The Night Shift: A Red Dead Redemption 2 AU

iv. Lessons Learned

Between the end of her shift at two, trip home, and when she was expected back at Outlaw at eight that same morning, Mia had barely any time to sleep. And yet, she didn't, tossing and turning and then abandoning the bed entirely to pace her small apartment, Arthur's hateful glare - those brilliant, blue-green eyes, iced over - and searing admonishment rattling around in her mind.

I said, heard.

She didn't know how she'd finished the rest of her shift without dissolving into tears, moving around the dining room as though numb, eschewing her own dinner so she didn't have to sit near Arthur and the other kitchen staff. The thought of going to the restaurant in the morning, to her certain firing, filled her with dread.

Mia arrived at Outlaw via its rear door at five-to-eight, the takeout latte clutched in her fingers a kind of armour. Arthur was already in the kitchen, in his work apron and casual clothes, a slightly rumpled look about him. They stared at each other.

She was terrified to speak, but managed to point towards Dutch's empty office and squeak out: "Should I wait in there, or...?"

"Dutch ain't in today," Arthur said, tossing another navy, canvas apron onto the workbench. "Put that on."

Mia stared at the apron, bewildered. "So, I'm not getting fired?"

Arthur seemed genuinely surprised. "Hmm, fired? No. It's restock day. Can't get your clothes all dirty."

"Oh," Mia said, trying to keep the bald relief from her voice. She set down the latte and put the apron's bib around her neck, tying the strings around her waist. She found herself too afraid to speak, as if Arthur were just waiting to change his mind, so she watched him silently as he pulled various pots and pans onto the cooktop, surveyed a collection of pint containers along a shelf.

Before long, the rear door opened, flooding the kitchen in early-morning light. A Black man with long, silken hair came into the room, brushing at something invisible on the shoulder of his bulky cardigan, patterned with knit eagles. The man halted in his tracks at spotting Mia, a small "oh," coming from him.

"Charles, this is Mia, the new server," Arthur introduced, turning to lean comfortably against his station. "Mia, this is Charles, our supplier."

"I'm Mia, hi," she said, stepping forward with a cautious smile.

"Nice to meet you," Charles said back, a quick politeness, then turned back to Arthur, "Got a big guy for you today, Chef. Where do you want it?"

Did Arthur look excited? Was that even possible?

"Bench is fine."

Charles nodded and left, returning with a large, skinned animal on a handcart, equally beautiful in its sheer size and macabre in its lack of fur, eyes. The men and Mia stared at it, and then each other.

"Jesus," Arthur finally said, a small chuckle limning his voice. "Look at the size of this bastard." Definitely excited.

"Gorgeous antlers on him, too," Charles said. Antlers, thought Mia. A moose, maybe? Too big to be a deer. He caught her puzzling expression and pulled an antler out from below the carcass. "An elk." He handed the antler to her, which she quickly dropped her empty latte cup to support with both hands, the bone as unexpectedly heavy as it was magnificent.

Arthur crouched closer to the elk, pointing at something in the beast's neck. "See this, Mia?" She put the antler on the bench and leaned forward, seeing a clean, narrow hole. "That ain't from a bullet. It's from an arrow."

Mia's mouth gaped as she looked to Charles for confirmation. "You killed this with an arrow?" Charles only smiled, quietly pleased with himself.

Then, as if remembering, he slung four neatly wrapped wax packages onto the bench. "Rabbits, too, Arth."