Rory shrugged. “Now I’m delivering takeout. You’re saving the planet, one corporate takeover at a time.” Elara laughed, a short, brittle sound. “It’s a living.” She looked down at her hands, her manicured nails catching the dim light. “It pays for a very nice apartment. And a very nice car. And a very nice life, all things considered." “At what cost?” Rory asked quietly. Elara didn’t respond. She swirled the remaining liquid in her mug, her gaze distant. Silas cleared his throat. “Checkmate,” he said, without looking up from the chessboard. “Your move, Elara.” Elara blinked, as if waking from a dream. She looked at the chessboard, then back at Rory. "I should go," she said, rising to her feet. "I have an early flight tomorrow." Rory nodded. "Safe travels." Elara paused by the door, her hand on the handle. She turned back to Rory, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. "It was… good to see you, Rory." Rory watched her go, the rain continuing to lash against the windows. The neon green sign of The Raven's Nest blurred in her vision. She felt a profound sense of sadness, a quiet ache of what might have been. Silas placed a hand on her shoulder. “She’s lost,” he observed, his voice low. “Lost a long time ago.” Rory looked at him, her eyes filled with a weariness that went beyond the late hour and the endless cycle of deliveries. “We all get lost sometimes, Silas,” she said. “Some of us just lose our way more spectacularly than others.”