Working and earning her own money kept her coming back even though she hated the 'uniform' that she had to wear. At least there was a nice thick bar between her and the patrons who frequented the place. That was some small consolation at least. How long had she worked there? She couldn't be sure. Days seemed to flow into each other and she lost count previous to yesterday. But she was here and she earned money and she could pay for her little room elsewhere. That was good and she knew that although names and other things seemed to slip through the holes in her mind.

She heard talking, whispering. Words about a death. Something about back and something else about 'not the same'. She wasn't sure exactly who they spoke of. The name meant little for names seldom attached to faces in her mind. She continued with her work, serving drinks as they were ordered from those sitting at the bar and making drinks for the girls who ordered them for those who were not sitting at the bar.

Sometimes little flashes flickered inside, things that had to be memories but they were elusive little things that came and went; taunting her with fuzzy disjointed images. They did not often interfere with her work for her hands seemed to be able to continue unerringly even if her internal minds eye was focused elsewhere. Slender fingers found glasses, obtained bottles, poured and delivered without missing a beat. When she noticed a supply getting low, Anya murmured so to the red-haired green eyed girl who seemed to be a leader of sorts. It would never do, after all, to run out of anything. If the red-head wasn't in charge of restocking, she would know who was.