In the weeks that followed, Rook came to the bar more and more often. The atmosphere in the bar underwent a change each time he walked in the door. The customers seemed to like his rough charm and easy-going smile.
On occasion I’d catch him silently gazing in my direction and I felt a pang of something I hadn't felt in a long time—jealousy. It wasn't that I wanted Rook for myself; because I didn’t. It was more the way he looked at me, with a genuine concern that seemed to have vanished from Lucien's eyes.
The night passed, and the bar remained packed. Rook's laughter rang out above the clinking of glasses and the murmur of conversations and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of nostalgia for simpler times---the times Rook and I had worked together at the compound's bar.
As the last custo
