He edged through the door, glancing about with a slow turn of his head. The pub was decorated with rich burgundies and dark-stained wood, preserving the old ways of Victoria while still indulging in things like electric bulbs hidden behind bubbly milk glass. There were not many patrons yet, but it was also not so slow that he was worried about the quality of the food. This could work. Thade nodded to himself as he wandered in and found a table toward the back corner. The subdued lighting made him feel hidden in a way, more capable of being a quiet observer while his brain settled in. "This is good," he mumbled to himself. "Okay."

People filtered in, and Thade alternated between watching them and looking over the menu propped on his table. All the accents were beautiful to listen to. Nothing like the harshness of New York commuters or New Jersey transplants he dealt with back home in Connecticut.

He was so absorbed in listening and viewing that it took him some time to notice that no one had approached him with water or an offer to put an order in. He looked around, confused. There were people eating, and there were servers on the floor, so what was he doing wrong?

"Oi."

The stranger had to repeat himself before Thade realized he was calling to him. He jerked his head to the left, toward the table one space over. "Sorry?"

Sitting alone with a deep red beer in front of him, the stranger did not seem overly concerned about much of anything. Certainly wasn't worried about ironing his blue shirt or buttoning the top three buttons. He looked like he could slide out of his banquette seat if he just shifted forward a couple more inches. His worn leather jacket at least looked as though it was regularly conditioned, but the collar on it was half-popped, and it wasn't likely he'd be deciding if it should be all up or down any time soon. His stubble was a day or two overgrown to be considered intentionally groomed, and his short, dark blond hair was finger-brushed into place and riding the line between having gel in it or just needing to be washed. What could this person possibly want of Thade?

The stranger moved his narrowed, pale brown eyes toward the bar and, without shifting his hand from where it rested atop the banquette, he pointed. "Y'order up there, mate." His accent was faint but distinctly Australian around the e's.

"Oh!" Thade laughed as he cringed, and he felt the blood rush straight to his face. "Thank you. Yeah, I was wondering." He apparently looked like it, too. Fantastic.

"And don't leave a tip, yeah? No need." It was hard to tell in the dim light, but the stranger seemed amused by Thade, even though his expression remained level.

"Yeah, I read something about that. Thank you." He hurried up to the bar, waited several more centuries for a bartender to finally notice him, and put in an order for fish and chips.

"Sommat to drink?" the unimpressed server asked.

Thade was about to say no, but then he remembered again: this was the whole point of going to lunch in a pub. Trying new things. Trying to find what suited him, for his own sake. "Ah, I.... What do you recommend? I don't drink much."

The bartender half rolled his eyes—maybe? Thade was pretty sure he didn't imagine the bored disdain on this guy's face—but he turned around and pulled a draft from a tap whose handle read 'Strongbow.' He half slid the drink to Thade, and he handed the bartender a twenty and made sure to stay for the change. With his transaction completed, he took his drink back to his corner.

In that time, the man who had given him the advice had moved to the table next to his. "Eh, there we are," he said giving Thade a solemn nod as he sat back down. "What'd ya get?"

"Ah, fish and chips."

"To drink."

"Oh!" Thade looked at his drink as he set it down. "Strongbow?"

"Not bad. You alright, mate?"

"Huh?" Thade looked at him. Nothing about him screamed that he was the sort who was actually worried about Thade's situation. So, he was being polite. Had to be it. "Ah, yeah! Got my order in. I should be fine now."

"American?"

Was that the sort of question kidnappers asked? Oh my God, I need to stop being paranoid. "Yeah." He smiled. "What gave it away? The accent?"

"Well, that and the 'What the actual hell am I doing?' look while you sat there wonderin' where the service was at." He smirked. "Though the sweater vest had me off the scent a moment."

"Oh." Thade laughed the laugh of a man who wanted to die of embarrassment, and he pulled off the vest, adjusting his glasses after they caught on the hem. Now he was left with the white polo underneath. "It was just cold on the plane."

"Just got here?"

"Yeah. Trying to beat the jet lag."

"Smart call." The stranger wiped away some errant strands of his hair—they were all errant in their way, really—before he sipped his beer. "Not botherin' you, am I? I got nowhere to be for a while."

"No!" Thade followed suit and drank his cider. It...was not terrible, at least. "No, I'm good. Nice to meet you. I'm Thade."

"Cassian." He took his hand and jerked it into a brief shake. "Gotta ask: you one of them hipster types?"

Hipster? Since when did he put off any sort of 'cool' vibe? "No, why?"

"You got the Buddy Holly thing goin'." He motioned vaguely toward Thade's glasses.

"Who?"

The stranger picked up his beer and muttered, "Ah Christ," into it as he took a long sip. "'Peggy Sue?'" He laughed, and the resulting smile was one that easily disguised the circles under his eyes. "Nobody appreciates the classics. Hell, I barely appreciate 'em. Dun' matter. What brings you here?"

Thade was not certain what he thought about this Cassian person. He had the muscle and the streaked sun-bleached hair of an Aussie surfer in his prime, one whose skin soaked in too much radiation by day and showed the signs of too much drink at night. Subtracting those factors, he was possibly twenty-three at most, but his tawny eyes had a sharpness that did not belong to a beach bum. Premature laugh lines sprouted from their outer corners, and his brow sported a couple of faint lines above one eyebrow that must have seen its share of incredulous events. Whoever this guy was, he had some character about him.

"What brings me here? Um, I'm just...I'm taking a break."

"Gap year?"

"No," Thade shook his head, "just the summer."

"Whatcha takin' a break from?"

Great question. Thade's throat tightened a moment. "I'm just trying to figure out some stuff. Clear my head."

"Yeah?" Cassian used the back of his hand to nudge Thade's cider closer. "What's gotcha wound up?"

Was this how people typically acted in bars? Maybe. Picking up his cider and taking a careful sip, he thought about the reruns of Cheers his father would watch on his rare early evenings at home. Ted Danson certainly did give the impression that pubs were a cheap alternative to therapy. But Thade was no lush, and who knew if he would have the opportunity to return here night after night? So, why not try spilling it all? Or at least a little of his woes. "Um," he started before he coughed through the fizz burning his nose. "I'm just trying to figure out if I want to continue with my major or switch again."

"What's your major in?"

"Accounting."

"Good money, that."

"Great money. But not really.... It's not my thing."

"What's your thing then?" Cassian cocked his head a little to one side and kept his eyes focused on Thade. This guy was actually interested in what a nineteen-year-old American was worried about? He had the sort of gaze that made Thade feel like his concern was genuine, and a warm upturn to his lips that made the teen feel an odd camaraderie, a welcome into the world of mature-yet-free socialization which he felt he'd been putting off for the first two years of his college career.

Thade smiled without intending to, but it just felt so good to be doing something other than study and follow someone else's plan for him. "Literature. I like reading, researching, writing essays. Nerd." He laughed and was relieved when Cassian grinned along with him. "I'm the kid who read The Illiad when he was twelve. For fun."

"You thought The freakin' Illiad was fun?"

"No." That got a laugh out of Cassian, making Thade smile more. "No, it was the worst. But I tried reading it for fun."

"Alright, so you can still be saved." Cassian clinked the rim of his glass against Thade's, inspiring the teen to drink more. "So why not study lit?"

"Not sure what I'd do with it. I mean, I'd probably be a professor, but they don't make much."

"So? Lots of professors in the world can pay their own rent."

"Yeah, I know." Thade winced. "I just..." My parents would kill me. Possibly disown me. I'm lucky I could talk them into accounting and not law. I'm too quiet, I'm too unmotivated, I'm... "I dunno." Where was his drink? He was starting to see the appeal. If he was drinking, he didn't have to talk. When he was done with a gulp, he asked, "What do you do?"

Cassian hemmed and groaned a moment, then brightened up into a grin. A waitress approached, wearing a would-be conservative white shirt, except that it had one button too many undone. As she set Thade's fish and chips down she kept her gaze on Cassian. "Need anythin', love?" she asked, all smiles.

"Y'know what I'd really like?" he asked in return, leaning forward and folding his arms in front of him as he fixed her with those smiling eyes. "I'd love a glass of whiskey. The good stuff, couple drops of water, just enough to open 'er up. Whattaya recommend?"

"I'll look over what we got." She was absolutely looking something over right then and there.

"Do. I put meself in your merciful hands." He grinned, showing off a set of unfairly white teeth.

"Can do." She bobbed ever so slightly, and then walked away, her hips rocking as she went.

Cassian sat back, considering those hips as he did, then looked at Thade. Then he laughed. "What?"

Thade blinked. "What?"

"You look like you just ate off seafood or somethin'!" He chuckled as he spoke.

"No! It's fine!" He just... People spoke like that? That was a thing? Did he cross paths with the Down Under 007? "Do you know her?"

"Shit, of course I don't!" He laughed. "I'd be askin' her, I dunno, how her mother is or somethin' if I did. Why? You want her number?"

"What? I don't know her either!"

"That wasn't my question." The smirk he gave Thade was positively wolfish.

"No!" It was Thade's turn to laugh now, albeit out of sheer nerves. "No, I do not need... No. Thank you."

"Mate, I'm not sayin' you should get down on one knee. She's not exactly lookin' for commitment. You get me?"

"I, I totally get you. I get it. Yes." What was his life right now? Nearly two decades of life, and it took going to England to find a wingman? He fumbled for an excuse, anything that would sound less lame than 'I'm just not interested.' "I'm staying at a hostel right now. And I don't know.... My money situation is sort of up in the air right now."

"Why's that?" Cassian's eyebrow with the creases above it went up as he cocked his head to the side in intrigue.

"Um, I'm...I don't know if I'm going back to my job. Or home."

The sounds of patrons eating, drinking, talking, laughing, they all filled the silent space between Thade and Cassian.

"Huh." Cassian sipped his beer. "Why?"

Thade gulped. Then he full-on swigged as much of his cider as he could stand in one go. "I just need to be away. I don't...I just need to be on my own for a while. I have enough saved to get me through a couple months here. I'll figure it out. I'll get a work visa. Or something." He hoped. He prayed. He desperately dreamed. To go through thousands of dollars, just to have to go back home penniless and keep working the same part-time job under his father's gaze, continue with the same degree, walk down the same path...

Silence fell between them again. Thade looked at Cassian for his response, and saw the man nodding slowly. "Little bit dramatic."

This was the first person Thade had voiced his half-formed plan to, and he was responding with the exact words Thade was scared someone with a brain would say. "Yeah," he sighed. "I know. It's—"

"But everyone needs a walkabout once in a while. Get your head straight. Maybe don't spend all your money, if you can help it, yeah?"

So...he wasn't crazy? Thade smiled. "Yeah, I'll try."

The waitress came sauntering back with a tray. "Here we are." She set a napkin down, then a rocks glass filled a third of the way up with a beautiful amber liquid on the table in front of Cassian.

Cassian plucked the whiskey from the table. "Cheers." he winked at her, focusing his gaze entirely on her as he sipped.

Thade rubbed the back of his neck as he felt himself fade into the background.

"So," the waitress said as she glanced over her shoulder toward the bar. "I'm just going on my break. If you need anything...?"

"Mm," Cassian smirked. "Think I'll just finish this and get goin'."

"Sounds good." She left them, blushing, and headed out the door.

Cassian sat up straight and cracked his back before he took a deeper sip of his drink. "Listen," he grunted through his mild reaction to the whiskey, "be a professor if you wanna be a professor. If you like research, you'll be tops. Just take care of yourself, alright?" He started to get to his feet.

Thade glanced away and lifted his chin. "Thought you said you had nowhere to be for a while."

Cassian quirked his head, giving Thade a second glance. "Pardon?"

"You said you'd be staying for a while. But now you're leaving?"

The silence following was momentary, but intense all the same. Cassian seemed to be examining Thade, carefully skimming up and down his face with his eyes. "I did. Good memory."

"It's not like you said it all that long ago."

"True." Cassian half grinned. "You'd be surprised how much people forget about me, though." He was quiet again for a moment before he took a deep breath. "Anyway. Pay for my drink for me, would you? Here." He pulled out his wallet, took out some notes, and set them under his empty beer glass. "Take care of yourself, Thade." Cassian did not look back as he took long strides straight out the door after the waitress.

Thade watched him go, then took a deep breath. "That was weird," he mumbled to himself. Fun, but incredibly weird. And why hadn't Cassian been properly charged before he got his whiskey? Apparently he made quite the impression on that waitress. Thade lifted the beer glass and gathered the notes.

There were way too many. That was the first thing he noticed. But what made his breath stop was the ‘£50’ printed on the top note. He flipped to the second. Another. And another. And another.

This total stranger had left him no less than six hundred pounds.

"Wh...?" No. No no no. Thade jumped to his feet and ran out the door, but Cassian was nowhere to be seen on either end of the street.

Thade's heart was beating in his throat, and his arms felt numb. He stared down at the stack of cash in his hands, then folded it quickly and stuffed it in his pocket. The last thing he wanted to do was advertise that he had this kind of cash on him.

Who the hell would do something like that? Just...just throw cash at a random college student? How was he—

"'Scuse."

"Oh." Thade stumbled out of the doorway of the pub to let a couple past him. Shaken from his shock, he went back inside and paid for the whiskey, then sat back down to eat. What else could he do? He knew nothing of the man except his nationality and his first name. Thade took his time finishing his meal, keeping his eyes on the door. Eventually, the waitress came back, her shirt buttoned up properly now and her hair down rather than tied up in a bun like it had been earlier, but Cassian did not follow. Thade continued to wait, letting his chips get cold as he chewed on them slowly, but his benefactor never returned.

That was that. Thade gathered his messenger bag and headed back out into the world. He was now six hundred pounds richer, six hundred pounds further into his stay.

Unless he could find Cassian. Yes. If he happened to stumble across the stranger again, he would return the money, absolutely. There was no way he could keep it. He hadn't done anything to earn it! But until then, he could not help but feel just a little bit cushioned by the windfall. Maybe this trip was meant to be. Maybe his life-long desire to visit England had some inscrutable purpose behind it. Who knew? For now, all he could do was promise himself he would make the best of his time here, for himself and for the kindness of his temporary acquaintance.