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[MiniKitty]

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Money cannot buy happiness.

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The reality of going from poor to ultra-rich is something I have yet to process. I see the numbers on the account, but they just look like a mistake. Money never mattered to me very much. When I lived on Pittsburgh, there was no money at all. The only currencies were my Water, Synth Paste and my body. When I escaped Pittsburgh, the numbers already got out of control, as suddenly I needed the funds to maintain and upgrade a gunboat. Lea simply gave me ten millions as if it was change, and my first jobs paid me in millions, too. The moment I was told that I had killed a bountied pirate and made my first fortune, the scale was completely gone.

Then the credits reform happened, and two zeroes got removed from all prices and accounts. A girl then somehow managed to steal my money from my account, and for a short time, I was reminded of the concerns of poor people. Will I have the money to buy Synth Paste, Water and pay for my apartment? Pay for power and trash and clothes? Somehow, it was not much of an issue, as my place was open to friends and their friends and the friends of their friends. The downside was that people got drunk, high and on other drugs, sometimes ruined walls and furniture, picked fights and what not. They ignored me. The benefits, however, were that someone took care of immediate issues without me needing to worry. There was always pizza on the table, always water and beverages, someone brought gaming consoles, music was blasting downstairs while other stuff happened upstairs.

Most importantly, though: I was never alone. Not much time to think about Kristoff's death. Not much time to think about the horrors of space. For what it was worth, nothing mattered anymore. I felt no fear. I did not miss out on anything. My one and only exotic need was somehow kept satisfied. To this day I have no idea about the how and why. I do not know what Madeleine sees in me. I do not know what Kristoff saw in me. All beyond my comprehension.



I found out that Kristoff was alive, filed under my name. I won a fortune just when I needed it, so I paid for his treatment. He got released from the Cryer facility, and I was informed about it way too late. I do not know how he got off the planet, but by the time I got the message, he was already in Inverness. In the meantime, I had ordered a new Condor-class gunboat. The Gemini Kay MKII. Just like the old one, just without the stories.

When it arrived, I trusted my instinct and went for Inverness. He would go there, to the Citadel. I was right. He was there, looking at me in surprise, as if he had assumed that I was the one who was believed to be dead. No message, no research. He just assumed I was dead. I found him at Freeport 14, helping a girl with her engines. Cherry. She docked, then we talked. I thought it would be a heartfelt reunion. What it turned out to be was a disaster.

Completely broken I went back to Denver. And now I am here, back at my place. The same chaos as usual. I ignore everyone and go upstairs. My bedroom is claimed by Madeleine, who is reading something on a PDA while lounging on the bed. Skimpy black skirt, revealing tank top, a pink sneaker sock and a black thigh-high.

Hey.

I do not have the strength to say anything in return. Tossing my boots off my feet, I join Madeleine in bed and let myself drop right onto her. She does not say anything, but places hand on my head, as if to pat me.

After having managed to hold it in for the entire trip back to Denver, tears start to shoot out of my eyes, uncontrolled. All my muscles tense up as I lose it. My head hurts. She notices it and embraces me more firmly.

Shit day?

Shit day.

You know, for a millionaire, you're having too many shit days.

Money cannot buy happiness.

Wanna talk about it?

No.



We do not talk about it. I just lay there while she holds me. For minutes. Then I fall asleep.


















I open my eyes again. Madeleine is still with me, but she had managed to unzip my flight suit down to my lower belly. I feel her fingers tracing along my many tattoos on my back. A shame, really. I was hoping to show Kristoff all of those. My entire back, my legs, my arms. No symbols or anything, just black stripes, like a tiger. I thought it was a cool idea to both cover up all the scars from my time on Pittsburgh as well as the... tattoo right above my thing, saying "Property of OSC".

I cannot help but still feel devastated. For three years I thought Kristoff was dead. Purely by chance, I find out he is alive, kept in stasis. I pay for his treatment. He just vanishes, no questions asked. I find him at Freeport 14. We talk. I ask him whether we are still a couple. He basically says no. He tells me about waking up with his arm lost. Shows me his robotic prosthetic. Tells me how much he hates it. Tells me he needs time to process all of this.

He says Revenant did not really welcome him back. She played him as pawn again, immediately taking him out on a sortie. Danger everywhere. He gets mad, admits that he wants to prove her wrong. He wants her to recognize him. Admit that he is not a bottom feeder. But she is blind. To her, all these people are nothing but pawns. Why does he not understand that? Why is it so important to him? Just leave these horrible people. Be with me!


I give in and tell Madeleine about it. I do not know whether she understands everything, but she listens. We go to the balcony, she smokes and listens. We go back to bed, she holds me and listens. I am not sure whether she cares. For all I know, though, she could have taken my lottery ticket and just bail. She did, however, not do that. Something I was wondering about ever since. So I ask her.

Your apartment is full of people who would kill me if you told them I stole your money.

Fair enough.

I'm not saying no to a million, though.

Sure, why not.


A few minutes later, Madeleine has a million credits on her account. She laughs in disbelief but does not make any motion to leave. Once more, I am not sure whether she actually cares or not.

She stays.


Can I ask you something?

Sure.

What are you doing here? Like, what made you come here? It is literally a drug den.


I can hear her taking a long, deep breath. Her chest pushes against my back as I am lying ontop of her, spooned by her considerably taller stature. Her hands slide down my chest to my belly and slowly move up again.

Creative break. Maybe some sort of escapism.
I don't really know, Levan. I come here to chill.
You're cute, too. Maybe it's the sex.
I don't fucking know. Nor do I care, really.

Huh.

Not really the answer you were hoping for, huh?

I did not really expect anything.

I feel empty. Nothing matters, really.
I can study and become a therapist, or I don't.
In the end, I will work ten hours a day.
And the government will find ways to piss me off anyway.

But then why hang out here?

Good company, free pizza, music, good sex, too.
As much as I hate to say it, but, you know.
You only live once.
So I'll get drunk and fuck and smoke and dance.

I guess I am lucky you came here, then.

We can both be.

I turn around to face her. Despite her orange lips having that weird taste of mint cigarettes, I make out with her.

A while later we are both on the balcony again, looking at the morning sun. Of course she smokes. Her eyes are locked onto me. She has these big black eyelashes. Super intimidating, really. That stare, piercing.


Do you always stare at people like this?

Does it make you feel uncomfortable?

I just wonder why you look at me like that.

Maybe to see your reaction.

Her index finger taps her cigarette. A stick of ashes drops to the floor of the balcony, right next to the ashtray. The slight breeze pushes it to roll around. I shake my head, trying to avoid her gaze. She does a good job at making me not think of Kristoff.

I am not sure what to think. I like her.

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