Without meaning to, I found myself relaxing just a little. Okay, fine, I could admit it! Deacon was not a bad-looking guy. He had this sort of effortless confidence and poise that made it easy to just… be, around him.

Probably from all his work bartending. He was effortlessly keeping up a quippy conversation with me about shows and songs he liked and why, while also serving what had to be at least twenty drinks every three minutes or so. It was impressive, and I wasn't even properly contributing to the conversation.

Oh, I was trying, but it became obvious to me about two minutes into our little chat that I knew way too little about shows and music. I used to watch a bunch of cartoons when I was younger, but once I had to work for a living, it all sort of fell by the wayside.

Even my music collection was atrocious. I had my favorites and the stuff I replayed over and over. But again, it had been been a long, long time since I could just relax and browse stuff.

Ironically, Amelia had helped me out a ton on this front. She liked to listen to music in the background while working, and she had a way of dragging me into watching silly shows with her. This let me flounder through the conversation with Deacon somewhat confidently.

Well. That and the fact that Amelia was excitedly whisper-shouting things for me to say.

Really, at one point I became something like a messaging system between the two as they exchanged opinions. And while Amelia fumed about the 'insults to masterpieces' Deacon was laying out, I was able to convert her tirades into something both teasing and coherent.

It was… weird. Not bad weird, per say, because I at least felt like I was making a friend. But I was kind of on a date with a man I was letting my girlfriend chat up through me. While also, you know, having a girlfriend.

Does it count as cheating if your own GF is maliciously encouraging you to do it so you can commit a double homicide later?

It hurt my brain and heart to consider, so I just didn't.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm finally wrapping up," Deacon assured me as he ran a dishrag over the counter.

"Hey, you don't need to hurry on my account." I chuckled, feeling just the right kind of warm and maybe a little woozy. "I'm having fun!"

And I was. Again, as weird as it sounds, I'd somehow managed to carve out a small corner of the bar where no one bothered me or tried to touch me. Besides, I'd stopped twitching at the sensation of people's eyes passing over me about… eh… three drinks in?

"Mmm, I think I should have tried your cocktails way earlier," I mumbled to myself, but Deacon caught it and grinned at me wildly.

I idly panned my head over the crowd, particularly at the sunken dance floor section, and grumbled about stupid mercs who couldn't even show up to their own ambush.

Quietly, of course. Under my breath. No way Deacon could overhear.

Amelia did, though. "Oh, relax. The night's young! You've been having relatively mild drinks. You can go for a while yet… though, erm, you probably want to slow down on the drinks. Maybe."

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you very much. And not very murder-y at the moment, either!" I snapped back at her silently, speaking within the safety of my mind. Probably.

I looked around as subtly as I could, which was very subtle indeed. No one was reacting like they'd just heard a crazy person talk to himself, so…

"There you are," Deacon declared, suddenly materializing next to me.

I slowly blinked up at him. "You are sneaky."

"Nah, you are just distracted. As your designated bartender for the night, I'm making the executive decision to cut you off for an hour or two."

I gasped and squinted at the man who suddenly dared to stop the sweet drinks from coming. "You wouldn't!"

"Oh, but I would. If not as your bartender, then as your date. Wouldn't want ya to pass out on me before I can maybe convince you to dance. Now, c'mere."

He placed a hand against my back, very gently and very, very hesitantly, then proceeded to lightly push me along when I didn't have a freak-out.

Sure, there was a twinge of annoyance and unease, but it was both dulled and not very strong to begin with. The poofy fur was annoying, but coupled with the armor itself, it really was doing an incredible job of stopping me from spiraling. Indirect contact for the win!

Unfortunately, I couldn't hide from the flush spreading over my cheeks forever by diving into the analysis of my Stalker reactions.

"Okay, if I were more into hunks and not cuties like you, I'd totally be all over this guy," Amelia teased, her tone pitched just the right way to make my face explore even deeper tones of red. "Is this evening going to end with me being down a boyfriend? Please tell me it ain't so?"

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"Shut up!" I hissed, once more hunting for the mercs. "I'm focusing!"

"On what? The cute guy doing his best to win you over? Okay, then, I'm shutting up!"

I grumbled under my breath, but I was apparently a bit too loud now, because Deacon shot me a confused look.

"It's nothing!" I hurried to assure him. "Just… wondering where we're going?"

He smiled. "Oh, I hope you'll like it."

We finally arrived at another bar setup, where he proceeded to lift the little hatch-thing that blocked access and then ushered me behind it.

"Oh, hey, Dee!" A cute freckled girl in a bunny outfit that was almost as over-the-top as my cat ensemble greeted us enthusiastically. "This your date? Awww, you're so cute together! The badass vampire count and his cat familiar!"

My face felt like it was going to be permanently on fire now.

Deacon gave a silly, exaggerated laugh that flashed all his teeth at us, and I finally noticed the fangs. I also realized he wasn't much for 'exaggerated' facial expressions. That was my first time catching a glimpse of his teeth all evening, even though he'd gone for the full dental prosthetic to round out his outfit.

"Yep yep, this is him. Ames here isn't much for the crowds, so I figured I'd show off the upstairs to him. That cool with you?"

"Yeh, man, go right on through. Maybe I'll join ya guys upstairs when I'm done with my own shift."

Deacon nodded, and I remembered to mumble a quick, confused thanks to the bunny bartender before he dragged me through a door.

Instantly, the pulse of the music, the dancing lights, the overwhelming smell of the crowd, it all cut out. I staggered but recovered quickly. Alien instincts took over and rooted my feet to the ground, despite the unsteadiness of the rest of me.

I'd somehow missed it until then, but my head was full of cotton and everything swam just a little. Not my eyesight, of course. That was as flawless as ever. It just felt like my brain was struggling to process it all.

"Woah! Fuck. Sorry. Should have noticed how far you'd gone way earlier. You mentioned before that you didn't drink much, and I still let my attention slip. Here, let me help you upstairs. If that's okay?"

I nodded mutely, keeping my eyes on my feet because I suddenly felt like I'd hurl if I looked up or moved too quickly. This was more than enough to keep my mind off of close contact with Deacon. While I flinched when he first gripped my elbow, I didn't really react past that.

We were in a long, dimly lit corridor that led deeper into the building. Crates of stuff were stacked along the walls. I was so focused on my steps forward, on keeping myself steady, that I almost walked straight into a bunch of crates when Deacon suddenly reoriented us. Lifting my head a little, I spotted a thin staircase going up. It had been almost perfectly concealed by all the crates.

The stairs were a little tricky, but I was feeling better more quickly than I'd expected. By the time the staircase looped around and deposited us in front of a door I was pretty sure faced the way we'd come from, I was almost fully cognizant again and capable of thinking straight.

Then Deacon threw the door open, and I blinked in astonishment.

He'd led us to some kind of a… lounge, would be the best descriptor. The wall directly opposite us was pure glass, providing a bird's-eye view of the bar's bowels. The bars, the dance floor, everything. The lounge wrapped around the entire upper half of the bar, though I only noticed a couple tired-looking staff members in the massive space. Well, and one sour-faced security professional, who was sweeping his eyes over everyone down in the bar like they owed him money and might try to bolt.

"Woah… What is this place?" I breathed as Deacon called out greetings to the other staff. I even waved at them myself when he introduced me.

"Our private break lounge! Neat, right? Typically, the club owner would turn a space like this into a VIP lounge or something, but… Let's just say Finah is a little paranoid about 'letting people into spaces we can't properly secure'," Deacon scoffed, clearly amused rather than upset. "Plus it's nice to have our own place to unwind, ya know?"

"Yeah, I get it… Finah, though?"

"Hmm? Oh. The owner. The bunny we met downstairs. She's really chill, honestly. Loves this bar and working in it. Retired and opened it when she decided she'd had enough of that merc life. Says she wants to offer a 'safe, accepting space for people in her previous profession.' Apparently, a bunch of places turn mercs away on principle. Especially places that sell alcohol of any kind."

I let a startled laugh escape me at that. The cute fluffy bunny was a former merc? Old and successful enough to retire and just purchase a whole ass bar in the inner districts? I felt a sudden shot of adrenaline course through me.

"Well, that's… something!"

"Yeah, Finah really is. Honestly, we can only run this place 'cause of her contacts, excellent security, and the respect everyone in her former industry has for her."

Deacon shook his head as we settled down at a small, private stall with a perfect view of the bar below. I could imagine my scanning software doing a happy little jig. "Listen…"

He trailed off. His voice had gone perfectly stern, focused, and apologetic, yet his words failed him utterly.

"Yeeeess?" I prodded gently, when I realized he wouldn't speak up if I just waited.

"I-I wanted to apologize. Again. You didn't look like the merc type, and I was having fun, so I… It's not an excuse. I know. Lots of people have weird hang-ups about their cybernetics. Losing a limb, especially in a traumatic way… Well, I mean, I notice how you flinch in response to touch. Now." There was a lot of bitterness in that one word. "I just wasn't paying attention before, and —"

"Deacon — Dee," I corrected myself, using the nickname he'd told me to use halfway through my drinking spree. "It's not your fault, I promise. And I also promise it's not quite what you think it is. I mean… yeah, I have my issues with my cybernetics, and yeah, I didn't choose to lop my arms off and get replacements, but none of that was your fault. You were just trying to get me to have fun, and I appreciate that."

My little speech was shockingly honest. I mean, there was about zero percent chance for anything romantic to develop between us, but I genuinely liked the guy as a friend prospect. Fuck, if I'd met him before the whole mess with eyes, stolen cybernetics, and lopped-off arms — and before Amelia, of course — I might actually have given him a shot.

"Thanks. I guess I can only promise I'll do better." Deacon shot me a slightly strained smile. He was not completely convinced, but he looked relieved enough to be 'forgiven' that I felt more than a little guilty about what I was doing. "On the drinks front, too. Fuck, I almost let you have too many. Maybe I already did?"

"It's fine, really!" I laughed, feeling way, way better. "Honestly? I don't even think this was about the drinks. I felt fine before, and I'm feeling a ton better now. It was the music and the lights, I think? They were both much… louder, than when I visited last."

"Yeah, that can happen. People —"

I stopped paying attention. I stopped even being able to listen to him. Because, with a quiet chime of a notification, my eyes suddenly highlighted two individuals down on the dance floor.

Oliwia Rangel and Rafe O'Quinn. They were here.

Together.

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