We'd arrived in a relatively nice neighborhood, mostly residential, the lifelights bright blue-white and well-maintained. The apartment buildings were old, mostly brick, but seemed in better shape than most. Conplas acid shields overhung their tops like mushrooms. Long, flexible rain-guards hung from their edges like the tentacles of ancient jellyfish, threaded through with iridescent Dakessar and Kestite prayer flags by the locals. One side of the street held a courier office, with bicycles and motorcycles and lithe men and women with digitigrade bionics constantly darting in and out. A little colony of food carts had sprung up around it, eager cooks hawking stuffed flatbreads and stromboli to the hurried runners. The smells made me realize that I'd worked up a nice appetite myself, but I'd have to earn my meal first.

KM's was across from couriers, a long, low storefront on a building of blue conplas that took up two or three lots. There was a huge backlit sign stretching over the store window, hand-painted white on lavender. It read "Kwan, Moliere et Cie." A busker was camped out next to the door, a man seated on a folding chair who was missing both legs above the knee. He was playing a steel guitar on his lap, the kind with a pick for each finger. Its mournful keen echoed off the building, skirling up and down as it resonated across the street. The piece was complex, even discordant sometimes; not what you'd expect to hear from someone trying to appeal to the widest of change-tossing audiences. I could respect that, so I set a couple chits in his urn anyway. He nodded in thanks, but kept on playing.

Dezi did the same, then whispered to me, "They get someone different out here every day, playing music or doing a little show. I think it's an honor, around here."

"Cool way to get business," I whispered back. "Maybe we could stay out here and listen a little longer-"

"Come on, Sharkie! It's not that scary." She took my hand and pulled me inside with the fierce determination that I was quickly learning resided beneath her happy-go-lucky exterior.

Inside reminded me a lot of my dad's shop, actually, just with only clothes. The drop ceiling was low, its inletted lights dim. The floor was bare concrete or textured plastic or low-pile carpet seemingly at random, and the whole place smelled like laundry detergent and dust. I heard faint music, and realized there were speakers pumping in the sound of the guitar from outside. It seemed pleasant enough.

Dezi moved like a woman on a mission, pulling me over to a checkout counter like a tugboat does its barge. Seated behind the counter and writing in a ledger was a woman who looked to be in her fifties, with almond-shaped eyes and skin like rice paper. She wore an army-green jumpsuit, like a haute-couture take on mechanic's coveralls. Her hair was a deep red, pulled back into a severe bun behind her, and the nod she greeted us with matched that stern precision.

"Good to see you, Miss Kuznetsov," she said as if Dezi was her commanding officer. "How are you doing today?"

Dezi gave her a little wave in return. "I'm great, Mrs. Kwan, how about you? And please, just Dezhda is fine!"

Mrs. Kwan cracked a smile. "If you say so, Miss Kuznetsov." She turned to me with frank appraisal. "And this must be the friend you told me about."

Dezi bobbed her head and smiled at the both of us. She'd obviously planned this, and it was making me nervous. Nothing for it, though. I suppressed a sigh and offered my hand to Mrs. Kwan. "Sharkie. Nice to meet you."

She took it and shook with a seven-fingered hand. She was obviously unashamed of the mutation, maybe even daring me to react. Mutants freaked some people out, but I'd worked with plenty of them that were changed a lot more than just counting base-14. It didn't bother me any; excepting looks they were just people like anyone else you'd meet. Looking how I did, I honestly felt a bit of kinship.

Her hands were thin, the fingers long, obviously precision instruments. Her grip was still firm, though. "The pleasure is mine," she said when she realized I wasn't going to pull away. "Nemanaya Kwan. Call me Nem, please."

"If you say so, Mrs. Kwan." I couldn't resist.

She rolled her eyes in mock-exasperation. "Oh, not you too. 'Mrs.' Please. Makes me feel old. Anyway. I'll be honest with you: not much of what we have is likely to fit you, Sharkie-though I'm guessing you're used to that."

I nodded.

"However: 'Not much' of our inventory is probably still enough to surprise you. Eddy and I already got most of it together after Miss Kuznetsov came by yesterday. I'll have him meet you over by the changing rooms. Sounds good?"

"Y-yeah, sure-"

"Sounds awesome, Mrs. Kwan!" Dezi burst in, taking my hand again. "Thanks for all your help."

"Oh, anytime. Enjoy yourselves, kids." She gave me a sardonic little wave as Dezhda pulled me away, then got back to her book.

"How much did you plan this?" I hissed at her. "Feels like I walked into a trap."

"I just wanted us to have a good time, Sharkie," she said. "And you really shouldn't be so down on yourself! You're a good-looking girl and we'll definitely find something to suit you."

"If you say so," I mumbled.

She took us down the aisles, past shelves and stacks and racks of every type of clothing you could imagine: work clothes, formal wear, jackets, dresses, scarves, skirts, shoes, socks, ties, trousers, an impressively diverse lingerie section, and everything in between. There were a couple other customers in there; a petite woman with silver hair and chestnut skin looking through a rack of cocktail dresses, and a square-headed mutie gentleman slowly going down a row of ties. Otherwise it was quiet and we had the changing rooms to ourselves.

Or so I thought-for as soon as we got there the second door out of three opened. Out stepped a man in a tuxedo, complete with cummerbund and top hat. He had a slightly pudgy face, with bushy black eyebrows and skin the color of caramel. Below a perfectly-styled pencil mustache, his mouth formed a surprised 'O' when he saw us.

"Why hello, Miss Dezhda! Always lovely to see you here."

"Hi, Eddie!"

"And you, my dear, must be the Miss Sharkie we've heard so much about!" He removed his hat with a flourish and bowed deeper than I would have thought his frame would allow. "Before you stands the humble Edouard Moliere, co-proprietor of this fine establishment. Has everything been to your liking so far?"

"I mean, I've been in here about two minutes, but so far it's a yes," I answered cautiously. "Good to meet you."

"Charmed, I am simply charmed!" He took my proffered hand and shook vigorously. "I've left several things in the changing room for you to try. Now, I must go and assist my noble wife with inventory, but if you should need anything do not hesitate to find me. Au revoir, ladies!"

With that he marched off, his gait rolling but surprisingly fast. "Is he, um...Is that normal for him?" I asked Dezhda.

"I actually think he's tired today. He didn't even ask if you wanted a tour."

I just shook my head. "I bet you two get along pretty well."

She cocked her head. "How'd you know?"

"Just a hunch."

She looked at me kind of funny but moved on. "Oh, well alright. But come on! Let's see what they brought for you!"

I followed her into the changing room, where a bunch of clothes here hung up on pegs. Oh, I could already tell this was going to be weird. There were pants without enough pockets, frilly shirts that would get pulled into- fan belts if you ever wore them to work, bright-colored jackets that would make you stand out to muggers.

"I don't know about this, Dezi..."

"Oh, come on. How about these?" She held up a pair of white jeans that looked at least a size too small for me. "Like mine, see? They'd look good on you, too."

I glanced at her pants. "They look too tight. How do you even move in them?"

"That's the fun part, they're stretchy!" She demonstrated, pulling at the pocket with her thumb. Impressive. Why'd no one tell me about this stuff?

"I still don't know about the color. I look like enough of a ghost already."

"Fine, fine. Those can go in the 'maybe' pile. Now then, what else, do we-oooooh! Here we go! You have to try this on!" She held it up to me.

"What is-no. No way, Dezi" What she held up was made of nice fabric dyed a pretty royal blue. It was also a shoulder-strapped, knee-length dress.

"Please, Sharkie? For me? Pleeeeease? I promise it'll look better than you think." She gave me a pleading look, complete with big shiny kitty-cat eyes. I sighed. I wasn't gonna be able to say no to that.

"Fine. But I'm only trying it on. No way it's coming out of the store with me."

She clapped excitedly. "Yay! Wait-let me do something with your hair."

"I have to lose the ballcap? I like the ballcap." Reluctantly I pulled it off.

"Just for a few minutes, I promise." She came over and started gathering my hair back. "Why do you think they call it that? I mean, where's the ball?"

"It's round, I guess? I don't know." I looked up nervously as she banded my hair into a high ponytail.

"There you go. I'll get out of your way this time." She scooted out of the room, leaving me to contend with the consequences.

Maybe it was that my dad's fashion sense had leaned more towards wear resistance and ease of cleaning than style, or just a general awareness of my physique, but I'd never been one to dress feminine. Hadn't worn a dress once, in fact. My first impressions were not good. The fabric was soft, sure, but I felt like the skirt was all over the place and begging to get caught on stuff. It was too tight across the chest and shoulders, but weirdly breezy around the legs. It was time to look in the mirror and give Dezhda her show, I guess.

Dezi's face lit up as soon as I stepped out. "Oh, Sharkie, I love it!"

"At least one of us does."

"Oh, stop it. Just look at you!"

I did, looking into the big mirrors mounted on the wall. Yep, I looked like the punchline of a mean joke. Seven feet tall, broad-shouldered, bulky with muscle, pale as a dark zone fish, and with a face that some might've called hawkish-pointed chin, strong nose, altogether too sharp to be pretty. My hair was black, and even in Dezi's ponytail wouldn't fall nicely, shooting off in little strakes and spikes. I had rounder hips than a guy, but otherwise? Not much on display in the 'feminine charm' department either.

"Mmh..." was all I could muster.

Dezi was having a lot more fun that I was. "Do something cute! Do something cute!"

What did I have to lose at this point? Fuck it. I threw up a pair of peace signs and posed like Sura the Vampire Maid. "Ehehe~...Fuck! I look like a clown in this thing!"

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While I threw up my hands Dezi applauded. "It was good! Really!"

"As comedy, maybe. Kings..."

"I like it! Seriously!" But then she frowned thoughtfully. "I suppose I'm not the one wearing it, though. I'm sorry, Sharkie, I guess this was more for my benefit than yours."

"It's fine, Dezi. I didn't think I'd like a dress, but I guess you don't know for sure until you try. I'm not trying to ruin your fun or anything."

"We should both be having fun. Oh, how about this!" She stepped up to me, expression serious. "If you like, we can just leave now. But is there anything you'd like to try on first?"

I tapped my foot, thinking. She had made a good point earlier, about maybe having to go somewhere nice with Walker. And I couldn't help thinking of ancient gangster movies, of dangerous men in slick tailored suits eating at smoky tables, making veiled threats over their noodles.

"You think they have a suit that'll fit me?"

Her eyes lit up. "I didn't even think of that! Wait here, I'll find Eddie!" She shot off like a cat with the rips, leaving me to sit on an old folding chair. I had to remember to keep my legs together. This thing was a pain.

Soon Dezhda was back, carrying a garment bag over one shoulder. "Eddie found this sitting in the back. Brand new, but it was marked down a bunch 'cause it's an odd size-um, no offense. He said he could get you a really good deal, if you like it."

"He actually had something he thinks'll fit? I'm impressed."

"Oh, it's like I said. You wouldn't believe how much they have stored away here." She handed me the bag. "Now try it on. Um, if you want to, I mean."

"It's got to be better than this. Why not." I went back into the changing room and checked it out. Yeah, this was a lot better.

When I came back out, Dezi gasped, grinning wildly. "D'yavolchitsa! That's incredible! You look ready to go out stealing girlfriends. Or boyfriends, if they're confident enough."

I did indeed look devilish, I thought. The suit had black pants, black belt, black jacket, black shirt, and a narrow tie in deep burgundy (clip-on, luckily-I'd no fucking clue how to tie one). With my coloring, the black made me look vampiric-but in a good way, if there's such a thing. I looked slick, put together, like the kind of person that would intimidate me on the street-but out of sheer self-possession, not just looking dangerous. I fucking loved it.

I tugged the jacket down across my shoulders-it actually hung a little loose, like it was meant to conceal a gun- and grinned at the mirror. I'd long since been resigned to the fact that I looked weird, so until now dressing nice had seemed pointless. I'd just wear what was comfortable and what I liked, 'cause I wasn't gonna look good anyway. But now? I felt good. I looked good. Who'd have thought a couple bolts of cloth could make such a difference?

"You look hap-py..." Dezhda singsonged. "Do you like it? I bet you like it."

"It's freakin' amazing, Dezi. I think I look good. Do I look good?"

"Are you joking? You look great, Sharkie! I mean, I still liked the dress, but this is just like it was made for you! Does it fit alright?"

"The pants could be longer, and it's a little tight around the waist, but maybe it was made for a man originally. Otherwise it seems fine. Looks fine too!" Maybe it was stupid but I couldn't keep the grin off my face. "Shit, if Dag could see me now...uh, sorry, Dezhda."

She waved that off without comment. "Nemmy could definitely fix that for you. It probably won't even take that long." She smiled slyly. "Assuming you want to wear it out, of course."

"Um, if possible, yeah."

"Yes! This is just awesome, Sharkie." She suddenly clasped me in a hug, which-oh, Kings-felt nice in a couple of different ways. I awkwardly returned it, then stepped away gently as I could.

"I think I'm gonna be good with this, Dezi, unless you wanted to try anything."

"Not really. To be honest I mostly wanted to come here for you." She glanced down. "Sorry again for making you try things you didn't want to-"

I put up my hands. "I promise it's okay. And it worked out fine anyway! I hardly want to take this thing off to have it changed."

Dezi giggled. "Eddy thought you'd like it. Maybe you wouldn't believe it with how he acts, but he's actually really good at his job."

I shrugged. "He wasn't an asshole, which already puts him in a high bracket. I'm not too surprised."

"Dyedushka always says the better someone is at something, the less they need to brag about it."

"Hm. Never thought about it that way. Your grampa sounds smart."

She twirled a lock of her hair. "I mean, he is, in some ways, but to be honest he probably read that on the back of a cereal box or something. And he'd proudly admit it, too."

"Ha! Well, he's smart enough to pick the right cereal, then. Ready?"

She nodded and we headed back up front. On the way I snagged a couple sets of coveralls that were in a close enough size. If they kept getting torn up and irradiated I'd run out pretty quick.

When we got back to the counter, Nemanaya looked me up and down then nodded approvingly. "Eddy picked another winner, didn't he? That man's got a sixth sense, I swear."

"He might at that. I feel great."

You look great, too." She stepped around the counter and began a closer inspection, occasionally plucking at the cloth or running a measuring tape down the side of my leg. "I don't think I'll even need to take in the jacket, you fill it so well. I'm jealous."

I leaned back in surprise. "Really?"

"Of course." She gave me a weird look. "Who wouldn't want to be strong?"

"...Makes sense." I hadn't even thought of it that way.

"Far as I can tell, I need to let out the waist of the pants and let down the cuffs a bit. Good?"

"You're the expert. All good with me."

She nodded at this, confident but not arrogant. Maybe the difference was just actually being able to back it up? "Go ahead and change in my office, no point walking all the way back." She jerked a thumb at a door behind you. "Shouldn't take me too long to get you set up."

I did as she asked, getting my old clothes back on in a room with file cabinets and a pair of desks against one wall and tacking tables and sewing machines against the other. When I came back out and handed Nemanaya the suit, she immediately went the way I'd come, closing the door behind her.

"Thanks, Mrs. Kwan!" called Dezi as the door shut.

"She's all business, isn't she?" I asked her.

"Oh, yeah. Nemmy doesn't like wasting time. She's not really mean about it, though."

"What, she's not Mrs. Kwan anymore?"

She smiled. "Only to her face."

Dezi ended up picking an antique bracelet out of a display case while Nem worked, a simple steel chain with a chunk of lapis lazuli linking it. "What do you think?" She held it up for me.

"Sets off your eyes and it's not too gaudy. I'd wear it."

She nodded happily.

It was maybe half an hour before before Mrs. Kwan returned. "All done. Go ahead and put it on."

I didn't need to be told twice. Yeah, it still looked good, it was just more comfortable now.

Nem just nodded when I came out. "Yep. You look dangerous. Good."

"Thanks for hooking me up, Nem. And if you don't mind, thank Eddy for me too. I'm blown away."

She grinned at my use of her first name. "That's what we're here for. I'll let him know."

Dezi and I got all squared up with her. At first I was surprised how little I had to spend, but then I realized it wouldn't have been little at all on my old salary. Moving up in the world, I guess.

We left just in time to see the guitarist outside packing up. I was stunned to see him pull bionic legs out of a bag beneath his chair and snap them onto his stumps.

"Hey, what the hell?" I blurted out. Dezi's hands shot up to cover her mouth.

"What the hell yourself," he snapped. "How'd you think I got here, magic?"

"Well-I just-why take 'em off in the first place?"

"Tradition, I guess. You want your fuckin' money back or not?"

Well, I'd been rude first. "Shit. No. Sorry for being on your case, man. You play well."

He squinted suspiciously but seemed to accept it. "Thanks. Eddy Mol set you up fine in there, didn't he?"

"Yeah. Thanks yourself."

He got his stuff together and trundled off, prosthetic servos growling. Meanwhile Dezi was giving me a weird look, which I returned.

"What?"

"I don't know, I guess that just ended better than I thought it would."

"Told you I wasn't going to beat anyone up, didn't I?"

"You did." She smiled. "You did, didn't you?"

"Yeah, and I-" I was interrupted by my own stomach rumbling. "Whoa. You hungry at all, Dezi?"

She glanced across the street. "You know, those carts do smell good..."

"I was thinking maybe we get some food there then drop by my dad's, if you still wanted to meet him." It might have been stupid, but this new suit had me in a real good mood and I wanted to visit him.

Dezi lit up. "Of course I do! Let's go!"

We went over to the food carts, earning a few odd looks from the couriers. The cooks themselves were happy enough to take our money, though. Dezi got a flatbread stuffed with spicy vegetables and I picked up a massive stromboli whose 'meat' almost didn't taste like arpaste. Then we were off to Sawada's.

I was used to passerby staring at me, and today was the same. Was it just me, though, or did those glances bear a little more awe than apprehension today? Maybe even a little attraction, from that petite girl in the sweater, or that young guy in foundry gear? Probably I was seeing things, but rather than tear myself down I decided to enjoy the illusion.

"You're having fun, aren't you?" asked Dezi. "It really does suit you. Ha, suit."

I nodded, smiling. "Oh, yeah. I think a pair of specs would take it to the next level."

"Ooh, mirrorshades. Good idea. I already feel like some kind of Admin heiress with her bodyguard. N-not that I think you're my servant or anything."

"I was just thinking the same thing. Feels cool. Like Ayane and Sawyer in The Succession-you ever see that one?"

"Ummmm..." She rubbed her chin. "Oh, I think I did. There's that assassin with four arms?"

"Oh yeah, that's the one. You know I read those are her real augs? She can play two guitars at once, type four-digit words per minute, all kinds of stuff."

"Wow, really?"

Our conversation made the walk seem shorter than it was. We talked more about movies, and Dezhda told me a little more about her family-her parents, her grandfather, the sister she hadn't seen in person in months, the younger brother who built computers and with whom she played racing sims.

Our route to Sawada's was different, but mostly well-lit and safe. The exception was a spot where we had to cross a block or two through Valiant. The only other option was going way out of our way to take a bridge over the Canal de Guethon, and neither of us felt like doing that, especially me. I wasn't in much pain but I found myself tiring easily.

As before, it was a very unwelcoming hood. Buildings decrepit, lights dim, people moving fast with heads down and hoods up. I pawed surreptitiously at my jacket to make sure I'd be able to draw fast if I needed to, and the conversation mutually petered out as we went on alert.

Once we went by the mouth of an alley where a posse of kids were hanging out, throwing dice and smoking doped cigarettes. None could have been over twenty and all had a three-armed symbol-a triskele, I thought it was called-crudely inked on the face or neck. A wannabe gang, obviously, not important enough to get absorbed or clipped by one of the big three.

Dezi was just ahead of me, so they saw her first. One of the girls-a whip-thin thing with strontium-red hair and flechette-gun darts through her ears-stepped up very close, making Dezi back away with her hand hovering near her waist. "Hi-hi, pretty one. One bad shasha, you is-" The young romantic shut up and took a nervous step back when I hove into view. For a moment the only sound was dice clicking to a halt on the concrete, results ignored.

I didn't even need to say anything. I'd been a street kid, once, and knew they mostly operated on bluffs and bravado. So I just stood there, towering over Red by at least eighteen inches and smiling at her the whole time. A real, happy smile, like I was saying 'Please. Take a shot. Volunteer to become human origami. Nothing would please me more.'

Red knew what was going on just as much as I did and stepped back without a word. Such a smart young lady; maybe there was hope for her yet. On instinct I tipped her a wink. Then Dezi and I got moving, me grinning like an idiot and feeling like an absolute bastard.

"Holy crap, Sharkie!" Dezhda hissed at me once we were back in better-lit climes. "I thought you were going scare the dye right out of that girl's hair! I almost feel bad for her."

"She's young. Her ego'll recover in a day or two."

"'She's young?'" Dezi giggled. "You can't be more than twenty yourself!"

"Twenty-one!" I protested with a frown. "Definitely older than her."

"Ha! I'm twenty-three! Does that mean I get to give you advice?"

I shrugged and flashed a lopsided grin. "I mean, you can give all the advice you want. Doesn't mean I'll follow it."

"You'd really disregard my seniority just like that? So rude, Sharkie..."

It was only ten or so more minutes until we reached Sawada's concrete edifice. "Oh, this is your dad's store?" Dezi said. "We bought a water purifier here a few months ago."

"Yep. That kind of stuff is most of his business. C'mon in."