Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYAMVYVKYY76VJV641HG67M

Aurora Carter shoved the door to The Raven's Nest, hinges creaking under the Soho drizzle. Green neon hummed overhead, casting jade flecks across the threshold. Inside, shadows pooled thick around scarred oak tables, walls papered in faded nautical charts and sepia shots of long-gone harbors. A lone punter nursed a stout in the corner booth, steam rising from his pipe like a ghost's breath. She shook rain from her jacket, black hair clinging damp to her neck. Bright blue eyes swept the room, landing on the bar. There, Silas Blackwood hunched over a ledger, grey-streaked auburn beard catching the low amber glow of pendant lamps. His right hand turned pages, silver signet ring flashing. Left leg shifted, that old hitch pulling his posture crooked. He glanced up. Hazel eyes narrowed, then widened. Ledger snapped shut. "Rory?" Her stomach twisted. She crossed the floorboards, each step echoing too loud. Stopped at the bar rail, fingers tracing a knife gouge in the wood. "Silas Blackwood. Still pouring poison in this hole?" He straightened slow, wincing as weight hit his knee. Limped around the counter, hand outstretched. Gripped hers firm, thumb pressing the crescent scar on her wrist—like he remembered the swing-set tumble from two decades back. "Ten years. You vanish to Cardiff Uni, then poof. Thought you'd gone barrister like your da." His gaze raked her face, lingered on the hollows under her eyes. "Sit. Whisky? On slate." She slid onto the stool, elbows planting on the bar. Leather creaked under her. "Make it double. Straight." Glass clinked. Ice cracked under amber pour. He slid it over, poured his own. Clashed rims without toast. Drained half in one pull, hazel eyes steady over the rim. "You look wrecked, girl. Delivery gig? Eva mentioned something last month—Yu-Fei's place." Aurora sipped, burn chasing the chill from her bones. Set glass down deliberate. "Eva talks too much. Yeah, Golden Empress. Pays rent upstairs. You knew I moved in?" "Landlord perks. Heard the boots stomping overhead night one." He leaned on the bar, beard twitching. "But you? Dodging me. Thought you'd at least say hello after all this." She traced the glass rim, ice shifting. "Hello now. Better late?" His chuckle rasped dry. "Late's your specialty. Remember Prague '09? Your da rings me frantic—Evan that prick's already sniffing around you fresh from school. I pull strings, get you that internship at the embassy. You bolt next week. No note." Heat flushed her cheeks. She met his eyes, blue locking hazel. "Internship? Babysitting. I needed air, Si. Da's shadow, Mum's lectures. Evan was... escape." "Escape." He snorted, refilled her glass unasked. Signet ring tapped the bottle neck. "Came back to London twice after. Checked your flat. Empty. Then Eva says you're pre-law hotshot. Next, whispers of bruises." Aurora's fingers tightened. Scar itched under his stare. She rolled sleeve higher, exposing the pale moon mark. "Bruises heal. Degrees don't buy freedom." He pushed off the bar, limped to a shelf lined with dust-jacketed thrillers. Pulled a bottle—single malt, label peeling. Poured slow, knee buckling slight on the turn. "Freedom. Look at me. Field days over. Prague botch—knee shredded on a fire escape. Brass cuts me loose. Now this." Gestured wide, at the maps curling yellow, photos of operatives blurred to ghosts. "Nest's my empire. Contacts trickle in back room. But you could've called. Once." She knocked back the whisky, throat fire matching gut churn. Stood, paced three steps to a wall photo: young Silas, clean-shaven, arm slung over Brendan Carter at a Cardiff pub. Laughs frozen mid-bellow. "Called for what? Pity? Da worshipped you—MI6 legend saving his arse in that Belfast mess. You dangle stories, train me to spot tails, read rooms. Then poof. You're ghost after Prague." "Ghost." He drained his glass, set it thudding. Limped closer, hand on her shoulder—firm, callused. "Protected you. Evan had mates in low places. Told your da to ship you out. You ran anyway." Aurora shrugged him off, spun to face the bar. Fingers drummed the rail. "Ran to what? Lecture halls. Evan follows. Pins me in the dorm kitchen one night—knife out. I fight, scar him worse than this." Tapped wrist. "Cops laugh. Pre-law bitch versus his word. Packed that dawn." Silence stretched, broken by the punter's cough, pipe tamped fresh. Silas poured again, splashes uneven. "Should've dragged you here then. Flat was empty—sold the last tenant cheap." "Cheap." She barked laugh, sharp. Grabbed glass, swirled. "Everything's cheap now. Deliver egg rolls, dodge cabs. No suits, no briefs. Eva pushes law comeback. Says waste my brain." He circled back behind bar, hazel eyes boring. Pulled a stool for himself—rarity, legs splaying wide. "Waste? You're sharpest I knew post-Brendan. Outfoxed my drills at sixteen. Remember the warehouse game? You spot the plant in thirty seconds flat." Aurora smirked faint, memory flickering: rain-slick Cardiff docks, Silas barking orders, her ducking crates while Da timed. "Planted your cufflink. Amateur." "Learned from you." His limp dragged as he fetched peanuts, bowl clattering down. Picked one, cracked shell one-handed. "Regret that? Pushing you hard. Brendan begged—make her tough. Iron barrister stock." She crunched nuts, salt biting tongue. "Tough sells. Evan broke the shell. Now? Fragments." Leaned in, voice dropping. "You changed too. Spymaster to barkeep. Limp like a war wound badge." He flexed knee, wince pulling beard tight. "Badge pays. Network hums—blokes slip in back, through the shelf. Maps plot more than pints." Tapped a chart pinned crooked: Eastern Europe veins in red ink. "Prague ghosted me proper. Partner down, me crawling cobbles. Brass: 'retire, Blackwood.' Opened this week one later." Aurora's eyes traced the red lines, fingers itching to follow. "Ghosted. Like I did you." "Like." He cracked another peanut, shell shards scattering. "Your da called last year. Heart attack scare. Mentioned you—Evan's trial collapsed. Evidence vanished." She froze, glass midway. Blue eyes flashed. "Vanished. Your doing?" Hand paused, shell crumbling. "Contacts. Old favor." Silence again, thicker. Rain pattered window panes, neon buzzing discord. She set glass down soft. "Owe you. Again." "Owe." He waved it off, poured last drops. "Time's the debt. Ten years carved you hollow. Me? Crooked." Aurora slid off stool, jacket zipped halfway. Paused, hand on doorframe wood. "Hollow fills. Crooked straightens. Maybe next pint, stories swap proper." He nodded once, hazel steady. "Door's open. Flat key works bar too." She pushed into rain, green neon washing her shadow long. Door swung shut, bell jangling faint. Silas limped to the maps, fingers tracing Prague's dot. Peanuts untouched. Glass empty. The punter cleared throat, pipe glowing. Silas poured blind, mind elsewhere. Aurora climbed stairs overhead, boots thudding rhythm. Key scraped lock. Flat dark, rain drumming roof. She flicked light—bare bulb harsh on unboxed crates, delivery vest slung chair. Wrist scar gleamed. Collapsed bed, stared ceiling cracks. Silas downstairs wiped bar, limp forgotten in swipe. Signet ring caught amber. Ledger reopened, but eyes drifted to door. Rain hammered Soho streets. Nest swallowed quiet. Aurora rolled sleeve down, scar hidden. Phone buzzed—Eva text: *Drinks tomorrow? Spill on Silas.* Deleted unread. Lights out. Silas locked up, green neon flicked off. Limped alley, contacts waiting in shadow. Time hung heavy, regrets unspoken in the drip. No—wait, instructions say NEVER conclude, but scene needs fleshing. Expand conversation more. Backtrack mental. Need 1000+ words. Current draft short. Extend dialogue, actions. Rory enters, they talk longer. Reveal more backstory through convo. Past: Silas mentored young Rory when her da worked cases with MI6 peripherally. He taught her skills. She left for uni, lost touch. She had rough patch with Evan. He tried to help covertly. Regrets: He regrets retiring, not pursuing her. She regrets not reaching out, wasting years. Changed: Silas from suave agent to limping barman. Rory from promising student to jaded delivery girl. Tension builds as they circle regrets. Describe bar more, actions. Pour more drinks, move around. Patrons enter? No, keep intimate. Word count goal. Write fully. Restart prose properly.