Chapter Text
Tuesday, October 19
Your shift on Tuesday dashes by faster than you can blink — culminating in the reality that you barely have time to think about your upcoming time with Silco. Between rushes you’re consumed by all the tasks that need to be accomplished before shift’s end, like keeping the lobby clean, putting in the vendor orders on time, and sending your team off for their breaks.
You’re unable to fit in the extra managerial tasks Sevika asked you to cover during your shift, but at least they’re things you can accomplish outside of the shop. They’ll be easy to check off your to-do list once you’re in the peace and quiet of The Last Drop, because (let’s face it) as much as you’d love to pretend that you and Silco will be too distracted by each other’s presence to get anything done, you’re a realist at heart.
You’ll probably only have a few minutes of conversation dedicated to something other than business.
You hustle to take the trash out, wash the leftover dishes, and refill the stock cupboards before the next lead arrives for you to update, but by some miracle you manage to clock out on time. You only take the time to top off your water bottle (and shift coffee) before snagging your bag and hustling out the door.
The porcupine haired boy lets you into The Last Drop, and before heading to the stairs you search the bar hopefully for a familiar face. Your heart lifts when you see the flash of a bald head peek above the counter.
“Cal!”
The head pops up at the sound of the name, and Cal’s face breaks into a broad, gap-toothed grin.
“Well look who it is!”
He rounds the counter and you step into his arms for a hug.
“It’s good to see you, love. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.”
“I could never,” You sigh before pulling back. “Connor and Monique told me they saw you yesterday, and I was like hey! I miss that guy.”
“That’s too kind. But I can’t believe you came all this way just to see me. Perhaps you’re in the market for my world famous advice? Or is your phone in need of another charge?”
You laugh. “I finally got another one, actually.”
“Good for you! It must be a relief.”
“Yeah, I haven’t had to charge it yet, but it feels wrong not to have it connected to a cord all the time. Is it weird that I kind of miss it? The phone, not the perpetual charging. It was like an old friend. I had it for almost six years.”
“I know the feelin’. My old flippy was with me for almost eight before I was forced into the 21st century. I’ve still got it in a drawer in my apartment somewhere.”
“I wish I could have kept mine, but it was a trade in.”
“How much did you get for it?”
“Uh, I don’t remember,” You lie with a jolt of panic. “But probably not very much. I guess it’ll show up on my phone bill. I needed a new phone whether I got a good price on the trade-in or not.”
“True enough,” He folds his arms and leans back against the counter. “It seemed to be a bit more trouble than it was worth.”
“You are absolutely correct.”
“So, if it isn’t my advice or a charge, what brings you to this establishment on such a fine day?”
“I just got off work, but Silco said he needed to discuss some things with me about The Last Drip.”
He clicks his tongue sadly. “I’m sorry love. It’s nothing but business for the boss, and we’re the cogs in his grand machine.”
“I don’t mind, actually.”
He raises his eyebrows. “You good with the grind, are ya?”
“Oh, I totally live to grind. Plus he’s paying me overtime, so, you know. I’m actually the one stickin’ it to the man.”
You raise a fist, and as he laughs.
You feel a brief stab of guilt.
You didn’t realize how difficult it would be to keep your and Silco’s relationship secret. Conjuring up lies and half truths is complicated work, especially when you have to tell them to your friends.
You lower your hand to fidget with the strap of your bag, the weight of the hidden handgun suddenly obvious. “I also have a few things I have to finish from my new daily task list, so it works out that I had to come. I was going to drop my stuff off upstairs before going on a food run. You want anything?”
“Well now, that depends on where you’re headed.”
“I was thinking that Indian fusion place around the corner.”
He snaps. “The one with the masala fries?”
“Yes! I’m absolutely obsessed.”
“You can sign me up for some of those any day.”
“For sure. Actually, I should probably just order online and save myself a lot of trouble,” You pull out your phone. “Do you think it’s possible to bribe my way into the hearts and minds of the Last Drop crew? You know, just so we’re super chill and cool with each other now, and maybe forever.”
Cal lowers his voice in a conspiratorial manner. “You didn’t hear it from me, but I have it on good authority that samosas will buy your way directly into Talia’s ice hardened heart.”
“They will, as a matter of fact.”
Talia appears as if summoned out of the back room by the very word “ samosa ”. Her dark, slick hair has been cut into a bob since you last saw her, making her already aristocratic features look more haughty.
“So long as it comes with a side of that yogurt sauce.”
You nod vigorously. “Alright, sounds good.”
“Damn,” She says, coming forward to drape an elbow on the bar next to Cal. “You weren’t jokin’ about that bribe, were ya?”
You blink at her in surprise, then at Cal.
“Nothin’s sacred at The Last Drop,” He says wisely.
“Yeah,” Talia adds. “The acoustics in here are shite when it’s crowded, but when there’s only two loud mouths havin’ a very public conversation in the middle of the room, I can hear every word you say. Even when I’m in the loo.”
“Especially when you’re in the loo.” Cal nods.
“Yeah. That place is like a funnel for secrets.”
“Duly noted,” You reply, alarmed (and slightly horrified). “I’ll be sure never to share a secret in this room ever again.”
“Yeah, good luck with that.”
You look back down at the growing list of food items with a shake of your head. “Okay. Well, um. Is Haim here? Or any of the other bouncers? I figure we might as well buy for everyone.”
Talia throws her head back and shouts, “Oi! Meatheads!”, sending you as close to astral projection as is possible for a non-magical human being.
Haim and the other bouncer appear from a backroom, along with the porcupine haired boy who let you in.
“We’re getting grub from Oshra Va’Zaun. We need your orders.”
Rather than try to organize the chaos these words create, you pass around your phone and let The Last Drop crew order for themselves. It’s fascinating to watch them interact.
Haim and the other bouncer, Paul, have some running, private joke about lamb chops. Porcupine haired boy, Heath, shoots furtive glances at Cal out of the corner of his eye and lights up whenever he gets any kind of positive attention (And because it’s Cal, it happens a lot). Talia is clearly a mother bear type, but in a cool, edgy sort of way.
As the phone makes it’s way around, they fall into private conversation (and you feel free to eavesdrop).
Haim bumps Paul’s shoulder. “Hey, did you hear Piltie Station got a new Sheriff?”
“Yeah, I saw her last night. She’s a real looker.”
”Fifty bucks says she won’t make it a week with the preppies.”
”I’ll take that bet. I hear she’s the best, a crack shot. She was trained by Marcus’ sergeant.”
“And what about that new PI she brought with ‘er?” Talia asks casually, as she types in her order.
Haim sneers. “Oh yeah, she looks like a sewer rat, no mistake. The boss might have his hands full reining that one in.”
“Better him than us.” Paul grins.
“I’ll drink to that.” Talia says before handing you back your phone.
“Okay. Cool. I’ll just put in the order and be on my way...”
“Hang on gents,” Talia raises her hand. “We aren’t going to leave the lady to pay for our disgusting appetites all on her own, are we?”
“It’s fine, really,” You balk. “I don't mind. I mean I’m the one who offered to get you guys food in the first place.”
Talia scoffs. “I know how much these idiots eat, and you can’t afford it.”
“You don’t have to–”
“Well we’re going to,” She says viciously, and holds out her hand. “Phone. Now.”
Cal gives you a look that says you shouldn’t bother arguing, and because she scares you a little bit, you don’t. The truth is you aren’t used to anyone offering to help pay. You’ve always fronted the bill for everyone during Last Drip meetings.
She types for a long time before handing it back. “Keep the receipt and send it in the group chat I just created.”
“Okay.”
“Heath, you’ll go for pick-up.”
“Word,” Porcupine haired boy scratches at his soul patch with heavily ringed knuckles. “What’s pickup time?”
“I’ll let you know in a second.” You say, and scramble to add Silco’s order before putting in your credit card number.
You try to imagine what on earth he would want to eat, and add your best guess with your fingers crossed. He strikes you as a picky eater, but there’s nothing you can do about that right now.
“It’ll be ready in 45 minutes,” You say, and after looking at the time make a face. “Well I should probably head upstairs now. I don’t want to keep the boss waiting.”
“Yeah, you should never keep the boss waiting,” Paul grunts. “I remember this one time last year, Celine got ripped a new one…”
As the large man launches into his story with unusual animation, you catch Cal’s eye.
“I’ll text when I get a notification that the food’s ready.”
He salutes. “Right-o.”
By the time you make it to Silco’s office your eyes have become very well accustomed to the gloomy interior of The Last Drop. When you push open the door, you’re greeted by the sound of several tinny, complaining voices talking at once, and the warm, heady scent of cloves. Your eyes are drawn automatically towards Silco’s desk, which is bathed in a singular pool of murky green light. Silco sits in his chair, cigar hanging languidly between two fingers.
His eyes flicker upward when the door closes, face half lit by the computer screen, and half by the warmth of a yellow bulb desk lamp. The peeved expression twitches slightly when you smile and wave, but beyond that he remains implacably stoic.
You pad softly over to the sofa and settle your things before shedding your coat. There’s the deep indentation in the left cushion that makes it difficult to sit in, so instead you make your home on the side closest to Silco. You kick off your shoes and sit with your back against the armrest, facing away from the window, so you can utilize the natural light. After popping in your headphones to drown out the voices (and your growing hunger), you settle in to work on your managerial tasks.
In your mind, the more work you get done before Silco’s meeting ends, the more stress-free, quality (work) time you'll get to spend with him.
Every ten minutes or so you stop to stretch and drink one of your two fluids, as well as check on Silco. Each covert look confirms his attention is unwavering on the screen, though his features are composed into a perfect mask of boredom. The only thing that changes with every peek is his cigar, which grows steadily shorter.
After forty five minutes you’ve checked off every single item on your list, and consumed every ounce of water and coffee in the vicinity. You feel supercharged, and a little lightheaded on account of having so much caffeine without food. Removing your earphones confirms that Silco is still in his meeting, though how it’s going is obvious by the fact that his cigar has been replaced by a glass of something alcoholic.
You slip out as quietly as you can to use the restroom, and on your way back get a notification about the food. You text the group chat, then slip back into the office, fantasizing about your upcoming lunch of chicken tikka masala french fries.
Silence greets you as you re-enter the office, clueing you in that Silco’s meeting has concluded. The second indicator is that his head is resting back against the cushion, his good eye closed with a rare expression of complete exhaustion.
You approach his side of the desk, skirting between a coat rack and an overflowing trash can as he sighs, “I apologize for the delay. The meeting wasn’t supposed to occur until this evening, but several of the board members’ schedules changed unexpectedly.”
“It’s alright, I had plenty to keep me occupied.”
He stands and shrugs out of his coat with one swift motion. After hooking it on the rack, he loosens his tie and runs his fingers roughly through his hair.
It should be mortifying, how much you enjoy watching him do that.
“What?”
You bite your lip. “Well, I guess I was wondering if I could… that is, would it be alright if I said hello?”
His mouth twitches. “That is customary in most societies.”
“I meant with a… a kiss.”
“Is that a trick question?”
The way he grabs your hips and tugs you into his chest makes you blush all over.
“I guess I just thought, because of the cameras…”
“It's not a live feed, and I am the only one who can grant access to the footage.”
“Oh. Nice,” You fiddle with the loose end of his tie. “So that’s a yes to the kiss then? I mean, I just want to be absolutely clear on that point before I, you know...”
His eyes glitter, both ice and fire. “Do you talk because I make you nervous, or do you simply enjoy playing coy?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It varies from moment to moment.”
He carries the ghost of a smile, along with the heady, warm scent of his cologne, as his head tips forward. “Well then. Consider the kiss my preferred form of greeting, unless specifically indicated otherwise.”
“How magnanimous.”
“It may surprise you to learn that I am altruistic at heart.”
“When it benefits you?”
“Especially then.”
Your giggles shift into sighs as his lips meet yours with hungry intent. He threads his fingers over the back of your hand, then breaks off to gently kiss your wrist. Tingles run up and down your arm as he murmurs against your skin, “Hello, darling.”
“Hi.”
“And how are you today?”
It takes an embarrassingly long time for you to find your voice. “Good, now. And you?”
“Never better.”
His gaze is so searing that you struggle not to squirm in discomfort. You wonder when you’ll ever get used to being looked at like that.
Probably never.
You shift your focus instead to his orange eye, and gently touch its black, puckered edges. “How is it feeling today?”
“It's been better. I meant to administer the next dose an hour ago, but the meeting pushed it back.”
“Well you should probably get on that. We don’t want a repeat of the coffee shop debacle.”
"I don’t know, everything seemed to turn out rather well, I thought.”
“You gave me a mini heart attack,” You remind him with a tap to the chest.
He captures that hand, too.
“Then I begged for your forgiveness," He murmurs with a kiss on your knuckles.
"Funny, I don't remember that part."
"Don't you? Well, perhaps you need me to refresh your memory."
You feel suddenly breathless, unable to do more than nod in reply.
He dips his head with a sly smile, his tongue flickering out briefly to tease open your lips. It sends a fever raging through your mind.
"Does that bring anything back for you?"
"I don't know I... I can't remember anything now."
You mean it sincerely, but he laughs, giving you one last long kiss before releasing you to head over to his desk. Your legs are wobbly in the wake of his absence, and you lean against the desk for support.
Silco doesn't seem to notice as he drops into his chair, and pulls open one of the lower drawers to remove the infamous case. He then spins and holds it towards you with a languid hand.
You wave him away, brain feeling a little scrambled. “Oh, no. I told you I didn’t want to do that again and I meant it.”
He gazes at you steadily, hand still outstretched. “I need your help.”
“No you don’t.”
“I’d like you to feel more comfortable with this procedure, as it is a regularly occurring event in my life.”
The logic is irrefutable (and annoying). “But I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Practice makes perfect, and you didn’t hurt me before so it stands to reason that you won’t now. Now please, time is ticking."
It’s his small wince that makes you push your reticence aside and take the case. You remove the copper pieces and rotate them in your hands, wracking your brain for how they fit together. Silco remains silent, which is even more unhelpful for your critical thinking skills.
When you’ve at last fumbled the vial into place and locked the pieces, he says, “Good,” and leans his head back. “Now you’ll need to apply even pressure around the eye, to ensure the needle goes in cleanly.”
“I hate the way you said that,” you groan, hovering as you figure out the best way to begin. “Um… maybe, if I could just….”
You scoot forward, practically straddling his legs so you can put a stabilizing hand against his cheek. You prepare to inject, then draw back suddenly with a small gasp. “Wait, I forgot to lock the door!”
“Don’t worry about the door.”
“But Heath —”
“Will not enter unless given express permission.”
You aren’t entirely convinced, but Silco's confidence is going to have to be enough, for now. You grasp the syringe tightly and make your second approach. A few strings of peppered hair have fallen forward and you unconsciously sweep them back, running your fingers through his hair to lock them in place.
“Are you comfortable?” You ask nervously.
“Perfectly.”
“Okay, that’s good.”
You bite your lip and with a quick breath set the apparatus in place. It’s easier to pull the trigger this time around because you don’t give yourself more than a second to think after giving him a warning.
Though it’s no less gut wrenching when he stiffens, face contorting in pain as he slumps backward with a gasp.
Your insides twist with every violent rise and fall of his chest.
“There,” He pants after several long seconds, “That wasn’t so bad now… was it?”
"Watching you suffer while I can do nothing about it?" You wipe away a faint trail of purple on his cheek with a shaking hand. “Yeah, piece of cake.”
“I promise your… presence… is solace enough for me.”
“Just solace enough?”
“There are worse ways to prepare for being stabbed in the eye than having my face caressed by a beautiful woman.”
You laugh, weakly, and set aside the syringe. “How romantic. You should start writing poetry.”
He releases a huff. “I fear the attempt would… reflect poorly on us both. I wouldn’t wish to drive you away with tasteless comparisons of how our love is… satisfying as a perfectly balanced ledger.”
You release a snort and a giggle, and when he turns his head towards you with a tired smile it feels perfectly natural to kiss the corner of his upturned lips. He seems discontent with your aim, however, and holds you in place with a hand at your elbow until you offer him another.
You release a sound of happiness, then worry when there’s a knock on the door.
“Heath!” You pull back with a gasp.
“There’s no need for alarm. We’re perfectly safe.”
“Safe,” You say, flustered. “It doesn’t feel very safe. I – oh!”
You'd forgotten about the trash can. Your foot has tangled with it in a bad way, and in an attempt to compensate for your wild backward motion, you twist. What happens next is a bit of a blur.
A sharp, glancing pain in your hip; A cry; Silco, on his feet in a flash; The splash and thump of objects falling to the floor as his hands suddenly find your waist. But the laws of physics being what they are, his violent grab sends you careening into his chest with equal force. Yet even as he tumbles backward, you feel one hand at your cheek, tucking your head firmly into his shoulder.
You experience another surge of panic as you tumble with him into the chair, and it slides back several feet. Silco's quick to compensate, hauling your legs off the floor with surprising strength. You squeak as you end up curled in his lap, your right arm snatching at his neck. You hold on for dear life until you're sure that the floor is no longer moving beneath you.
Then you're too stunned to do anything other than stare at your knees for several long seconds, wondering what just happened.
"Are you alright?" He asks harshly.
You stare bleakly at the mess of papers, books, and folders that have cascaded to the floor. "Yeah I... I'm so sorry about your desk. I'll clean it up --"
"I don't care about the desk," He says sharply. "I'm asking if you're hurt."
"Yeah, no I'm fine."
"Are you absolutely certain?"
You nod, heart still beating fast. "Yeah. I'll be nursing a sore hip and a bruised ego in the morning, but besides that I... I'm okay."
He doesn't seem convinced. At least, that's what his body language is telling you. He still has you in a secure, protective hold against his chest. You can feel every deep, steady breath he releases against your rib cage, along with his racing heart.
"I'm alright Silco, honest. I'm not hurt."
You wince at the throb at your side and unfold your legs to drop them over the arm rest.
"But just to be sure, don't let go yet. I think I might... slide off your lap to join the papers on the floor."
"Stay as long as you need."
It's his calm, even breathing that regulates your nervous system. Eventually the tension bleeds from your shoulders, and your arm relaxes it's grip on his neck. You find yourself melting against his body until your head rests comfortably against his right shoulder. You're vaguely aware of your heart beats synchronizing, and though you can hardly move because of the hold he has on you, you don't feel like he's restraining so much as protecting you.
"I’ve always known ours is a magnetic attraction," He says softly, stirring the small hairs at your temple. "but this might have been going too far with the comparison."
"I don't know, I think it's nice."
You allow yourself one deep breath before lifting your head to smile at him.
The expression on his face completely disarms you. A smile plays softly on his lips, and in his eyes is such an unfettered expression of affection that you feel your insides melting. After several heart beats his smile drops, and the pupil of his orange eye widens. His blue eye softens as he looks between your eyes then down to your mouth.
Your pulse ratchets up a few notches as his left hand rises to gently caress your cheek.
“Well I should... we should probably get to work," You whisper.
Or we’ll get caught. You think. Then, but do I really care about that?
“If I fail to answer the door after the third knock, my men will try again in fifteen minutes.”
His thumb traces along your jaw like a question, and it sends an electric jolt that lights up every nerve in your body.
You flounder for a moment as your mouth goes dry. “But... I’m in here, and um... everyone in the building knows. That would be suspicious. Right?”
"That's right."
Your heart’s beating madly out of your chest as his thumb tilts your chin higher.
Your last brain cell attempts to produce even one shred of coherent thought as he draws closer.
“I mean I honestly couldn’t care less, except... well you’re the one who’s been so worried about… about the board. And being, you know… discovered...”
“Yes," He murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth that sends a shiver down your spine. "That would be... problematic."
Yet the only problem he seems interested in solving is how to drive away your last brain cell. It's not that difficult to do, as his next kiss has you going from not thinking straight, to not thinking at all.
His lips melt against yours, and you close your eyes as he deepens the kiss. Your worries about discovery disappear beneath his heat, and the taste of scented smoke on his tongue.
He pulls away only after Heath knocks yet again, pressing his forehead against yours with a resigned sigh.
"Enough," He says, and you have to wonder who he's talking to since you'd lost the will for wisdom long ago. "We should clean up. That should give us a moment to... compose ourselves before I let him in."
As if that will be a simple task.
Yet you nod anyway, and move with robotic movements to do as he suggests.
Disappointment settles like lead in your bones when, as you swing your legs over the arm rest to stand, he doesn’t stop you. However his hands do twitch, briefly, and it's enough consolation as you set about collecting the papers from the floor. Silco joins you, and you work side by side in silence until everything is back on the desk.
Heath's final knock sends you across the room to drop heavily onto the sofa. There's no way to arrange yourself in a way that's believably nonchalant, so you pull out a book and bury your face behind it before Silco says, “Enter”.
You raise your head as Heath drops the heavily laden plastic bag on the coffee table with a flourish. “For the lady.”
“Thanks."
He folds his hands as if in prayer before opening them wide. “Bon appetit.”
He lopes out, and you busy yourself with setting out the dishes.
You try to infuse some evenness into your tone as you say, “I had no idea what you wanted, so I made my best guess. I hope you like curry.”
“I do.”
His footsteps are muffled as he joins you, though he settles rather gingerly on the opposite side of the couch.
You find it incredibly annoying that he appears completely unaffected by the last few minutes, whereas your head's still spinning, and your heart’s thundering.
It isn't fair.
He'd just about undone you, and he doesn't look fazed, not even a little bit.
You can't even look at him as you hand him a carton, then dig into your generous serving of curry fries. The impending silence, however, is almost enough to ruin your appetite. You cast around for something, anything to say that will dispel the awkward silence and bring things back to normality.
That’s when the gramophone suddenly jumps into view.
“Does that work?”
He clears his throat. “It’s missing a part, unfortunately. It’s a simple piece, but I haven’t had the time to send it out for repairs.”
“That’s a shame. Where would you even do that in Zaun?”
“Commercia Fantastica. I know the owner well. It’s about time I gave him the call, but I’m going out of town tonight.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“For a few days, most likely, but I will be back in town by the weekend. Jinx made me swear to it.”
“Good. You shouldn’t be working on your birthday.”
“How did you — " He stops. “Jinx, of course.”
“Yes, Jinx,” You turn sideways to curl your legs under. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me, by the way.”
“I would have informed you when it was relevant.”
“Of course. Probably around the same time it'll need to be inscribed on your tombstone."
He gives you a look, and you force a grin.
“So what music would you play on your gramophone, if you could?”
“I prefer classical arias, and operas.”
“But you’d never pick something like AC/DC?”
“I don’t go for much classic rock.”
“But what about punk rock? Or alternative? Are you a Ramones guy? Or maybe Joy Division?”
“Impressive deductions, though perhaps those weren’t random guesses. You may have perused my record collection the day you broke into my office.”
“They were guesses, actually. And I didn’t break into your office if you recall, I was defending it.”
“Against Charles Rodriguez.”
“Yes, and I still think he was being fishy.”
He sighs, “Please, not this again.”
“But think about it,” You press. “I mean, what if he came in here trying to find information on the reports Marcus has been sending you about his investigation?”
“He knows I would never keep such things lying around.”
“Yeah well, he’s not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed.”
He snorts.
“But seriously. He seems like the type who wouldn’t mind poisoning some kids for quick cash.”
“As you have just recalled, I have Marcus looking into the matter.”
You play with your food. “I guess I’m just worried about what Ekko will do if this investigation keeps going without any results. He seems to be getting desperate.”
“All will be revealed, in time. Of that you can be sure.”
“Oh I know. You’re really stubborn when you want something.”
He hems, “Some say I'm stubborn to a fault, and yet I thought I showed an admirable capacity for restraint just now.”
You scoff. “Restraint? Please. If I hadn’t put my foot down —”
“I think you mean your ass.”
You stare at him, mouth open in a soundless “O”.
He laughs, and it’s such an unusually sincere, unfettered sound that you can’t help joining in.
“That felt like a close call though, seriously,” You say with a final giggle.
“Yes,” He smiles, revealing that glorious little gap. “Perhaps from now on, we shouldn't confuse work for pleasure.”
Zing.
You fish around in your half eaten carton. "Yeah."
He shakes his head as if to clear it, then rises to his feet. “We’d best get to work before any other distractions arise.”
“I guess I’ll keep my ass on the sofa then.”
You stuff your face with fries as his throaty laugh fills the room, bringing you immense satisfaction.