Anya's POV
The sharp ringing of my phone echoed through the small apartment, disrupting the quiet which was in the room. I dropped the mascara wand I was holding and reached across the cluttered vanity table to grab it.
"Hello?" I pressed the phone to my ear, balancing it between my cheek and shoulder as I leaned closer to the mirror. I didn't bother looking at who it was. I knew who it was already.
There was a pause before my brother's voice finally came. "You're going to the bar again tonight?"
"Good evening to you too," I said, painting the last coat of mascara over my lashes. "Yes. I'm going. Don't start. Don't even think about it."
A sigh escaped softly into my ear from the other side. I could picture him pinching the bridge of his nose like he always did when I annoyed him. "You don't need that job. I told you I'll handle everything. Rent, bills, whatever you need…"
"Yeah, I know," I interrupted softly. "But I like it. It's not about the money."
"It's not safe."
