Ceres Dahal was cursed by a witch to live forever and watch her loved ones die.
Steve Rogers woke after 70 years in the ice and emerged into a whole new world.
They may not have much. But, in a universe that's constantly changing faster than they ca...
FOR A SEVENTY-THREE-YEAR-OLD woman, Ceres's night life is pretty active.
The bar is packed tonight. Most of the customers are male, their chatter and yells filling the air as they react to some sports game playing from the various televisions mounted to the walls. They shriek in excitement, curse out of anger, and down beer like their stomachs are bottomless, gaping holes. Their faces slowly redden and their optics glaze over. The sharp tang of alcohol fills the air, stinging nostrils and making eyes water.
All of this is background information to Ceres. She'd gotten accustomed to this long ago — by the third week of this job back in '02, actually. It's a necessity when working as a bartender. If she hadn't learned to drown out the constant noise and filter what she actually needs to hear, she'd go home with a pounding headache after every shift.
Even if Charles occasionally helps with the bills, being a barista alone isn't going to cover the remaining portion of her rent. Inflation had called for a second job. Ilyas's salary is hefty, but still not enough for them to afford the apartment that they have thanks to the cost of living in New York.
"Hey, sweetie," a man says as he leans over the bar, causing Ceres to look up from the glass she'd been drying with a dishrag. He has the look of someone who's tipsy but not quite drunk yet— wide-set eyes glassy, pale skin slightly flushed, a flirtatious smile on his lips that are surrounded by a salt-and-pepper beard. He must be at least fifty. "Gimme a Brunt Pilsner, will ya?"
Ceres flashes him a smile of her own and sets the glass down on a low shelf, noticing the way his eyes drop to the cleavage that her black tank top exposes. "Coming right up."
She turns toward the craft beer section and drops her smile. The things she does for tips. Though, she supposes, using her body for some extra cash isn't that bad. Back when she'd first started, she may have let some people take body shots off of her when Ilyas had been out of work. Showing off her assets to a few men isn't the worst she's done in times of need.
Sure enough, the customer gives her a tip in thanks, raking his gaze over her tall form one more time before turning his attention back to his group of buddies. People fall apart at the idea of anything sexual. Ceres will never understand it — well, she had once or twice with the few partners she was physically intimate with — but understanding this is part of the reason why she can afford to keep her apartment.
