Paresthesia Pt. 05

"Usually, we shower together and fool around a bit more before going to bed. Maybe watch a movie or something. Although, it's super late and I'm super tired, and I'm kind of sure you have a shift tomorrow or a class or something. So, y'know, no hard feelings if you need to bail."

"I can call a cab or something," I say, "Or maybe one of Sunday's guys can give you a ride if they're around. I know your friend can give you a lift, but still, I imagine it can get tiring if you have to go across the river for this."

"I got nothing planned, honestly. Don't have a class until like 3."

"We have a good bed. Very large, very soft, very high thread count sheets."

"You live in a warehouse. How good can it be?"

"Sunday has good contacts. You get perks working with him. I bet there's a way he can figure out how to do some schoolwork for you. Just saying."

"Don't tempt me. Professor Sarver is a monster. But I would like to hear more about this bed and shower you got going on. That sounds nice."

It does sound nice, even saying it. It is even better once we are actually doing those things.

---

I'm in my half-kit today, hair down, mask up, and jacket not my favorite one. Still good. Still heavy leather dyed green hugging my body. It's nice. It's calming. It makes the smoke-filled room of Bloody Sunday's square conference table a bit more bearable. It makes the fact that we have an unsatisfactory report a bit more bearable. Not a lot, but still. It's something.

The man in question takes a deep pull from his cigar and lets the smoke from and spill with no direct action. More disappointment. More despair. More than the simple no that we all gave him at the start of this endeavor. We got his hopes up. We got the mind thinking. Riot's cigar still sits untapped. It is lit and smoldering in its little tray, but her lips remain unsullied.

"We could go out of town," he ponders, "There's Flow and Yggdrasil upstate. Might take a bit of pulling, but I got favors to call in."

"There might even be a chance that my credentials haven't been revoked," Riot says, "Beat, it took forever to get you out of the system. I think the IT guys are just lazy. It was around when the union contract was up, so there's a chance. They're doing it again right now. There's a chance, right?"

"I hate being the downer yere," I say, "But what do we do? Out of town still leaves us one short. And Flow's semiretired. I don't know if she would bite. Really only does like one job a year if that. I just don't think it would pan out."

"Yeah, I agree. I hate that you're the downer here. You shouldn't be that."

"Boss," says the congenial knock at the door, "You have Alizarin here to see you. Told her you were in a meeting."

He smiles. The old man smiles through smoke-stained teeth and I can't help but join in. Riot giggles at the shared secret and it's so delightfully naughty in all reality.

"Well send her in, send her in," he shouts back, "Ian, make sure she's welcome. Tall drink, a smoke, check her coat, whatever she needs."

Not a moment after the words are out of his mouth does the woman in question storm in with a fluttering cloak, burned and singed at the edges. A real big show of it too, striding with too much confidence before slamming herself down on a seat and putting her feet up. It's hard to tell through the smoke and the mask, but as her gaze drifts over the both of us, I am sure she is blushing.

"The Solarium," she says, "There's a chance we can scour the Solarium and get a way into the hall through there."

"Well now," Sunday says, "I like hearing that. I'm starting to think you're all in on this. Taking me for a ride. Dashing my hopes just to bring them back up again. So, I take it you're in for the Hall job."

She takes a deep breath before letting it out, embers sparking in the whisps of smoke.

"One condition."

She leans forward, making the moment unbearably dramatic. I stifle a yawn. I had a late-night last night.

"I get the squad car."