The Last Place They’d Look

Catherine Fletcher

$ 3.99 USD

The bar door slides open. The pressure differential from the corridor of the station to the interior of the bar makes the ends of Tal’s hair shift, and they look up from their tablet to see who else has washed up here in this sad little place.

The newcomer is human, a little taller than Tal, long, dark hair in a cable of a braid that falls forward over their shoulder when they lean towards the Ashling tending the bar. The Ashling nods at whatever the newcomer requests, and one of its arms reaches back for a bottle while another grabs a glass, and yet another reaches for the tablet the human is handing it. This leaves the Ashling with three other arms to handle pouring a drink for another patron. The human does not appear to be at all fazed by the extra limbs, nor do they seem at all put off by the dingy interior of the bar.

Tal is immediately curious. A human with so much exposure to the far reaches that even an Ashling doesn’t give them pause is a human who might be worth knowing.

from The Last Place They’d Look