The bell above the door rattled as the girl stepped in, the shop's air thick with the smell of old wood and stale smoke. She was new—two days in town, maybe less—and it showed. The way she moved, the way her eyes scanned the shelves, like she was still figuring out the place.

Ashtray clocked her the second she crossed the threshold. He didn't move from the chair behind the counter, just leaned back, arms crossed, watching. His jaw tightened.

She grabbed a bag of chips, a lighter, and set them on the counter without a word.

His voice was flat, but his stare was sharp, like she was already a problem.