Olivia, or Emily currently, carefully wiped down the counter. Her actions were methodical as she made sure no new splotches marred its oak surface. There was little she could do about the existing stains, but none would be added under watch.Running her fingertips across it, she frowned as her pads caught on some stickiness. She dampened the cloth and went over it again. Magic flowed into her limbs as she exerted more pressure on the smudge, and she took care not to overdo it and fracture the wood.Tables and chairs she could replace, but the bar's countertop would require hiring a carpenter, and given her occupation as a Federation agent, the fewer people around her workplace, the better.She glanced at the louts who graced the establishment that employed her. A few noticed her gaze, breaking off from their spirited conversations to raise their bottles or mugs in her direction.Emily nodded affably, waving a finger to indicate she'd received their request for more rounds. A brilliant smile graced her face. Part of it was because that was who Emily was, but a hint of Olivia shone through.When she first arrived, the bar goers would crowd around her, belching orders with their rancid breath. Some even had the gall to get handsy with her. Now? They waited their turn, respected her space, and even somewhat cleaned up after themselves. The last point was a work in progress.And all it took was volunteering some of the rowdier bunch to participate in some light redecorating. She was sure they saw breaking chairs over their heads differently, but they either fell in line or left.They'd brought it on themselves, really, not understanding what the word 'no' meant. She would never have had to deal with this back home.At the same time, she acknowledged they were not entirely at fault. Their society was primitive, more often than not relying on fists over reason. Personally, she blamed the institution of nobility. They (...)