I spent most of the next couple of days inside, only leaving my crate to buy food and shower. I read, lurked message boards, watched movies, cleaned my guns, and practiced drawing the SKH 'til my arms got sore. The most exciting thing I did was walk two blocks to clean my clothes at the Phu Kien laundromat, which I liked because it was located in a truly ancient church building, the rough-cut stone blocks reminding me of a castle. I also did plenty of sleeping, trying to time-travel to a future when I wasn't aching and itchy all over. A lot of trying to sleep, too, thinking about what Doc Laggard had found out. Wondering where in the fuck I'd come from, and how, and why. Walker called me once to make sure I was alright but otherwise I didn't hear from him.

After five days of rest I was feeling both better and bored. Doc had used some top-notch sutures and even on my forehead they were mostly dissolved. It was a little after ten in the morning and I was still lying in bed. I was dully reading the same paragraph of Demonic Ranger Nora over and over again when there was a knock on the door.

I rolled off the bed and grabbed my coilgun, cursing myself for never getting around to drilling a peephole in the door.

"Who is it?" I called.

"Hi Sharkie! It's me, Dezhda."

I looked around frantically, eyes darting to the hamper full of unfolded clothes and the empty water bottles everywhere. Well, nothing to be done about it now.

I stuck the gun in the back of my waistband and opened the door. Dezhda was indeed standing there, radiant as ever. Her hair was down past her shoulders, brown and wavy, and she had on jeans, a white blouse, and rubberized canvas sneakers. It was the first time I'd ever seen her in casual clothes. There was a smile on her face and I couldn't help returning it.

"What's up, Dezi? Good to see you."

"I'm doing-Oh no, Sharkie! Your poor face!"

What? Had I punched myself in my sleep or-oooohhh, yeah. The cut on my forehead. I'd gotten so used to its itching I'd nearly forgotten. "Don't worry about it. It's healing well. Hardly even hurts anymore."

She gave me a worried look, the freckles across her nose scrunching up. "Are you sure? Mr. Walker mentioned it but I didn't think its would be so...I mean, I can go to the pharmacy for you if you want, or-"

"No, no!" I stuck up my hands, trying to placate her. "I'm okay, I promise. My doctor did a good job."

There was a skeptical little frown on her face, like she thought I was going to keel over any second, but when I didn't she relaxed. "Alright, if you say so..."

"Thanks for worrying, but seriously, I'm fine. So what were you saying, before-"

"That's right! I'm actually doing really well! I like my new job a lot. There's plenty to do and Mrs. Sanverth-she's my new boss, I think you'd like her-is easy to work with. And Sharkie"-she leaned in, locking eyes with me over the black frames of her glasses-"the money! They pay me daily, enough I might stop waitressing!"

"Seriously? That's awesome, Dezi, just great. I'm glad it's working out." I really was. I'd helped someone out, at least. "You want to come in? It's freakin' cramped but it beats standing on the catwalk."

"Sure!" I stepped aside to let her in, moving over to the corner. She shut the door behind her and slowly spun around. Taking in just how little there was to take in, probably. I couldn't help staring a little. I'd only even seen her in baggy work uniforms, but now that her clothes fit a little better I realized she was-well, to put it indelicately, girl was stacked. Mr. Boyfriend was a lucky guy-but no. I shook myself mentally. Dezi was my friend; I didn't want to make things awkward.

"You have this all to yourself?" she asked me.

I couldn't help looking around as if for a spot to place a roommate. Maybe under the bed, if they were a corpse. "Yeah, just me. It's not-"

"Oh, that must be so nice," she said wistfully, plunking down on the foot of the bed. "I Sometimes I just want a little peace and quiet, but somebody's always running around or yelling or fixing their motorcycle or something...not that I don't like my family of course, but still. You know?"

Being an only child I didn’t know, but I guess I understood. And I was also glad she wasn't making fun of me, of course. "Makes sense. I never really thought of it that way, how nice it is to have a place that's just yours."

She nodded. "And it's so cozy in here, too! I like your posters. Is that one as old as it looks?" She pointed to Princess Tomoe, stuck up by the door in its plastic sleeve.

"From the Sun Age," I said, a bit of pride in my voice.

"Really? Oh, wow..." Her hands went up towards her mouth, like it really was the most shocking thing she'd ever heard. "How did you get something that rare?"

I smiled, thinking about it. "My dad collects old stuff like that. He gave it to me when I moved out."

"Whoa, that's super cool!" She leaned toward me, green eyes bright. "Do you think I could meet him, sometime?"

I was a little surprised at that, but after a moment I nodded. Why not? They were both naturally nice people, and Sawada would be happy to see I was making friends anyway. "Sure. He'd get a kick out of that, I think."

"Seriously?" she asked excitedly.

"Oh, yeah. He loves showing his stuff off."

"Then we definitely have to do it sometime, definitely-" She suddenly cut herself off, eyes widening. "But I'm getting ahead of myself! You're probably wondering how the heck I just showed up on your door step when you've never even told me where you live. I hope I didn't freak you out."

Ah. She was right, wasn't she? "I, uh...to be honest, I didn't even give it any thought. I've been so damn bored, I was just happy someone knocked."

"Great! That's actually why I'm here. Mr. Walker came by the office earlier, and he said you were probably tired of having nothing to do-or well, he said it a little differently, like 'that Kings-darn girl'd probably rather watch paint dry on a viddisc of moss growin' than sit 'round another second,' you know how he is-"

"Oh, I know."

"-so he said to come see you, if I wanted to and there wasn't too much work. And I did and there wasn't, so: Ta-da!" She spread her arms wide, as if demonstrating that she was, indeed, here.

I couldn't help looking at the floor, and embarrassed but real smile on my face. "That's...that's really nice of you, both of you. Thanks, Dezi."

"Hmph!" She stood up, hands on hips. "No need to thank me, Sharkie. I'm not here as a favor, I'm here because we're friends. And I should be the one thanking you, anyway. Now, then." She pointed right at me. "What do you want to today?"

I almost shrunk back into the corner a little. Dezhda was very motivated, and my mind was blank. "Um, not sure. Did you have anything in mind?"

"I did, actually. I thought we could get lunch-"

"But it's not even eleven-"

"-after doing some shopping," she finished triumphantly.

I wasn't sure I liked where this was going. "Shopping for what?" I asked warily.

A huge grin lit her face, her eyes flashing. "Clothes!"

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Oh, no. No, no, no. I don't need clothes, I have plenty of-"

"Oh, but Mr. Walker told me, Sharkie"-she jabbed her finger at me again-"that you've been working hard, and you're, in his words, 'going through more clothes than an incontinent well-digger.' Is that true?"

I grimaced, hemming and hawing. I guess a bunch of my stuff had been bloodstained or shot through or irradiated or cut up beyond repair. "Well, I don't know if it's that bad..."

"And while coveralls do have a sort of practical chic, what are you going to do for formal occasions, at a nice dinner or an important meeting or something?"

"Why would I ever-"

"Don't underestimate, me, Sharkie," she said, looking at me earnestly over her glasses. "I can tell Mr. Walker is a pretty big wheel. You never know what he might drag you along to. So we need to get you some nice clothes!" She crossed her arms and grinned proudly at me, as if daring me to contradict.

I sighed. I guess that was QED. Maybe I'd get lucky and we wouldn't find anything in my size. "Alright, alright. We can shop for clothes. But I'm picking the restaurant."

She hadn't stopped grinning. "I find these terms agreeable. Let's go!"

"You don't have to be so excited," I muttered. "Just let me change first." I was wearing a ratty tank top and baggy athletic shorts-not good for carrying all my 'not getting fucked up' gear.

"Oh, right. Of course." She stood there smiling at me for a few seconds.

"Are you going to stay and watch?" I ventured.

"Oh!" Her hands went straight to her mouth. "No! No, I'm not, sorry sorry sorr-" The door clanged shut behind her.

I shook my head for real this time and changed, putting on another pair of black jeans, a plain work shirt, and a green milsurp jacket. I buckled on the coilgun's holster as well as my knife and a couple lights, then went out the door.

When I turned around after locking up I caught Dezhda staring at my hip. I looked down and saw the grip of the coilgun had hooked my jacket and was sitting out in the open. I quickly fixed it. "Shit. If you want I can leave it-"

"No, no!" she jumped in, waving her hands. "I was just surprised yours is so big-" We locked eyes for a moment before she blushed furiously and I cracked up.

"Come on, you know that's not what I meant!" she protested, but she smiled while she said it.

"Okay, but wait," I said when I got myself under control. "When you said 'yours,' did you mean-"

"Yep!" She turned and lifted the side of her blouse. Riding inside her waistband was a small, striker-fired automatic in a plastic holster. "I hope I never have to use it, but it's like Danny D-Block says-"

"Stay strapped or get clapped!" we finished together. "Wait, you saw D's Dozen too?" I asked. It had been a kids' cartoon on one of the pirate TV bands, made locally rather than in some Admin propaganda creche. The animation was shit but the content much more relevant to life around here than the official dreck.

"Are you kidding?" she replied as we started down the catwalk stairs. "I watched it whenever it came on. My favorite was the one where Danny and Hua helped that beggar, and later it turned out he was a rich menschenjaeger and he gave them plenty of money! Though..." She paused, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. "...if I remember right he just brought a bunch of trouble, and the lesson was that they shouldn't have helped him at all. Kind of mean, now that I think about it."

"I like the one with the Sugar Bears versus the Green Cats. But I think the moral of that one was supposed to be 'don't join gangs,' so maybe I didn't like it too awful much." My eyes widened a bit. "Damn, I'm starting to talk like Walker!"

Dezi laughed and looked over at me as we reached the gate. "It's like he's contagious. The other day I said 'I reckon something-or-other' to Mrs. Sanverth and I think she almost laughed in my face."

"He's definitely something." I buzzed us through the gate, then turned to her under the nearest lightpole. "So where are we headed?"

"Ooh! Alright. I thought we'd go to this store I like. KM's. They've got new clothes, used clothes, tons of them. And they can modify, you know, let out hems and stuff too." She looked up at me, a little nervous. "I thought it was best to go somewhere with a lot of inventory, since, you know, your sizes aren't the most, um, typical."

"I know I'm big, Dezi. You don't have to be so worried about it. Thanks for putting in the thought, actually." She returned my smile. "So where's this place at?"

"Just on the edge between Central and Fifth Ward. It's pretty much a straight shot from here, and the light's good the whole way. So let's go!" She set off with a determined stride, so fast that even I had to push a little to keep up. That was fine. I'd been healing very well between Doc Laggard's fancy materials and whatever arcane processes I'd been built with. A little exertion would do me good.

I knew just about where Dezi was taking us. My crate was in Central Ward (technically Third, but no one local called it that), on the eastern edge near Second. We'd cross Central going southwest to get to the border with Fifth. It was indeed a nice walk, not going anywhere too sketchy.

Dezhda and I made small talk as we headed down the sidewalk, sometimes making way for slag-wranglers back from the foundries or harried middle management types in sweat-stained button-downs. This neighborhood was mostly reclaimed demo land, so the buildings we passed were dark blue construction plastic or precast concrete rather than crumbly brick or rotting cement. Even the shanties were pretty nice, mostly stacked out of hescos filled with concrete gravel or mine tailings. Snatches of calypso and bossa vieja teased our ears, drifting out of open windows or small cafes.

Man, was I glad to be outside again. I guess I could have gone for a walk whenever I wanted, but for some reason it had taken Dezhda to get me motivated. I glanced down at her beside me. She was pretty tall for a woman, I realized. Five ten or thereabouts. Fourteen inches down on me, but still taller than Walker, which was an amusing thought.

"Mm?" She noticed me looking and perked up.

"Oh! Uh, I was just gonna say it's a nice day for this. The breeze is nice."

"Yeah, that's why I like spring! It's warm, but not all humid and sweaty." She smiled to herself, looking back forward. "Rhoann says I cheer up as soon as the weather starts to change."

"Rhoann's your boyfriend?" Interesting name. I liked it.

"Yep! He's really nice. Really cute, too." She leaned in conspiratorially. "And he's got a nice butt!"

"Damn, sounds like a catch." I meant it, and I mostly managed not to be jealous of them. I was not exactly conventionally attractive, and didn't have too much experience dating. When I was younger I'd resented people for this, but then I'd come to the realization that stewing in spite all the time was no fun. Other people enjoying themselves didn't hurt me at all; best to just be happy they were happy. "How long've you dated for?"

"Oh, I guess it's almost two years now-Whoa! Look at that Sharkie, look at that!"

She was pointing at a blood-red car that purred by in the opposite lane, preceded by the blinding-white beams of laser-diffusion headlights. Two doors, low roof, shaped like a postmodern sculpture of a cat poised to pounce. It exuded a palpable sense of restrained speed, the exhaust a low, sustained note that seemed ready burst into a wild concerto at any time. It was perhaps the most expensive single object I'd seen that didn't fly or have people living in it.

"Holy fucking shit, what is that doing slummin' it around here?" I breathed. "What is it, a Marquez?"

Dezi was stopped dead on the curb, staring at it like it was Martyred Queen Sia come back to life. "A Marquez SC48 Veloce Verita," she murmured, a beatific smile on her face. "Powered by four Thayer-Nolan four-hundred kilowatt motors and a Hitosaki ceramic turbine, and all of it run by aerospace-grade Vought motronics. Zero to one hundred in about a second if the ground effects are engaged. Do you know what that feels like, Sharkie?" Locking eyes with me, she grabbed my shoulders and shook a little. "Do you know how that feels?"

"No, no I don't!" I was a little worried.

"Ah, I don't either. But it must be amazing." She seemed to realize what she was doing and yanked her hands back, mortified.

"It's fine, Dezi." I said before she could start saying sorry. "I didn't know you were into cars."

"Oh, I'm super into cars!" She frowned a little as we resumed walking. "Well, as into them as you can be without owning one. Are you?"

"I mean, a bit." I shrugged. "They're cool devices, cool engineering. Same as a gun or an old clock. But I can't get too excited over them 'cause it's always in the back of my head that I'll never afford a nice one, you know?"

"I mean, I guess I understand that, but I just-mm!" She stepped around a hushed-out derelict lying prone on the pavement without stopping her spiel. "Something about them, I don't know what it is, but I just think they're so neat! When I was a kid, sometimes Uncle Dagmund would be taking care of me at his shop, and he'd always let me drive around in the yard. He'd stack up boxes on the seat so I could see and everything, and he'd sit shotgun and let me go as fast as I wanted unless I was going to crash."

My skepticism must have shown on my face. "I know that doesn't sound like him," she continued, kneading her hands, "but I promise he used to be a nicer man. Less angry all of the time." She looked down. "I can't help worrying about him, despite how he acts. I hope he's not too deep into it, what ever 'it' is."

I tentatively patted her shoulder. "Dag's a lotta things, Dezi, but he never came off as stupid. He's too cunning to let something dumb happen to him."

"M-maybe you're right. I hope you are. But what about you? What did you do with your dad when you were a kid?" She was looking at me in that honest, open way again. No deceit at all in her face. It almost weirded me out, but it was a good feeling.

"Well, he used to let me 'help' around the store. He'd sit me on his shoulders and have me put stuff on the high shelves." I shook my head, smiling at the memory. "But soon I got taller than him anyway, and the only time we tried trading places I moved around too fast and he smacked his head on a beam. He didn't want to try again after that."

Dezi laughed, a fine clear sound that made passerby turn and look. "I really can't wait to meet him, now! C'mon, tell me more!"

The rest of the walk passed a lot like that. I enjoyed the conversation, the breeze that smelled faintly of wet stone and plants, the slight burn in my muscles. All too soon we reached our destination.