Closing Time

The last patron had stumbled out, the door swinging shut behind him with a final *click*. The bar was quiet now, the only sounds the clink of glasses being washed and the hum of the machine powering down for the night.

Clara stood in the staff room, now dressed in an oversized bar t-shirt—*The Busty Brew* emblazoned across the chest in gold lettering. Her blouse, ruined beyond repair, was wadded up in the trash. She flexed her shoulders, testing the weight—or rather, the *lack* of it. The procedure had reversed itself as promised; her breasts felt normal again, the membrane dissolved, the gel absorbed. No lingering bourbon, no strange sensations. Just… her.

Veyra leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching her with an expression that was half amusement, half genuine curiosity. "Well?"

Clara exhaled, running a hand through her hair. "You pass."

Veyra blinked. "Just like that?"

"No, not *just* like that." Clara fixed her with a sharp look. "Your sanitation protocols are… surprisingly thorough. The machine’s sterilization is up to code. The staff follows procedure. And—" She hesitated, then admitted, grudgingly, "The membrane tech is impressive. No contamination, no residue. It’s… fine."

Veyra’s smirk returned. "High praise."

"But," Clara said, pointing a finger at her, "if I ever—*ever*—hear about another ‘accidental activation,’ I *will* shut you down. No warnings. No second chances."

Veyra held up her hands in mock surrender. "Wouldn’t dream of it."

Clara grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. "And get a *proper* warning label on that machine."

"Yes, *Inspector*," Veyra drawled, but there was a note of respect in her voice now.

Clara paused at the door, glancing back one last time. The bar was dim, the stools upturned, the counter wiped clean. It was just another place, really. Weird, yes. Unconventional, absolutely. But not… *filthy*. Not like she’d assumed.

She shook her head. "I’m still not telling anyone about this."

Veyra laughed, rich and warm. "Your secret’s safe with me, darling."

Clara stepped out into the night, the door swinging shut behind her.

Somewhere inside, the machine whirred softly, waiting for tomorrow.