"That's a very beautiful necklace."
The voice came from behind her at the bar, easy and unhurried, carrying the warmth of someone who had long ago stopped performing anything and simply was what he was.
Didi turned with her natural smile already in place.
The man settling onto the barstool was elderly, with silver hair swept back from a kind face, and thick-framed glasses sitting over eyes that were considerably sharper than their warmth initially suggested.
He wore a light jacket over a simple shirt and comfortable trousers, his whole appearance communicating someone who dressed to feel good rather than to be noticed.
He carried himself with the relaxed ease of a person who found something genuinely interesting about everywhere he went and everyone he met.
He looked around the bar with the slow, appreciative attention of someone taking in a place properly.
'Hm,' Didi thought, studying him for just a moment behind her smile. 'Hello there.'
"Yes," she said. "I got it from my boyfriend."
The old man's eyebrows lifted pleasantly. "He has good taste."
"He has very good taste," she agreed. "What can I get you?"
He named something simple and she poured it without fuss.
From there the conversation found its own rhythm the way it does when both people are genuinely content to let it. He asked how the bar was going. She told him honestly.
He commented on the neighbourhood with the specific knowledge of someone familiar with it, and she listened with genuine interest. He made a dry remark about the particular stubbornness of Hell's Kitchen residents when it came to trusting new establishments, and she laughed because it was accurate.
He spoke of humanity with the weathered warmth of a longtime observer—someone who had watched the messy, confusing dance of life for so long that he couldn't help but love the dancers.
"You've been here long?" he asked.
"Three days," she said.
He glanced around at the comfortable half-full room, the easy noise of people settled into their evening. "You've made it feel longer than that," he said, and it was a compliment delivered without ceremony.
The conversation drifted, as conversations in bars tend to do, toward the personal.
"Your boyfriend," he said, after a comfortable pause. "The one who gave you the necklace. Must be someone worth keeping around."
Didi's smile took on a particular quality. "He is," she said. "You've actually met him. You were the one who married him, in fact. As a pastor. Five days ago to, two very beautiful women."
The old man's expression arranged itself into something that was either genuine surprise or a flawless impression of it. "I'm not a pastor," he said pleasantly. "I'm a janitor. Over at Midtown High, as it happens."
Didi looked at him with the precise amount of belief she chose to extend, which was exactly as much as she found appropriate. "If you say so," she said. "I'll take your word for it." She tilted her head slightly. "I don't think I caught your name. I'm Didi."
"Mr. Lee," he said. He picked up his glass and took a sip, then nodded with the satisfaction of someone whose standards were specific and had been met. "Very good." He set it down. "Now. This boyfriend of yours had two wives. And you're not bothered by that?"
"He has two wives and three girlfriends," Didi said. "And every one of us is happy with it. We all know each other. We all accept each other." She folded her hands on the bar. "I know it sounds unusual."
Lee considered this in the way he seemed to consider most things, without rushing toward any particular conclusion. "I'm an old man," he said, with the self-deprecating ease of someone who used that phrase as both observation and armour.
"The young people operate in ways I can't always follow." He raised his glass slightly. "But if everyone is happy and no one is being harmed, then an old man's opinion on the matter isn't worth very much."
A brief pause, and then a small dry smile. "He's a lucky man, I'll say that. One lucky bastard."
Didi laughed. "He really is."
A comfortable silence settled between them. Lee swirled his glass lightly and looked around the room again with that same unhurried appreciation.
Then Didi looked at him with the same easy expression she always wore, and there was a slight narrowing to her eyes that had not been there a moment before. "Mr. Lee," she said. "Why are you really here?"
He smiled at his glass. A knowing, unhurried smile. "I'm an old man looking for somewhere pleasant to pass the time," he said. "Once you reach my age you understand what that looks like." He took another sip. "The drink is good here and the company is good."
He set the glass down and straightened slightly from the barstool. "Actually, I think it's about time I headed off."
His eyes found hers directly, and his voice carried something measured underneath its lightness. "Your boyfriend is about to arrive. I have a feeling he's bringing a very good surprise with him for everyone here." He paused. "I hope you all find the happiness you're looking for in the life you've chosen."
He was almost fully off the stool when he added, in the same easy tone, "One more thing. Watch your back. Someone is trying to find out about you."
The smile on his face did not change. "Just a harmless warning from an old man. Pay it the attention it deserves."
Didi rose from her lean against the bar. Her eyes were steady on him. "Am I welcome here?" she asked quietly. The question was direct. "I'm not from around here. I want to know honestly."
Lee stopped and turned back to her fully. The smile that settled on his face was the most genuine thing in the room.
"I didn't try to send you away," he said. "We've had a good conversation. You're smart enough to know the answer to that question already."
He looked around the bar at the comfortable evening crowd, the amber light, the evidence of three days of something working properly. "You haven't caused any harm by being here. Why would anyone try to send you away?" He looked back at her. "Everyone here seems to like you. Your boyfriend and his women love you."
He raised one finger with the gravity of a man making his most important point. "And your drinks are wonderful. I will be back after a long day sometime, when I have people with me who deserve something good." He gave a small, easy wave. "See you later, Didi."
He walked to the door, and a moment later he was gone.
The bar settled back around her into its comfortable murmur.
Didi lowered herself back into her chair behind the bar. She picked up her glass and drained it in one long, unhurried swallow. She set it down and stared at the door for a quiet moment.
'So that's how he looks in this universe,' she thought. 'A kind old man with good jokes and a very specific kind of knowing.'
A slow smile crossed her face. 'Different from what I expected. But I like him. He had a real charm about him.'
She turned the pendant at her throat between her fingers.
'And if the one at the top of the chair says I'm welcome here, then there is nothing left to be afraid of.' She stood up from the chair and reached for her apron strings to untie them. 'The warning, though. That one goes straight to Ethan the moment I see him.'
She glanced at the door again.
'He's coming back now. Which means I need to be home when he arrives.' She pulled the apron free and set it on the bar. A thought moved through her that was warmer than she usually allowed herself unguarded. 'I hope that honeymoon was everything they needed it to be.'
She picked up her coat from the hook at the back. 'Because I have been waiting for a trip of my own. And I intend to collect on that.'