Chapter Text
Nima's leaning back against a wall, just outside the Lodge. Calm, quiet, and - fuck, Cora and Sona are bursting through the doors and ruining her precious personal time with their RC drone. That's what she called smoking, at least. Calling it "Mommy's personal time" made Constellation give her a sidelong glance and a chuckle, and made it easier for her to slip out of the room. Sarah joined her sometimes, quietly coming up to her outside, looking at the cigarette dangling between Nima's lips, a halo of black lipstick smeared on the paper, looking up at Nima in those dark coffee eyes, before Nima would kindly hand her the cigarette and let her take a few huffs, before Sarah would leave just like she came. On other occasions, Sam was the one joining her and Vladimir, when Vladimir came down from the Eye. A beer, a cig, and good company under the starry night sky of Jemison.
"I just... don't like how she calls 'em," Sam ponders out loud about Sarah and her way of calling cigarettes, a plume of smoke leaving his lips.
"Fags?" Vladimir says point blank.
A long silence from them both, Nima holding back a snicker. "Yeah," Sam nods.
"Hey, kids, go a little further, will you?" Nima calls out to Cora and Sona, waving at them to go further back into the small backyard the Lodge has - she doesn't want them to inhale the tar that she's shoving down her lungs.
"Sorry!" Sona cries out, still looking up at the sky, where the drone is now flying, hovering towards MAST. They both go closer to the edge, further away from Nima.
"I'm surprised you only smoke that. Thought someone like you would like... the harder stuff," Sam says, sitting next to her in the cockpit. It's late at night somewhere, but they're in space - it's day, night, and noon all at the same time. But Cora's fast asleep in her bunk, and Andreja too.
"Eh, I did a few wild things when I was still a college student," she leans back in her seat, a little smirk on her face. Well, that's how she smiles, but it always comes off as a smirk on her, her brow raising the tiniest bit, one corner of the lip more upturned than the other, and her arms are crossed over her chest.
"Yeah? Did some uh, things too, when I was a hauler. My mind's just a black hole when I try to remember what I was up to around that time, but I fairly remember letting some gal snort something off my ass at some point."
"I remember snorting something off a twink's ass at some point," she blurts out.
There's a long, silent pause. She stares up at him, he stares down at her, their faces impassive, time stretching on.
"I'm going to bed," Sam only says, and disappears.
"I'm just saying, I killed him once, and you know what happened?" Nima argues with Walter on the way out to Neon's spaceport, about Slayton. "Like, in another universe."
"What happened, then?" Walter huffs, giving in.
"Nothing. Nothing happened, and hell, it made Slayton stocks cheaper for a bit. I bought a buggy with the money I made." She says, pressing the button to call the elevator.
"Fine, if I wasn't directly involved or seen with you at any point, then maybe, and it's a tiny maybe, I would've let you..." He pretends to slit his throat. "Get rid of him."
"Really?" She looks up at him, maybe a touch too happy.
"No, not really!" he has half a mind to smack her up the head, and tell her ‘Bad Starborn, bad!'.
"So ... Lillian." Nima slides across the bar countertop in the Lodge, sitting next to Sam, a bit too close for comfort.
"What about her?" He sighs out.
"She's single, right?"
"Nima, I cannot stress this enough. Do not fuck my ex."
"It's not like you're not fucking her," he glares. "Okay, fine, fine," she puts her hands up, sliding away, rolling her eyes as if he was the one in the wrong here.
"It's either that or cocaine." She shrugs, when Barrett asks her why she's smoking. "I'm kidding. But... a girl has to have her vices, you know? And with all the shit I've done and seen, I think I deserve a little death stick."
Barrett just nods, he's not about to argue with a lady with a glare so sharp she saved his ass from Matsuda just by staring him down. No words, just a stare, a crossing of the arms while shifting her weight on one leg. That told Barrett two things - that Nima wasn't one to be argued with, and that scary women were hot.
"You told me you didn't have a good reason to quit yet, the other day." Barrett starts.
"Something like that, yes."
"You also said it's because I used to make you food."
She nods again, her impeccable hair swaying slightly, her features glowing slightly as she breathes in another huff of her cigarette.
"What do you like to eat?"
That gets her to stub out her cigarette.
"I like pastilla. And makrout." Dishes he's never heard of before, but for her, he's willing to try. Did she give the same answers to Barrett #12 and Barrett #36? Did she give them other dishes, did they even ask her that?
"So...." Cora speaks up at lunch one day, moving around the untouched vegetables in her plate, delaying the inevitable. "Are you and Barrett going to get married one day?"
"You have wedding money?" Nima cuts down the awkward conversation before it can even start.
"... no," Cora replies, pretending to be sweet and innocent. "But you like him, don't you?"
"You've never even thought about it?" Barrett raises a brow, when it's just him and Nima and they're both chuckling about Cora's earlier question, and they're washing the dishes together - they're out of dishwasher pods, and it's just four plates to clean up.
She shrugs, bright yellow rubber gloves up to her elbows and sponge in hand. "Not really, no. I was mostly focusing on making sure you stayed alive, until like, three weeks ago."
"Are you thinking about it now?"
"Do you want me to?"
It's his turn to shrug.
"I mean... eh, with you and Erwin, I just thought that it'd be awkward to bring up." She sighs out eventually.
"But this isn't about me and Erwin, it's about you and me." He points out.
"Hey, if this is just about getting me a really nice ring, I've never been opposed to that," she teases gently, that little smirk on her face reappearing.
"Without being mean, I never thought you'd be into the whole 'marriage and babies and white picket fence' thing."
"With you, it sounds nice."
"It looks weird," Sona and Cora make a tiny face, bending over to see the squirming little creature that Sam holds, the little beast that Nima made with Barrett. Sam's the only one in Constellations with the right credentials to hold the baby, especially when he's tearing up and remembering Cora being like this.
"Hey, everyone looks a bit weird after being smushed for almost a year." Nima says, still laying back in her hospital bed, looking not put together for once - a rare sight to behold, her hair mussed and tousled, her eyes not lined with kohl and her lips pink instead of black.
"Like a pickle." Sona says, a touch too serious.
"Exactly." Barrett nods, also a touch too serious.
"What's her name again?" Cora asks, poking at the baby's cheek.
"I don't know, she hasn't told us yet," "It's hard to get them to talk at that age," Barrett and Nima say in unison, not skipping a beat, and Cora huffs and crosses her arms.