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“My date idea was better,” said Paige.
Despite the approaching downcycle, Argon’s pool hall was animated and torrid. It buzzed with voltaic circuits, mumbled voices, and the hum of music. Beck and Paige strode shoulder-to-shoulder into the playing field. There was a gaggle of civilians lounging around a bench, and when Paige breezed by their game, they did a double-take. Citizens socializing with the Occupation was an unusual sight. Not unheard of, but unusual.
“Yeah, well, skydiving from a military chopper is kinda hard to top,” said Beck, grabbing a rack from the wall as he passed. Turning midstep, he walked backwards to the nearest table, eyes never leaving hers. “Besides, it would do you some good to get out more. Have some normal fun. Do what regular programs do.”
“I can be normal,” she protested.
Beck let out a snort before pivoting to the free table. He set up the rack in the center and watched as the billiards materialized inside. With a skip in his step, he went back to the wall and retrieved a pair of purple cues. The soft glow against his skin evoked feelings in Paige that were both welcome and inconvenient.
“Would you like to go first, Commander Paige?”
He extended an arm to offer her a cue. She snatched the pole from his grip, ignoring the way her circuits sang at the contact. Wriggling in place, she aimed the shaft at the triangle, then gave her elbow a gentle jerk. She broke at an angle and the balls went spinning in all directions. One bounced from the rest and rolled into the closest pocket.
A slow clap sounded behind her. “Not bad, sir. I believe it is your turn again.”
“Oh shut up,” she said, hiding her smile behind an arm.
Shaking with laughter, Paige misjudged the force and distance behind her second stroke. It scratched the surface of the table and sent the cue ball careening into space. She swore as she straightened.
“Language, Commander~” Beck plucked up the cue ball and bounced it merrily in his palm.
“Frag you.”
Far from being intimidated, Beck just chuckled. He went to a side rail, assumed the stance, and swung with expert precision. There were a couple quiet clinks before a pair of balls sank into pockets. Paige blinked and rounded the perimeter of the table, half-convinced that her eyes were deceiving her. She processed for a few more nanos before speaking.
“You cheated.”
He shot her a wink, rolling his pole into the other hand. “No tricks! Just skill. We mechanics know how to work well with our hands.”
Paige’s only reply was a theatrical sniff.
They spent the next several nanos just cleaning the table, exchanging jibes like they were jump shots. Time and time again Beck proved to be the more experienced player. Sometimes he went on the defensive, blocking her at every turn. Other times he pocketed billiards that appeared in the most impossible positions. More than once, Paige got the distinct impression that she was being played with.
About halfway through the game, Paige took her place at the side rail to try for a ball in the kitchen end. Though her eyes were trained on the billiard, her focus was locked on the body behind her. A sort of electric tingling spread from the tips of her fingers to her toes. Thinking fast, she bowed to hide her expression, and the current faded. The ball went wide and she dropped her head.
"I... haven't done this for a while."
"It shows." Beck snorted, only to duck under Paige's cue. "Kidding, kidding -"
High peals of laughter filled the room. All around them, patrons turned from their games to watch. Paige paid them no mind.
He had the most wonderful laugh.
Once recovered, Beck said, “Y’know, I haven’t done this in a while, either.”
“Really? But you’re so good at it.”
"Not this," he said, before winding his hand with hers. There was a squeeze for emphasis. " This ."
Paige spared a glance at their intertwined fingers, hastily burying the impulse to squeeze back. She broke the hold and drifted to the other end, ridding herself of the jitters.
Perhaps a change in topic was in order.
"You know, I always wondered... How did a lowly mechanic learn to fight in the Games?"
"I don't know. How did a medic become a Commander?" Beck countered.
She rolled her eyes. "It's a long story."
"We've got time."
For a while Paige considered him. Then she closed her eyes. Her past was rather... dramatic , and she didn't want to burden him with it. Not on the second date, anyway.
"I used to run a clinic in Bismuth with a couple other medics."
"What happened?"
Her eyes opened. "Rogue programs. No survivors. Needless to say, the clinic doesn't exist anymore."
She'd censored much of the event, but this conversation was dour enough already. Today was supposed to be fun.
Paige couldn’t see Beck’s expression, but when he spoke, it was with a sotto voice.
“I’m sorry.”
Her answering shrug was more stiff than she would've liked. The ISOs' betrayal was a wound that still hadn't healed—perhaps would never heal.
"Not your fault," she said, bending low over the table.
This next shot was a tricky one, best approached at a bank. Lips pursed in concentration, Paige lined up, then let her cue loose. The wrong billiard ricocheted off the railing and sank into a pocket with a dissatisfying ' thump '. She saw it derezz shortly afterwards, with Beck watching all the while. He planted his pole into the floor and pretended to lean on it.
"What are you doing?" Paige couldn’t resist asking.
"Trying to imagine you in medical circuits." His roaming eyes came to rest on her face. "I think you'd look good in green."
Again, the buzzing sparked through her circuits. She brushed a casual hand across her bangs, tucking a loose lock behind her ear.
"I look good in everything."
He huffed a laugh. "Fair enough."
Somewhere in the depths of her files Paige extracted the memory of a young medic, bright-eyed, naïve-faced, and blazing with emerald light lines.
"My hair was awful back then, but the green... The green did look great. I kinda miss it."
"I'd like to see that sometime,” he said.
Paige stared, staggered by the emotion etched in his face. In an instant she knew he was being sincere. Never before had a program expressed interest in her life before the Occupation. She’d tried to shelve the memories, to move on as a new, more powerful person. And yet, she still composed music, still kept a monome hidden in her quarters.
She tipped her head toward the table. “It’s your turn, mechanic.”
Neither one of them moved. The air between them seemed to crackle. She roved her eyes over his body, taking in the teal light lines and the chiselled contours.
"Only if you go red for a bit,” she said, at last. The words came out before she could stop them.
Beck seemed to crash for a nano, eyes widening by a fraction before he let out a delayed laugh.
“What?”
“I’ll let you see me in green if you give red a try,” she said with an upturn of her chin.
He scratched at his jaw and set his shoulders resolutely. "Hoho, are we bargaining now?"
"Maybe."
"How about this. Whoever wins the next round gets to change the other's render. Say, for one day-cycle?"
"Quarter-cycle." She tapped his chest and he backed up, blushing pink along his circuits. A smirk prickled along her lips. "You're on."
“You’re just saying yes because you don’t want to finish the game,” said Beck. His chest was puffed and his crooked smile seemed especially teasing. “Admit it, I have the superior skills.”
She shrugged, fighting to stifle giggles. Despite her best efforts, a single snicker slipped out. Somehow this program was able to burrow under her skin, cause cracks in her carefully constructed render, make her feel like… Paige . Not the Commander, and not even the Medic.
Just Paige.
“What can I say? I guess I’m just green with envy.”
“Oh-” He reeled back with a hand clutching his core. “Oh, that was terrible.”
“Absolutely awful,” she agreed.
After clearing the board, Beck set up a new game under snooker settings. The triangle rack was returned to the table and fifteen billiards took shape inside, with others appearing at various points around the table. It was a fresh game. A clean slate.
Beck went first this time and immediately struck a ball into scoring position. And again, and again. Each flash of light left Paige a little more amused than before.
"Show off,” said Paige.
Arching a playful brow, Beck rose from the rail. Paige felt the provocation in his gaze. He was challenging her—in more ways than one.
"You think you got better?"
END