For the first time ever since finding myself here, I manage to wake up without feeling like crap. Here being the Slag in general, that is. While I don't have any complaints about my sleeping conditions at The Hole, being in the process of recovering from a gunshot wound doesn't really equate to a good night's sleep.
I grab the Orsa Ronin commlink lying on the nightstand next to my bed—which is way more comfortable than I expected it to be—to check the time. 6:17 AM. Could be better, but I'm dead sure I'm still the first one up. This bunch I've fallen in with aren't exactly morning people, but at least Spot has the same excuse I did.
I throw on a plain white t-shirt and black sweatpants—courtesy of Springbok, of course—and head towards the communal bathroom on the second floor, treading as light as I can. No sense being an inconsiderate asshole. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror after splashing water on my face. I still look like I've seen better days, but I don't look unwashed anymore. Gold star for Luc, for managing to keep basic hygiene.
Time to haul ass to the common room and get the coffee machine going. Not a big ask, considering it's just throwing in a pod and pressing a button. It feels good to keep a routine going. The past week has been just that: wake up, wash up, do breakfast, workout, and help around the garage until it's time to turn in for the night. Not that there's all that much to do around here. Mostly just stacking crates of whatever stuff Flash brings in.
The soft beep of the coffee machine pulls me out of my thoughts. Ah, that's the stuff right there. Nothing like the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the morning. I rummage around some more and get bacon strips going in the pan. Godsdamn, that's a good sizzle. Almost makes a man forget he's on the run.
I'm only a few bites in when I hear the creak of a door. The smell of coffee and bacon probably stirred one of my new housemates awake. The metallic click-clacking of footsteps let me know who it is. I look up from my plate and see Springbok in all her morning glory. And by morning glory I mean barely awake and zombie-like.
“Luc.” For a moment, her hoarse morning voice reminded me of Saba.
“Springbok.” I continue eating my breakfast while she pours herself a cup of coffee. She pulls up the chair next to me and sits down with a soft thud, steaming cup in hand. She takes a sip and leans back to stare into space.
I get it, I'm not a fan of small talk myself. If anything, I appreciate the silence while I—
Her hand snakes towards my side of the table and grabs a strip of bacon off my plate that quickly disappears into her mouth.
“Did you just—”
“Mhm.”
“I can get another batch going for you if you'd like.”
“Mm… nah. We haven't done anything to warrant you cooking breakfast for me yet.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
The implication wasn't exactly subtle. The coffee I sipped agrees with me, going down the wrong pipe and forcing me to clear my throat. “You're right.”
Being honest, I don't dislike interactions like this. I guess that's written on my face, because she gives me a light jab in the shoulder while putting on her usual smirk. “Not saying anything about the ‘yet’ bit?”
“I noticed the qualifier, yeah.” Another thing I notice is her hand now resting on my shoulder. She's staring into nothing again. Be proactive, Luc. “Long night?”
Nailed it.
She turns her head to look straight at me, her aqua cybereyes glowing softly. “You can say that. I wish I could say it was for serious work, but…” She takes another sip from her coffee. “I was too into climbing the ranked ladder in Chiyoda Division III and before I knew it, there goes the time.”
“They still make that series? Huh.”
“You play?”
I see her raise her eyebrow, the one not covered by her hair. “Used to. I'm not much of a gamer these days.”
“I'll tell Flash to get us one more VR chair. I'm promoting you to my ranked duo partner.”
I raise both of my hands. “I'm not against it, but I'm sure you didn't recruit me into the crew just to be your gaming buddy.”
“True. And before you say it, I didn't recruit you just to lift heavy things around the garage either. Matter of fact, I got a job lined up that needs your skillset from the get-go.”
“Is that so? What sort of job?”
“I can tell you that it's not going to be high stakes right off the bat, but the client is what you'd call a heavy hitter around here.” She pauses and puts her cup down.
“Go on.”
“The job itself won't fuck up your moral compass, but the client might.”
“Who is it?”
“Patience, Luc. I'll share the details when everyone's up. I'd rather not repeat the brief twice.”
“Fair enough.” I grab another bacon strip and chew on it.
The sun's glare begins to invade us through the skylight even more at this point, forcing me to shield my eyes with a hand. Springbok doesn't seem bothered at all. Probably has glare protection installed in those eyes. An unlit cigarette dangles between her lips now. I pull out my lighter and flick it open, offering the flame to her. She leans forward to meet me halfway.
“So what's the deal between you and this Onigiri person anyways?” I'm not sure why I asked that. Sure, I was curious, but I'm not one to pry. Usually.
She clicks her tongue, with something I can best describe as mild annoyance etched on her face. “She's a right dickhead, is what.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. She's a fellow matrix jockey. Unhinged and takes things too personal, too far.”
“Ah. That type.” McNamara's smug mug flashed in my mind for a split second.
“Yep.” She grabs the last piece of bacon on my plate, just as fast as the first time. “You mind waking up everyone else, Luc? Thanks.”
I stare at my suddenly empty plate for a bit and push myself up. “—you got it.”