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Buzz of the outside world didn't matter as the burning liquid cleansed her throat. It was yet another drink entering her system tonight, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. She stared at the empty glass longing more for the person, than the liquid itself.
"That was your last, kid." Vix's thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice, deep and caring, the only voice with the power to stop her plans.
"Oh come on, Rogue it’s for Jackie! I'm a big girl!" She turned around to glare at the Queen of the Afterlife herself.
"And I may not be your mother, but I am your fixer. You have a gig in an hour, keep it up and you will be hugging the toilet instead." Rogue leaned on the bar next to her, and took away the glass, handing it back to Claire.
Vix knew she was right. She couldn’t drown her sadness in an alcoholic representation of her dear friend. It wasn’t helping anyway, it just made her miss Jackie even more.
"Look… Vix. I know how it feels to lose a choom. But fucking up your gig because you got wasted won’t fix anything. And I bet your ass if you fuck this client you can forget about getting gigs from me, but if you're trying to bust your rep with me, go right ahead."
The girl's gaze ran away from the woman next to her. Vix knows Rogue was right, and even if her words were harsh, they were her way of saying that there were still people who cared for her. Who were worth living for.
"I'm sorry…" she muttered.
"No need. We are here for you, kid. That's why you’re gonna stay dry for the rest of the week."
"What? Claire, say something! She lost her mind!" Vix needed an ally in this situation. Making her drink less? That was fine, but a total ban? There was a party every time someone beat the odds, and when someone scored big, was she supposed to drink orange juice? Where is the fun in that?!
But Claire just put her hands up in surrender, "Sorry, choomba, Rogue is the boss, and her word is sacred."
"But…"
"No buts, unless you are talking about some good ass." Rogue gave her a smirk, and Vix just couldn't be mad at her.
"Damn, maybe I should get beaten up a bit, so I can actually look at some fine cake." She wasn't sure if she said it out loud or just thought of it.
"You really should ask that ripper out. Mostly because I'm getting tired of you constantly talking about him," the older woman scoffed.
So she had said it out loud. The heatwave instantly hit her face, drawing a chuckle from her companion. Was her interest so obvious? Or had she told Rogue at some point and just forgotten about it? Maybe Vix mentioned something here and there, and we’re talking about the queen of fixers here. Rumour said Rogue had MR eyes, so maybe she'd pierced it together from two innocent hints, a paper clip, and some duct tape. Does it even matter now?
"Get some boosters and go to the meeting point." Thankfully, Rogue changed the topic. "Oh, by the way." The older woman leaned closer, just enough to whisper to Vix's ear, "I don't care how good this ripper is, if he hurts you, I will crush his balls."
Oh shit. Of course, Vik wouldn’t even get a chance to hurt her if she didn’t ask him out, right? Right? How did it even end up like this?
"Yeah… Right… Well, off I go!" Vix jumped from the barstool. The next thing she knew was the ground hitting her in the face. The fall wasn’t painful, but spectacular — and spectacularly embarrassing. Just when she was trying to show how capable she was even after a few drinks… yeah.
At least hitting the ground got the skull sponge back into gear. The millisecs of uncertainty resulted in her brain switching to survival mode, fighting the dizziness from the alcohol. The world was snapping back into focus as the fog evaporated from her mind. She managed to get up gracefully to stand in front of Rogue, who Vix couldn't guess if she looked more shocked or impressed by what just happened as her eyebrow was raised in an unclear manner.
"Anyway, see ya later!" And with that, Vix delta’d from the crime scene of embarrassment.
To Vix's luck she didn’t fuck up the gig, and it earned her enough of a scratch to end up on Vik's table.
So now she only needed to wait for the verdict of what happened to her, as all she knew was that her arm just stopped moving, feeling, kinda existing but it was still there. And not really scratched, just in a metaphorical sense.
"Hm. Mhm. Hmmmm."
Laying on the operation chair, that was all she could hear from her ripperdoc, who was looking at the screens surrounding her.
"Mhm, hmmm hmm?" Vix pretended to use whatever language he was using.
Vik looked at her from above his glasses, definitely intrigued by her action.
"Hmmmmmmmmm…"
"Hmmm?"
"Hm."
What the hell are they even doing? She couldn't help but giggle.
"Okay, but for real, what's wrong with me today, doctor?" She put a slight whisper tone on the last word. Vik smiled at her and corrected his glasses.
"Your arm is fine, however — a netrunner fried part of your paraline, hence why you can't use it." He moved the screens and rolled over to the cabinets on the side, where he dug out a brand new box, still foiled because of course he just had one lying around.
"Wait, is that a Netwatch Netdriver Mk. 5? How did you even get your hands on it!?"
"You have your secrets, I have mine, sweetheart."
Vix's heart skipped as he called her "sweetheart". However, the reaction was strong enough to be picked up by the sensors, reacting in an alert on a higher heart rate.
Vik calmly came back to her, to check if the alert was serious. One look at it was enough to tell him what was going on, so he just raised his brow at her, as she blushed, unable to run away and hide.
In the meantime, Vik unpacked the brand-new paraline and presented it to her.
"On the house, it has enough ICE to not let some 'runner junkie' harm my best girl."
Beep.
[Heart rate increased.]
A robotic voice informed both of them, but Vix was too busy melting in her chair. First "sweetheart" now "my best girl"? He wasn't supposed to be killing her instead of helping!!!
Vik just looked at her, now more confused than ever. And Vix could only stare at him, face burning, unable to say a word.
It can't go on like that, it just can't. He was supposed to fix her! Fix! Not turn her into a fluff ball of emotions!
But Vik was giving her some expensive shit "on the house" just because it was her! What ripper did that? His best girl, her, Vix.
"Vik, I…" she started, studying the battered concrete wall until she was able to face him, "that is too much, you sure want to give it to me? I'm sure there are some 'runners who would pay a premium for it."
"Money is not everything, girl."
"Yes but…"
"No buts, I can't let you get fried by some amateurs. Who would be practicing Hmmglish with me if not you?"
With that, they both giggled, happily.
"Okay, if it means more Hmmglish lessons I can accept it."
"Attagirl!" he said, adding yet another ancient word to her expanding vocabulary.