levan.harlow (Levan)at 23:38
I was at the hospital, she found me there!
She is alive!
levan.harlow (Levan)at 23:38
I first thought it was some trick, something December or Renelant somehow did!
You know, a robot, or a mind trick or something! But she is real!
levan.harlow (Levan)at 23:39
She was fishing something out of the trash bin, turned around and said hello!
levan.harlow (Levan)at 23:40
Then we fell down the stairs and I figured that a killer agent would not be that clumsy!
We then went to the Kay and now she is sleeping in my bed!
NothingMatters (Madeleine)at 23:42
Oh really. That's the first thing you do with her?
levan.harlow (Levan)at 23:45
No, I mean, she is sleeping there! She is still snoring like a chainsaw. I cannot sleep like that.
NothingMatters (Madeleine)at 23:45
Is she homeless?
NothingMatters (Madeleine)at 23:46
Why doesn't she sleep at her place?
NothingMatters (Madeleine)at 23:48
Levan, listen. I know this is overwhelming news, but stay careful.
NothingMatters (Madeleine)at 23:48
We literally heard her die.
levan.harlow (Levan)at 23:49
She also kicked me in the six with her knee while sleeping. And put her feet on my face. Stinky socks!!!
levan.harlow (Levan)at 23:49
I left the bed when she farted. I have no doubt this is the real Aspen.
levan.harlow (Levan)at 23:51
She somehow survived. Like, it was the Sentinels that got her, but she got rescued. And kidnapped.
And rescued. And then kidnapped again.
levan.harlow (Levan)at 23:53
If she was here to kill me, she would have done so already. And not with farts or stinky feet.
Or kicks.
NothingMatters (Madeleine)at 23:55
Just stay careful, okay?
levan.harlow (Levan)at 23:55
I am always careful!
levan.harlow (Levan)at 23:55
I should really get a gun or something, though.
Felt super cornered in the hospital!!
NothingMatters (Madeleine)at 23:58
I'd usually disagree, but considering your lifestyle, that might actually be a good idea.
levan.harlow (Levan)at 23:59
We will be heading back to Liberty, soon.
levan.harlow (Levan)at 00:00
I offered her the Dandelion, since it is technically her ship. And Monique certainly does not use it.
NothingMatters (Madeleine)at 00:05
Sounds good. I'd rather know her on her own ship than on the Kay.
levan.harlow (Levan)at 00:09
You really do not need to be jealous, Madeleine. Aspen has no interest in me.
Pretty sure she only cares for women.
NothingMatters (Madeleine)at 00:11
That has nothing to do with jealousy, love. You have no idea what happened to her.
She could have gotten manipulated or something. Maybe an alien jumps out of her chest soon.
levan.harlow (Levan)at 00:12
That is not how it works.
levan.harlow (Levan)at 00:19
... right?
NothingMatters (Madeleine)at 00:20
I don't know? You're the one who hangs out with aliens and gods.
levan.harlow (Levan)at 00:23
I seriously try not to!
NothingMatters (Madeleine)at 00:24
I shouldn't make jokes about that. This was a joke, Mr. LSF surveillance operative!
levan.harlow (Levan)at 00:26
Do you really think they read our chat?
NothingMatters (Madeleine)at 00:28
I don't believe in conspiracies, but you surely attract a lot of attention. So, you tell me.
NothingMatters (Madeleine)at 00:31
Think about it the next time you send pics of your cock to Kris.
levan.harlow (Levan)at 00:32
UHM!
levan.harlow (Levan)at 00:33
I only ever sent one to Monique, and only because she wanted it!!
The chain of events could not be more wild. First Aspen turns out to be alive and finds me on that Zoner planet. Then I meet Lea again, do some escort contracts, meet some new people. Kristoff breaks my heart, then regrets it. Now he is here again, with me. In my bed. For the first time in a long while, I feel that connection with him again.
Ontario has turned into a war zone, and Damian and his spook friends have turned from hope to disappointment. For as long as I can think, I idolized the Xenos. The only people who care for the people on Pittsburgh. I always looked up to them. Violent, yes, but for a good cause. Unlikely heroes. Finding myself in a position where I, just by chance, run into the leader of the Xeno Alliance? That was one of the greatest things I could have ever imagined.
But that image has been shattered.
I look at this idiot next to me. He sleeps soundly. I had to confront him about the upcoming events. That we need to find a solution, immediately. I had to pin him down, literally, to make him listen and understand the situation. And I had to remind him that life is worth living, and that sometimes we have to make sacrifices. There is only one solution to this situation right now. And I put this into his hands now.
Madeleine and Monique are to my other side. What a blessing to have both of them, really. I turn around to face Madeleine, who turns out to not be sleeping. Our eyes meet. I let my fingers brush over her soft cheek. Cup it. Let my thumb rest on her cheek bone.
One of her legs moves between mine and just stays there. She scoots closer, leaning in for a fleeting kiss. Then another. Then another. It goes on like this for a few minutes. Mute and gentle proximity. Then she whispers into my ear.
Getdressed,love.
No hesitation. No questioning. We carefully get out of the bed, trying out best to not wake up Monique and Kristoff. We move to the cabinet and get our clothes. Middle of the night, fresh breeze outside. Of course I put on leather pants, a T-shirt and a leather jacket, and my beanie. Madeleine, on the other hand, merely grabs a long shirt and a skirt. Not even socks.
We move downstairs. One of the few moments where nothing is happening, here at the Den. A couple is on the couch, watching some movie. Another guy had fallen asleep in a seat. Three others are talking in the kitchen. Two girls cuddling in a corner on the seat pillows. Madeleine walks over to the glass table and pilfers a slice of the pizza, then joins me as we slip into our shoes.
The street lights emit cones of bright orange. Barely any traffic. David's Hollow can be like that. Going out at night like that is quite something. Madeleine and I do that quite often. Sometimes Monique, too. The night sky is covered in clouds. Many moving lights. Hovers, shuttles, freighters, the occasional Bison, the occasional Defiant. Officer Roscoe is somewhere up there, eating donuts. Kristoff's brother Charles might also be on One Police Plaza.
We walk. Madeleine holds my hand.
What'stheplannow?
Same as before. I finally convinced him.
Now he just needs to reach out, and beg.
Mightbetoolateforthat.
Likely. But I see no other option. It is worth giving it a shot.
We stop at the cigarette vendomat. Without any hesitation, she lets her fingers slide into the rather tight pocket of my pants and produces my credit card out of it. Something I have come used to. In her routine way, she holds the card in front of the scanner, then selects the pack she wants.
The thin woman with the orange dyed hair kneels down to fish the smokes out of the dispenser. She then gets up again, walks over to me and lets the credit card slip back into my pocket. Eager to get a cigarette for her craving, she unwraps the pack and opens it, retrieving one of the mint flavor max filter smokes. As usual, she opens one of the pockets of my jacket and stuffs the pack in there. Her hand then eagerly seeks for the lighter in the inner pocket of the jacket, only to realize there is none.
...fuck,Ileftitonthebalcony. Aw.
We can go to the diner, they probably have a light.
We enter the diner. Not many people around, yet enough to not feel empty. Madeleine and I find ourselves a quiet corner booth. Textile cushions, red wood furniture, plastic table surface. Cozy, with just enough of a reminder that this is not a restaurant but a diner. Madeleine sits down right next to me, leaning against my side. I put my arm around her.
Whatmakesyousosureaboutthat?
He does not strike me as such. When he offered this solution, he did not mention any price. He just wanted to do it. To help us.
Madeleine, you heard him talk yourself. There was this... benevolence in his voice.
He cares for people. That is what Xenos do. They care for the people from Pittsburgh, and the lower class of Liberty. The small man.
The waitress comes over, a pad in her hand, ready to take our order.
A cup of coffee, a glass of water and a slice of cheese cake, please.
Oh,gotalight?
The middle aged waitress produces a lighter from her vest pocket. Madeleine takes her cigarette and leans forward as the waitress lights the cigarette for her.
Thanks,yousavedme.
With our order noted down on her pad, the lady walks off. Madeleine enjoys her cigarette, shooting rings of smoke out of her mouth. After a few of them, she leans back again, huddling up against me.
In any other situation, my blood would be boiling. Just like when Senator and Damian mocked me. Humiliated me. Treated me like a naive child. I would get angry, slowly get my hands on the turret controls, target the enemy and be ready to fire at any moment. And then my conscience would get the better of me and calm me down right in time. Just like when Rebecca gave me a chance to kill her. Or when I wondered whether killing Relenant and Kristoff would be better for Sirius. Or when I looked at this Order agent who kept repeating that they would kill Kristoff.
I would simmer down. I would not escalate it.
Here, it is different. I am calm. No anger. Just disappointment. Flatlining hope. Madeleine is way too sharp for this realm. I do not know anyone who sees through any mask as quick as she does. Her intellect is both intimidating and inspiring. Compared to her, I really am, without a doubt, a naive child. Compared to her, most people are. Laying low. That is her lifestyle. She is rich, but does not touch her money. She hates it when I go to space.
What she says makes sense. I just wish it is different. My whole life I saw the Xenos as the good guys. Damian? Someone who cares for the small man. A man who gets stuff done. He does not hide behind a table. He sits in a fighter, and kills. He is a killer. A terrorist. The leader of his alliance. He has no reason to care for someone like me, or to show sympathy for Kristoff. Like Relevant, he sees soldiers. Pawns to push around. Kristoff is just an opportunity. If he can help Kristoff, that is good for publicity. If he cannot help him, his death will please the Order. Considering he seems to hang out with them frequently, their opinion and favor is probably important to him.
Ashes are dropping into the ash tray as Madeleine taps her index finger on the cigarette. Her fragrance is a mix of her deodorant, the slice of pizza she had devoured a few minutes ago and the cigarette's weird flavor. I must admit, while smoking does not seem appealing to me at all, I do enjoy the scent of it when she does it. Of course her brand is not actually containing nicotine. She does it for the habit and the taste of it. At least now.
We stay like this for a while, until the waitress returns with our drinks. Water for me, a coffee for Madeleine, and the cake for me - until the waitress disappears and Madeleine takes the plate. Four years since I left Pittsburgh, and I still find no pleasure in eating anything other than Synth. Madeleine explained the synthivore syndrome to me, using all these fancy words from biology and science. My body stopped producing enzymes to process anything other Synth Paste and Gel. The only way to change that would be to eat other foods in small amounts, get stomach aches and motivate my body to produce the enzymes again. I am not sure if I actually want that. Thus, that very pretty looking slice of cheesecake is all hers.
Madeleine uses the small fork and cuts a clean chunk of cheesecake off the slice. The fork pierces it and leads it to her lips. It slowly vanishes in her mouth.
And yet you are still with me. I guess you still have hopes for everything to end well?
Maybe.MaybeIamgonewhenyouwakeupagain.
She takes the next bite. The cigarette is still leaving a trail of smoke. The coffee is hot and adds another source of steam in front of us. My glass of water is bubbling, keeping the two deforming ice cubes at the surface in motion.
... I am not sure whether to feel flattered or not.
Youbetter.
The cigarette slowly dies down as Madeleine drops it in the ash tray, now paying full attention to the cheesecake, carefully using the fork to separate another fine chunk. The powdery frosting barely takes any damage thanks to her precision.
Every now and then, she ends up saying something like this. Something that catches me completely off guard. My cheeks get warm, my stomach drops. I feel her lips on my cheek. Including something that feels like a crumb of the cake. I do not mind it. I turn my head towards her and return the kiss. Maybe this would be enough to make my body learn to produce enzymes again? I doubt it. It was not the point of it, anyway.
We walk home. Slowly. The wind is quite chilling, and I can tell Madeleine is feeling cold. I take off my jacket and hand it to her. She gladly accepts. We continue to return home, hand in hand. We go upstairs, and we lay down again, dressed as we are. She falls asleep in my arms, and I lose my consciousness, too.
Two months have passed. No sign of life from Kristoff. It took two months for me to recover to some level. The thing about space is, once you got out there, you want to see more of it. So, I did that. Took the Kay and went up into the sky. That was yesterday. Went for Tau-29 to my old stargazing spot. Lea found me there and we talked.
We flew around for a bit. I showed her the rocks in Tau-23, the ones that Aspen showed me. She made her intentions clear, and I tried to talk her out of it. But she insisted. I told her we would meet the next day on Barrier Gate, so she could think it over during the night. I went home. Monique and Madeleine were already asleep, so I simply lay down between them and closed my eyes.
Monique woke me up the next morning, asking me about my first space adventure after a long time. I think I did a good job avoiding to talk about Lea, as every time I mention her name, both of them perk up and try to make a thing of it, just to tease me. Told them I would go for another space flight. We had breakfast, relaxed a bit on the balcony, and then I got ready for the ... meeting. Accidentally spilled half of the perfume bottle all over me, then tried to wash it off. I can still smell it all.
As I got ready, Madeleine watched me. As if she had a sixth sense, she asked what my plan was. Whether it involved Yoshiko or Lea or someone else. I simply replied that I will know once I am up there. She moved up to my side and hugged me, taking in the perfume as she burrowed her face into my neck. And then she suggested that, if there is nothing planned, she and Monique could come with me. Without hesitation I said "Yes, of course!".
And for the entire duration of the transit from Liberty to Barrier Gate, Monique and Madeleine were with me in the cockpit of the Kay, commenting on everything, mocking and teasing me occasionally. Especially Monique, who seems to enjoy to distract me when I am trying very hard to focus on flying.
Very hard.
We arrived at Barrier Gate. Caliban, of course. And another person, a woman called Tracey. Just in that moment they talked about Kristoff. And that way I found out: Kristoff is alive. The Order never got him, and no bounty hunter got him. And he stopped hiding himself. Instead, he appears to live at Barrier Gate now.
Just like that.
And all this time he did not bother to contact me in any way. To tell me he is doing well. To tell me he misses me. To tell me anything.
Short time later, Kristoff arrived, along with the whole gang of undesirables from Inverness. Lea also undocked and seemed to notice something was going on. I told her I needed some time, so she waited. Kristoff and I talked... a tiny bit. Probably less than ten sentences. He barely paid any attention to me. And then I realized he had a woman with him, in his tiny fighter, right behind him, this entire time. No wonder he never contacted me. Or paid attention to me. He already got over me.
I asked Lea whether she wanted to go have dinner with me, and we docked at Barrier Gate. I asked Monique and Madeleine to stay on the Kay. I think they both left to explore the station, anyway. Lea and I went straight for her room, to... talk. Among other things.
I am next to her right now. She is sleeping. I think she really enjoyed it.
The room reeks of what we did, even with my perfume mixing in. I carefully try to slip away under her, as her head rests on my chest. Trying to find my PDA in the jacket on the floor. Still no message from Kristoff. Only a bunch of messages from Monique, asking whether we are at it. I put the PDA away and walk over to the bathroom. Time to get clean again.
Maybe going back to space was a mistake. I had made my peace with the thought of Kristoff being gone, or at least staying hidden. But now he is out there, doing this and that, openly. And everyone seems to know, except for me. I wonder whether Aspen knew all along, too.
The water is rationed. I forgot they do that on stations.
I know Lea would want me to stay, but I think it is better if I return to the Kay. Just to make sure Madeleine and Monique are not setting it on fire, or get themselves into trouble on station.
It is weird. Things seem to change, and not. Of the three of us, I am usually the one getting mocked for feeling cold despite everyone else sweating. One more reason for me to wear thick clothes. They keep me warm. I wear them where other people undress. Madeleine and Monique know there are other reasons for it, too. A habit. The old Levan could never allow himself to show bare skin, be unprepared to jump up and run away. Being undressed, exposed, is a luxury, a privilege of the civilized. Even if it may just be clothes, it is a layer of protection. Armor. Old Levan would not have allowed himself to expose himself to any weakness. The young boy knew the consequences.
The new Levan got eased into lowering his defenses. A new planet, a new standard of security. A new standard of privacy. Protection all around him. Monique and Madeleine protect the new Levan. Durga protects the new Levan. And to a degree, the people of the Den protect the new Levan. In a way, the new Levan is a reborn Levan. A new life. Misery replaced by luxury. Tragedy replaced by fortune. Despair replaced by luck. Things have truly changed, I think.
The summer nights on Denver are hot. The wind brings a wave of refreshment. I lay on the bed, only wearing underwear. Monique is next to me, sleeping, sweating. The blankets are all piled up to our feet. The glass door to the balcony is wide open. Occasionally, I can hear the sound of a hovercar rushing by down the street, some insects chirping in the distance, gusts of wind hitting the dense trees decorating the boulevard.
Boulevard. One of the countless words Madeleine taught me. An infinitely patient woman. Weirdly fitting that we found to each other, and the way we did. She is a weird one, too. She stares at people, recklessly. Her gaze is piercing, and at first, bewildering when exposed to it. I have grown used to it. I asked her why she does it. Her response was as simple.
HowelseamIsupposedtoseeyou?
She is on the couch, her body covered in an oversized T-shirt. One hand lifted it at the bottom, pulling it up and down, forcing the air to circulate between the loose textile and her skin. I walk over to her and sit down on the carpet, leaning against the couch, my head close to hers on her neck pillow.
What are you reading?
TheKinginYellow.
What is it about?
Insanity.
Of course!
I exhaled, leaving her to her book. Just like her eyes are otherwise relentlessly glued to me when we talk, this time they were glued to the book. The lamp on the table emitted just enough light to make reading in the night possible, yet questionable as to how good it is for her eyes. And then it is questionable as to why to read a book about insanity at night. But then again, this was Madeleine. Her choice of books. I look at the other books on the table. House of Leaves. Fame. Some book from Kusari. Thus spoke Za-ra-thus-tra. Something from Rheinland called Geft-alt-zer-fall. Ever since our misadventure in Kepler, Madeleine spent more time reading her books than on anything else.
Looking forward to Curacao?
Mhm.
Yeah. Me, too. I think.
...
...
...
What do you think?
...
...
She closes the book and places it somewhat carefully on the table without sitting up.
Well, whatever similarities and differences are between us and Gallia, we certainly did not bombard a planet with billions of people into a radioactive wasteland.
Madeleine slowly turns her head in my direction, blinking at me with her unfazed face.
Coming home from a ride always feels strange. Completely different settings. One moment I am all by myself on my ship, with barely any space to do anything other than the basics, all by myself. The next moment I walk through the streets of David's Hollow, from the spaceport to the Den. Home, I guess. Weird disconnect, as I have grown used to calling it Den, instead of home. That entire apartment building is mine, and I have been living there for how long now? More than five years? Seven years? I really aged. Luckily, my body does not show it yet. The other day I was asked for my ID as they did not want to sell alcohol to minors. Flattering, really.
It is still snowing. The streets at night feel different when they have this layer of reflective white snow covering them. Snow, slush, mud, dirt. The cold season looks nice when the snow is falling, and disgusting just a few days later. Cold and wet and ugly.
My spacer outfit keeps me warm, although I can feel the freezing winds on my face. My cheeks are probably rosy, and I am in that awkward spot where I am not entirely sure whether my nose is runny or just cold. I just know that I will take a steaming hot bath when I get home. If... I get the chance to do that, that is.
To think Lea grew up on a planet that has this kind of weather all day. These Rheinlanders are something else. Stone cold people. I just wanted to go home, and they deny me entry because of a cloaking device. Really, that is the thing that bothers them? Bombers can enter their turf without permits, but a ship using a cloaking device? Better make a bunch of laws for that. I guess I will have to request a permit at some point. I guess that is why Liberty will always be the best house, even with the many flaws we have here.
Have to be careful with the stairs. Madeleine somehow manages to slip here every time. Hope she is already sleeping. Should be early enough. Really wondering whether she finds her life fulfilling. She doubled that million credits by investing in DSE stocks before that new station went online.
I open the door to the Den. Just your average randoms here. Always a new face, always some faces I should be way more familiar with than I am. Less messy than usual. Volume on night mode, so sleeping was actually possible. Three girls talking in the kitchen, beer cans on the counter, one in a hand. Durga nods at me, as usual. No warm welcome from her, as usual. Two guys playing some fighting game in the living room. Button mashing versus actual skill.
I walk upstairs, enter the bedroom. Dark, so I am quiet. Monique is sleeping. I sit down at the edge of the bed, trying to be as silent as possible as I take off my boots. Something I should have done downstairs already. It is a heated floor, so it is less about the sludgy cold still sticking to the boots and more about the stains that sludge will leave upon drying. The girls tend to get a little annoying when I cause a little dirt, while Monique frequently spills beer, and Madeleine... gives reason to change the bed sheets more often than usually needed. Both of them often forget that this is my house. My property.
I place the boots next to the glass door to the balcony. Then I head over to the bed, just dropping onto it. Not even taking my jacket off. Some more cold moisture to get mad about. Who cares. Not planning on taking off any clothes anyway. Warmer that way. I pull my blanket over me, over my face. Just a few seconds of sticky air, but warm air. Just warming up my face. Even with all the workouts, I just do not get past that threshold towards underweight. It used to be a lot worse. With a body that is just muscles and bones and barely any fat, getting exposed to the cold is so much more punishing.
I close my eyes. I guess I am a bit more tired than I thought. Maybe it is because it is nighttime. Maybe it is because of the gravity difference between the average one point zero for space ships, and Denver's very slightly different level of gravity. Maybe it is the difference in temperature. The texture of the air. Maybe it is the-
Something is moving. I feel more weight, more warmth. Opening my eyes, pulling the blanket off my face. Monique. She scoots between my blanket and my body in clumsy movements, whispered tired moans. Her warm face against mine. Not a word spoken for a while, just her body on mine. A few tight squeezes from her until I place my hands on her back, until my arms coil around her chest like two bony lizards. No complaints about me being fully clothed. At least this time. Just proximity. Two tired humans.
My breathing grows more audible from the additional weight on my chest. My lips are dry from the cold outside. Hers are not dry at all, as she proves without a warning.
≫Monique≪
Did you save the world?
≫Levan≪
Yeah.
≫Monique≪
Tha's goodoknow... Anything happen?
≫Levan≪
Not really. Met a racer in Pennsylvania. A flight teacher, Interspace. Was nice at first, but the conversation got more depressing over time. Got briefly interrogated by an LSF guy. Not the brightest tool in the shed.
≫Monique≪
Sharpest.
≫Levan≪
Whatever. Did not see anyone familiar. Got into a fight with a Lane Hacker near Erie, but they escaped. Bretonia forced me to join a fleet fight with Rheinland against the Hessians and Coalition. Escaped, though. Obviously.
≫Monique≪
... I'm too tired to yell at you.
≫Levan≪
I would not tell you if otherwise.
Her grip on me tightens. It is true, though. Both she and Madeleine get extremely upset whenever I get into fights. Rightfully so, as none of them made any sense. The Lane Hacker really just wanted a fight, gunboat on gunboat. Quickly realized I was better. Then ran off, squeaking on the comms like a broken accordion in anger.
What really bothered me was what happened in Omega-3. That Armed Forces captain made false claims, forcing me to join that fleet fight, saying my cloaking device was illegal in Bretonia. Right in front of police pilots who corrected him on the spot. Being surrounded by both Rheinland and Bretonia law enforcers, I simply agreed, just to avoid trouble.
What does one do in a situation like that? File a complaint with the Bretonian Government about corruption among their captains? Would probably just get dismissed, and next time I move through Bretonia I get pulled aside by the same asshole, fined if not worse. Such things really do not happen in Liberty.
I guess just another reason to avoid Bretonia. And Rheinland. Not like I am going to find friends there, anyway.
Monique places her lips on mine once more, just an idle kiss. She scoots down a little, her head sideways, nuzzling my neck.
≫Monique≪
One day, you won't come home. Just because you keep going up there, flying around, attracting problems. One day, you will get shot down and die. And I'm here, waiting day and night. How does that make sense?
≫Levan≪
Makes no sense at all. Madeleine and you are here. Kimberly is here. My friends are here. Everyone who cares for me is here. There is nobody out there who cares for me. Not Kristoff, not Aspen, nobody. Makes no sense at all. They are all fighting their idiotic battles, and every time I leave the planet, I get dragged into them, too.
≫Monique≪
Just sell the damn ship. Saves maintenance, parking, fuel... everything. You don't risk your life anymore over... nothing. Let others do the fighting. Let them die over nothing. Fuck them. Just fuck them all.
≫Levan≪
Uhm, I thought you are too tired for arguing?
≫Monique≪
I'm not arguing, I'm telling you what to do. I'm telling you the same thing Madeleine tells you to do, and you don't. So here we are, Levan, the probably most intelligent girl you'll ever meet and me, a stupid, angry drug-addict party girl telling you both to do the same thing. You get the full spectrum of intelligence here. Two digits and three digits. Everyone tells you to be happy with what you have. Instead, you keep going to space, and risk your life over and over again. for nothing. Just stay here and be happy with us. Fuck all day and night, never need to work, eat and drink all you want.
≫Levan≪
That would make sense, yeah.
Even more exhausted than before, she moves a hand to my head, cupping my cheek.
≫Monique≪
What can I do to make you stay?
I remain silent. She is right, without a doubt. I have everything a man could want. More money than I could ever spend. Women. Friends. Security. Good standing with LPI, too. My life is the complete opposite of what it used to be on Pittsburgh. I have freedom. I can do whatever I want, whenever I want. Having Madeleine and Monique yell at me for wearing clothes in bed is a luxury. Having an clumsy idiot downstairs break a glass table, that is a luxury. This is all luxury.
Do I... not deserve that? Should I not be happy about all of this wealth? This abundance? My every need is met. More than a decent lifestyle. Why am I drawn to space like a mammoth to a lamp?
Monique's blue hair tickles the skin of my face. Her hug constricts my movement like chains. I can barely move. I can barely breathe. Sometimes I feel like her affection for me is not just for the sex and the money. Sometimes she says just the right things. Sometimes, her pupils look like hearts when she looks at me. I really am blessed in so many ways. Madeleine calls it karma, for all the suffering on Pittsburgh. Then she corrects herself, making sure I understand she does not believe in karma. Thousands of coincidences and choices led from poverty and starvation to wealth and abundance. No luck, no fate, no balance.
It hurts to breathe like this. Feeling a little light-headed. I roll her off my body, to the side. She squeaks in surprise, muffled through a kiss I bring upon her. I am in control. I can have anything I want, any time. No suffocation, no arguments. My house, my bed, my clothes. No chains, absolute freedom. Maybe that is it? Freedom? Is that why I feel like I need to have this ship?
Almost as if challenged, Monique tries to gain control again, wrapping her arms and legs around my body as her tongue invades my mouth. It develops into a... somewhat of a fight for dominance. Am I weighed down by everything I have on Denver? Girlfriends, the Den? Is that it? Is that why I go to space?
Her arguments got more and more compelling, always nearing complete dominance. A few nasty techniques, mostly with that kisser. I grit my teeth. Dumbfounded joy, but somehow muffled. Is this just... fake joy? Fake bliss? My mind fogs up, my confusion seemingly unending. Who, of any person with a sane mind, would abandon all of this, for some freedom? For some solitude? For the constant threat of dying to thousands of hazards, hundreds of clashing ideologies? There is not a single good cause to die for in space. Aspen is an idiot for fighting over Erie. Kristoff is an idiot for not being with me, for picking literally everything else over me.
Even in the dark, I can see the beautiful blue hair. This well-shaped body. The endless assault of affection, trying to coax a high out of me, in so many ways, with so much skill, with so much effort. I must be insane to leave the planet, to even think about Kristoff even after all this time. I should hate him for living rent-free in my mind. I should hate him for thinking about him when I am with Monique and Madeleine, or any other person, really. I hate him for thinking of him right now.
It takes a while, but she asserts her dominance, in mutual happiness and exhaustion. I just wish I had not messed up every single time Madeleine and Monique went to space with me. We could have all this and have adventures together in space. Watching the asteroids drifting near the sun of Tau-29. Watching racers at Sayre. And not having to worry about Kusari and Liberty going at each other's throats over some minerals.
At least my face is no longer cold. My entire body feels warm. Lingering aftermath of bliss and joy. I am an idiot for thinking about space all the time. I should have thought about Monique the entire time. About how happy she makes me, despite being just a very stupid party girl. Chances are she is high from something she took earlier. Chances are there is no thought at all behind her eyes. She once more lies ontop of me, making it harder to breathe.
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