Bottom

[MiniKitty]

---

I just want to cheer her up.

---

Madeleine essentially moved in. I am not sure what kind of relationship it is we have, but I guess it is something very open. Open-ish. We never talked about it. It just happened. Just like Monique just happened. Another girl that usually came over to chill out and party. In a way, she is more like me than Madeleine. Not really educated, not really deep. She does not think about what she says, which often makes her drop pearls out of her mouth. A very funny girl, very happy, very direct.

I asked Monique to help me with getting clothes for Aspen, as I thought she would not exactly look forward to walk around openly on Denver. I do not know if anyone even knows that Aspen was a Zoner, or a terrorist, even. Is she wanted? No idea. But I guess it is always better to be careful. She would likely prefer not to live on a planet right now, but... I think that is the last place where people would look for her. Out in the open, living a casual-ish life.

I showed Aspen how I live. How the lower story looks like, with all those chaotic people. And the upper story. She slept in the room next to my bedroom, which, in hindsight, was... probably not the best idea since Madeleine and Monique sleep in my bed, too. Of course I only thought about it afterwards. I have the slight suspicion that Monique was extra loud to mark her territory. Aspen said she did not hear anything during the night, but when she said she prefers to sleep at the gunboat, I think is all the sign I need.

Good job, Levan. You made it awkward again.



I am still baffled that Aspen is alive and now with me. Three damn years. I missed her so much, and now she is back. At heart, she is still the same little nerd girl that I randomly stumbled upon when I needed water. A bit silly, a bit of a goof ball. But she has matured. Whatever happened down on Erie, it turned her into Aspen Mark 2, really. I cannot imagine what horrors happened to her. She probably made friends on Erie, and then had to watch them die. Madeleine is only a psychology student, but maybe she can provide some therapy to her? She has interesting ideas on thinking about things.

Aspen also looks quite good. Very fit. Monique bought her all kinds of... clothes. Among them one of those tight-fit flight suits, like the one I have. I told her she should go to a bar and have some fun. After all, when she sent me to Freeport 14, that was her advice, too. Go to a bar, have a drink.

I do not think she is a person to do that, but who knows. Nobody expected her to be a freedom fighter, either. In a moment of deep-talking, she admitted that she gets a kick out of fighting. She enjoys that excitement. That risk. I told her that we could go an explore the universe together. Maybe that just scratches her itch without the entire throwing-her-life-away part.



Admittedly, I am a bit worried about that idea, though. Space exploration has a load of risks, too. And then there are these stupid Rogues. They got their asses handed to them by the Navy and Bunters a few times while I was snooping around, so I guess they could use some easy prey to get at least one win. There is also that weirdo that pirated me three years ago. For whatever reason, he remembered me. I guess that checks out? If the Rogues get stomped by the Navy over and over again, they likely remember the few times they get to make money off some people.

He seemed obsessively interested in Aspen, and he knows Kristoff. I saw the disgust in Aspen's face when he creeped up on us at the Manhattan grid. She was held at gunpoint by him somewhen in the past.

Anyway, Aspen will get her own new ship soon. She obviously does not like it that I am paying for it, but what good is a fortune when I cannot spend it on things for my friends. Although, we have a little agreement about her occasionally taking the co-pilot seat on the Kay. I do, honestly, enjoy it not to be alone in the cockpit the entire time. Admittedly, if Kristoff was around, that would be even better.

Wait, why do you even cook when you don't eat anything but Synth Paste yourself?

Just connect the dots, Mo.

Whaddya mean?

He has the hots for her.

... Not exactly.


I am in the kitchen, trying to focus on the video on my PDA to follow the individual steps of recipe. It was not complicated at all. I already had the potatoes peeled, diced, boiled and then munched into a paste. Monique is glued to my back, having one arm wrapped around my bare upper body, slightly hindering my movement. She looks over my shoulder, watching me as I remove the edges of some slices of white bread, shaping them into perfect, clean-cut squares.

Madeleine sits in a small chair at the window and smokes a cigarette, watching from afar with an almost unsettling neutral expression.

Not exactly, huh?

I am way too young for her. She is in her mid-thirties. No need to be jealous.

Then why are you cooking for her?
And more importantly, why not for us!?

I flatten the slices as much as possible. Then I take a spoon and apply the mashed potato on the slices.


She has been through a lot. I just want to cheer her up.

And what about us? Look at how thin I am.
Literally starved!

You had pizza, Mo.

And!?

... in bed, even.

Yeah! And!?

Not even an hour ago.

What has time to do with that?
I would love to have a man cook for me!

If Aspen likes these, I will make more of them.

You could just make more of them right now, Levan.

Can I please just do these ones and then see if they are good?


I add mozzarella cheese flakes in the center of the slices and then fold the slices into triangular pockets. At some point I tried to wiggle myself out of Monique's grasp, but instead of letting go of me, she held me now with two arms, one around my chest, one around my lower belly. Her scent is a mix of Synth Haze, my shampoo and my deodorant - Mo did not bother getting her own stuff. Her breath also hinted at the aforementioned pizza.

I crack two eggs and mix the yolk with the white to a fine orange-ish creamy fluid, then dip the sandwich pockets into it and then roll them around in a bowl of breadcrumbs I had prepared earlier. A pot of hot oil was already heating up on the stove and seemed to have the perfect temperature to fry the pockets. Mo takes a few steps back as she seemed to be intimidated by the hot oil.

Madeleine keeps watching from where she sits, idly rubbing her clean-shaved legs against each other while occasionally looking out of the window. She said she liked the view. Not that there was much of a panorama, given that it was just a bunch of tall trees and more brutalist buildings. On the little table in front of her was a can of soda, silently sparkling as the frying sounds from the pot were considerably louder.

Mo got audibly and visually more and more excited and jealous about the final product.

In the end, I had to give in and pay the food tax to Mo and Madeleine. Seven out of eight fried cheese sandwiches would make it to Aspen. That is acceptable.

I go over to the bedroom to fetch some clothes. Aspen would probably not want to see me in just underwear. I get a little container for the six fried sandwiches. In an attempt to show me how much more beneficial it would be for me to cook for her, too, Monique pushes me against the fridge and kisses me. It is quite... hot, but also weird, because her kisses now are a little greasy and her lips taste of fried sandwich. After a few seconds, she lets go of me as Madeleine sits down on her little chair again. I actually had not noticed she had gone up, really. Weird.

Anyway, I put the five fried sanwiches into the little container, and then remember that I do not have napkins on the Kay, so I turn around to get some from the kitchen counter. A little bit of thoughtful convenience cannot hurt. I put a few napkins in the little container, right next to the four fried cheese sandwiches and close the container to prevent any further casualties. As it turned out, Mo was quite the glutton in more than one aspect.


With the little present, I make my way to the gunboat, hoping Aspen would appreciate the four fried cheese sandwiches.

---