I stared blankly at the guy, not that he could really see my eyes at all with the glasses in the way. Meanwhile, Amelia was doing her best to kill herself via lack of oxygen, if her wheezing was anything to go by.

In my defense, out of everything I'd expected to be offered… a drink wasn't it.

After a few seconds of him looking at me expectantly while I tried to divine what the fuck he was on about, his smile wavered a little. "Eh, I'm not pressing or anything, Newbs. Was just offering a drink!"

I remembered then that it wasn't socially acceptable to just stare at someone while you think. Funnily enough, Amelia didn't seem to mind the few times I did that around her.

"Urm, no, sorry, I was just confused for a second. I mean, yeah, a drink sounds… good?"

"Oh fuck Adrian, you're going to kill me," Amelia wheezed out as the guy's whole face lit up.

"Great! What do ya like? Something hard, sweet, or what?"

There was something about the tone of his voice I was missing. There had to be, because Amelia wouldn't be hacking her lungs out otherwise.

"I don't really drink a lot, I'll be honest," I replied a bit awkwardly, my eyes occasionally straying to take in the rest of the bar's interior. I was deeply regretting that I hadn't just run out the second I had the chance earlier.

"Hmmm, I'll pick something out for ya, then. Yeah, I think sweeter drinks would suit you just fine," he practically purred, then turned to address the bartender. As he did so, he leaned against the counter again, flexing his muscles in a way that was really… not… necessary…

My mind slowed, then kicked into overdrive as my eyes widened.

Wait. Backup. Rewind.

He's flirting with me!

"Sure as fuck he's flirting with you, idiot. What did you think he was doing?" Amelia cackled.

My entire face went up in flames. "How the fuck did you hear that?!"

"We're on a call that taps into your head to make it convenient to communicate without actually talking. You tell me!"

Before I could snap back at the unhelpful ass getting a front row view of my humiliation, the guy trying to flirt with me sidled up and pressed in a little too close while holding out some kind of drink.

"Here ya go, sweet as you please."

There went that grin again, and fuck me sideways I blushed, which only had him grinning wider!

"I — urm, t-thanks," I mumbled, taking a sip of the odd, multicolored drink. It was blue, red, and purple, with sparkles spread throughout. To my shock, it actually tasted pretty good, some kind of chocolate-y aroma with an undertone of strawberries and something else I couldn't identify.

"Okay, this is really good," I admitted out loud, which made Amelia titter while my temporary companion nodded in understanding.

"Yeah, I getcha. It's mostly all manly drinks and such shit around here, but there's lots of amazing cocktails if you go looking."

"Familiar with what most people order, are you?" I asked, unable to help myself from feeling a little curious.

I very pointedly ignored Amelia's teasing in the background, because I very much was not reciprocating the guy's advances. I was just… curious. And maybe flattered a little.

Okay, flattered a lot.

I hadn't exactly been the peak of attractiveness back in the slums. Frankly, that was helpful. No one was going to go out of their way to kidnap or rape a twiggy, short, decidedly underfed slum rat. Not when fresher meat was always available around the corner.

As for actual romantic attention, I never minded the lack. I was too young at first, and then too desperate later. Not a lot of space to think about flirting or partying when you're barely making ends meet and your eyes are a constant countdown to the end in the back of your mind.

It was fucking hard to forget about those for even a second, too. How can you 'put what ails you aside' when you literally rely on that particular organ for perception of the world you live in?

So, it was no parties, no flirting, and definitely nothing beyond that for me.

And while I was aware of the fact that I'd changed more than a little over the last few months (and that I'd turned seventeen at some point, which I'd completely missed too), it was hard for me to see anything but an underfed kid or a monster when I looked in the mirror. I did sort of have what could be charitably called abs, though. Plus, I'd filled out even more from all the meals Amelia had been throwing at me recently.

Meanwhile, the guy-who-was-actually-flirting-with-me was answering my question.

"Yeah, guess I am. I work here as a bartender, actually. Just finished my shift and figured I'd get in some dancing and fun in before I go home for the day." There was that husky way of talking again. It wasn't really doing things for me, even though I found it flattering, but I could admit he was a decently attractive guy. Muscular, high cheekbones, 'dreamy blue eyes' and all that. "Name's Deacon, by the way."

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"Well, Deacon, it's nice to meet you. My name's Ames."

I threw the name out smoothly, in my humble opinion, though I did panic for a second when I opened my mouth.

"Oi, shitass! Don't steal my name like that!" Amelia hissed in the background, but she sounded amused more than anything. "Also, focus up. If he works here, he has useful info. You can think about getting it on with him later."

I flushed again, thanks to the stupid former lab assistant. Which, again, seemed to only encourage the guy — Deacon, I reminded myself.

"Bet you see all sorts of interesting customers… Actually, you have a pretty unique clientele. What's up with that? I'll be honest, I kind of just saw the bar and wandered in."

"Heh, yeah, you can say that twice. Surprised you stayed once you saw what the crowd here's like. No hard feelings or anything, but you don't look like the type to visit this place."

I just arched my brow. "And what would the 'type' visiting this place be?"

"Mercs, mostly."

I fought very hard not to stiffen at that. Then again, everyone in the club was built like they could crush me on a whim, so maybe it shouldn't have been a shock.

"The owner's a former merc himself," Deacon went on. "So he made this place friendly to the people in the profession."

"Friendly? What makes this place so different?"

"This is the inner districts, my guy. I get it that you probably don't have much experience with the types, but mercs are… rough, I guess. They can start shit quickly, make regular civvies nervous, that kind of thing. I mean, would you really want guys like that getting drunk around you?"

He pointed towards the dance floor, where a nearly full-borg couple were grinding against each other. Honestly, now that he'd brought it up? Yeah, I'd probably want to be as far away from them as possible at the first sign of them being drunk, if they even had enough flesh left to get to that point.

Except, oddly enough, there wasn't a shot of fear to accompany the sight of the borgs. Before, even when I was ready to fight as part of the Kittens, borgs had always inspired in me a quiet sense of dread. Yet now… while the thought of borgs and dangerous mercs worried me on an intellectual level, my body was refusing to flood me with that good old adrenaline reaction.

Still, I couldn't exactly share any of that with Deacon.

"Yeah, I get it." I shrugged. "Guess I was a little careless?"

"You were, but hey, I'll chalk it up as good luck on my part. And it's not like you'll get hurt with me here," he bragged, doing the whole flexing thing again.

I'll admit, he did get me to chuckle and flush. All of a sudden, I felt a tiny bit clumsier as I almost fumbled a sip of my drink.

"If you're not too busy flirting to listen to me, I've got some news." Amelia's voice piped in, and I glanced at the image of her to find her focused on the second scroll. "I did some digging on their socials. Apparently, there's going to be some kind of a huge party in that bar in four days. Both of our targets are going to be attending."

I struggled with what to say for a second, then just latched on to what Amelia had told me.

"So… do you just have dancing around here, or do you do any events?"

Thankfully, Deacon seemed more than happy to chat about his work. "Oh, we do all kinds of things. We had an old time-y ball once, like they used to do way back on Terra. Costume parties, masked parties, all sorts of shit, really." Then a calculating gleam entered his eyes. "We're actually throwing an event this weekend. Curious? I can get you an invite if you'd like to come. I'd love to show this place off to you when a party really gets going."

I cleared my throat and refused to back away when he leaned in closer to whisper those words to me conspiratorially.

"Depends on what kind of party it's going to be." My voice almost cracked, and Amelia was laughing at me again, but I really thought I delivered the line smoothly.

"My favorite kind. Costume! You won't believe what kind of things people come up with," he laughed, shaking his head. "So? What do you say? Curious what I'll be going as?"

My seductive smile could maybe have used a little work, but there he was, offering me a direct and legitimate invite and excuse to be there at the bar at the exact same time as my targets.

Now if only Amelia. Would. Stop. Cackling!

"Sure," I said. "I'd love to find out."

"It's a date then!" It was a good thing I was done with my drink, or I might have choked on it. As it was, my cheeks were trying to melt off my face again. Deacon noticed both of those facts, since he snatched my empty glass away with a laugh. "What do you say we go out there and try out the dance floor together?"

He went right for my newly empty hand, and I was rendered paralyzed as two entirely different impulses tore through me.

One side wanted me to pull away, embarrassed. Or maybe let him hold my hand, but decline the dance.

The other impulse urged me to tear his throat out with my claws before the human ever had another chance to lay his filthy defiling hands on my flesh.

Deacon would never know the reason why I froze up, but he sure as fuck didn't miss the instant I did so. Even before his hand fully closed around mine, his eyes went wide and he pulled away like I'd burned him.

"Shit, fuck, sorry! Your hand — I mean, cybernetics are no reason to — there's plenty of veterans who come here with — Fuck. Just — Sorry."

I blinked at him, still trying to untangle the mess of impulses raging through me. But something about the genuine panic on the guy's face pulled me far enough into the present to find my tongue.

"D-Don't worry. It wasn't… I mean…"

"No, no, I screwed up. No reason to explain. I know some people — urm, I mean, the trauma and — Fuck. This is part of our basic training and I screwed up because of a cute guy. Listen, I'm sorry, and if you don't want to come to the party, I totally —"

"No! No, it's… it's fine, I promise. I just — I should probably go for today. It was fun talking to you, though, honest. And thanks for the drink!" I rushed the words out, feeling a pang of guilt at the hesitant smile he gave me, and which I wasn't sure I managed to return before speed-walking out of the bar.

I could barely hold back the heaving breaths that were threatening to overtake me. The shuddering of my hands didn't fade until I was at least a block away. They weren't there because I was scared or embarrassed. They were there because a part of me wanted, with a burning passion, to go back and tear out Deacon's throat.

"Adrian?"

With the shivers fading away, I finally managed to focus past my thundering heart on Amelia's voice. A very worried voice.

"I-I'm fine. I'm fine," I breathed out audibly, drawing an odd look from a passerby.

"You don't look fine. You know you can talk to me, right? What happened?"

It was hard to argue with the sincerity of her voice.

"I… I don't know. He touched my hand, and suddenly the only thing a good chunk of my brain wanted to do was tear him apart."

This admission, I sent over our channel only. I didn't need to add 'getting arrested' to my itinerary for the day.

She was silent for a beat. I could definitely tell Amelia had something on her mind.

"Hurry home?" she said finally. "I promise you'll be fine. We'll figure this out."

The word 'home' sent a pang of longing and thankfulness ringing through me, but it was accompanied by a flash of fear.

Would it be fine?

Or would I turn on her, the way I almost turned on a guy who was just trying to flirt with me?

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