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“This is yer fault.” Betty was glaring at Deal from underneath a curtain of drenched hair. Even in the half-light of the neon signs, he could see that she was shivering.
“Sorry.” He said, standing stock still, arms hanging at his sides.
“T-That bar had a fireplace. We could be c-curled up in there schmoozing and eating appetizers.” She was struggling to keep her teeth from chattering.
“I know,” said Deal.
“But no, but no, here we are.” She threw her arms up dramatically. “Waiting for the fucking bus. ” She immediately re-crossed her arms and hunched her shoulders to ward off the cold.
“I’m sorry,” said Deal.
“And why?” she asked rhetorically, and then answered herself in a demeaning impression of her companion. “Because tomorrow’s an important day, Betty, and you’ll drink yourself under the table if I don’t stop you, because I’m a total stick in the mud.”
“You’re drunk enough already. Besides, tomorrow is an important day. You’re meeting the TinTek clients, remember? We need you to make a good impression. People are counting on you.”
“Oh, fuck that. Every day is important. If we let that get in the way of things, we’ll never be able to cut loose. We’ll be like Jill and never do anything but work.”
“Normally I’d agree, but your definition of ‘cutting loose’ tends to be harmful. And not just to yourself.”
Betty glared at him again, wound up, and kicked him half-heartedly in the shin. He barely budged.
“Fuckin Lilim. Fuckin’ piece o’ scrap.”
“See? This is what I’m talking about. You get violent when you’ve had too much to drink.” He shook his head in disappointment.
“I get violent when I get dragged out into the streets for no reason when it’s pissing rain. I’m fucking freezing.”
“You can borrow my coat. I don’t need to stay warm.”
“Thanks,” she mumbled, and let him wrap it around atop her other layers.
“Do you want my scarf too?” She nodded, and he began carefully winding it around her neck, wrapping it up to her nose. He was left standing in his usual work garb: a tie, waistcoat, and unbranded white shirt. Without the scarf, the flexible metallic sections of his neck were bare. The way that he stood without any sign of a hunch against the cold, without any tension from the chill, made him seem even more otherworldly. He was always robotic, but at times like this especially so.
“You really gotta be this nice?” Betty slurred accusingly.
“Sorry,” said Deal, and winced as she stomped a foot in annoyance.
“Don’t gimmie that shit. We shoulda stayed at the party.”
“If we stayed at the party, we would have ended up here anyways. You just wouldn’t be able to stand.”
She growled in annoyance. Deal stared down the street through curtains of rain, the lenses in his eyes readjusting, and nodded in satisfaction.
“Bus is here.”
They boarded the bus, a monolith of a vehicle driven on a complex overhead rail system. Inside, Betty stripped off the coat and handed it back to Deal without a word of thanks, then sat down and started to warm her hands on one of the radiators. The windows were fogged, and the city lights were a neon blur. The vehicle was autonomous, so there was not even a driver to add to their company. They rode in silence, watching the concrete buildings scroll by. Deal started humming to himself, in a pitch-perfect vocal modulation. If Betty noticed, she didn’t make any indication of it. She rung her hair out over the radiator.
“Hey, piece-o’-scrap.”
“Yes?”
“Wasn’t that just your stop?”
“Yes, it was.”
“Why the hell didn’t you hit the button then? You think I’m taking you home or something?”
Deal sighed.
“You’re drunk. I’m going to make sure you get home in one piece and then I’ll take the next bus home.” He patted her on the shoulder, and endured her glare.
“Think I need help getting home?”
“I’d rather play it safe.”
“Well get some fucking sleep then! Don’t try to guilt trip me by putting yourself out for my sake.”
“Oh for heaven’s… Betty, the streets are dangerous, it’s cold, and you’ve had too much to drink. Besides, I don’t even need to sleep.“
“Well I know! I just don’t want…” She made vague, exasperated gestures with her hands, and then dropped them to her sides. When she spoke again, she did so in a mumble. “I still got your charging kit. You can spend the night if that’s easier...” Deal considered this.
“It would make things easier,” he said slowly. “We need to be in the same place tomorrow anyways.”
“Good. Then that’s what we’re doing.” Betty gave an exaggerated nod, and slammed on the stop button.
“Not our stop yet,” Deal pointed out.
“Shit,” she remarked.
Betty fumbled with both of her expensive biometric locks until they finally recognized her, and shuffled into her expansive apartment, rubbing her hands against the cold. Deal filed in behind her. Once inside, he stopped and bowed. A sign of gratitude for being invited into a private dwelling. She shot him an annoyed glare.
“None of that. Stand up.”
“I’m sorry.”
“None of that either!” She held up a finger threateningly, and stumbled backwards towards her room. “I’m gonna get changed. I’m fuckin freezing.”
Deal nodded, and stood dripping awkwardly in the vestibule as Betty rummaged around in her room. He decided to take off his soaked coat and hang it on the rack, where it poured a steady stream of rainwater onto a shoe mat. He could hear the muffled sounds of a struggle in Betty’s room. Then the sounds stopped, and he heard a very pathetic call for help.
Cautiously, he approached the door and pushed it open, to see Betty, half undressed, sprawled out on the floor, wrestling with a pair of pyjama pants.
“Did you ask for help?” he asked nervously, trying to read her for any indication that she might get angry.
“Mhmmm,” she replied, “pants are hard.”
He managed to make her cooperate long enough enough to get her decently clothed in a pair of pyjama pants and a surprisingly ugly woolly sweater that she had picked out. The process involved a great deal of patience and an above average amount of indecent exposure. Deal was forced to learn how bra clips work. When finished, he helped her to her feet, and she thanked him by elbowing him in the side and slurring something about keeping his hands to himself. She shivered convulsively, and then looked at him with rapidly widening eyes.
“Hang on, yer fuckin’ soaked! Dripping everywhere!” She gave him a small shove. “Stop it!”
“Sorry! I wasn’t sure if I should stay by the door.”
“You should have!” She shooed him through a narrow doorway on the opposite side of her room, and flicked a light switch. He found himself in the ensuite bathroom, and was quickly backed up into the shower.
Betty staggered away, and Deal, too nervous to move, waited for her to return. When she did, she was wielding a strange looking appliance with a large red tube affixed to one end. She bent down to plug it in. Deal swallowed.
“Is that a…”
“Vibrator? Nah, s’ a heat gun. Now...” she brandished it, and hit the trigger for a split second. Deal flinched when it whirred to life; it sounded like a wood chipper. “We’re gonna dry you off, piece-o’-scrap. Probably works better if you get naked.”
“I would prefer not to.”
“Suit yerself.” Betty shrugged, and let loose on Deal with the heat gun. It was an industrial appliance, and why Betty had it was a mystery to Deal, but it did the job. He forced himself to stand straight and let her blast him with air so hot it felt like it would melt the plastics in his face. She signaled him to turn around, and Deal obliged, letting her roast him from behind as well. When she was done, the bathroom was several degrees warmer, and Deal felt comfortably dry, and uncomfortably overheated. An annoyed thumping from above them signaled that the sound of industrial appliances wasn’t appreciated in the middle of the night.
“SORRY!” Betty shouted in response, and then sneezed and shivered convulsively. Deal winced.
“You’re still cold?” He asked, concerned.
“Yeah.” She said, and sniffed loudly. “Freezing.” Then she seemed to have an epiphany. She continued, in a more deliberate tone. “You, though...” She looked him directly in the eye. Deal panicked; she was in one of her unreadable moods. “You’re warm.” she said, almost accusingly. She stumbled towards him and wrapped her arms around him, pinning his own arms to his sides. He stood stock still, wearing the expression of a deer in the headlights. They stood awkwardly for a few seconds.
“I’m warm.” He reiterated, as if coming to the realization entirely on his own.
“Hug me back, asshole.” she said.
He half-heartedly rose his arms at the elbow and gave her three gentle pats on the back. That didn’t seem to suffice. Instead she pushed him away, and then dragged him by the hand back into her bedroom. He mutely followed her lead, and found himself lying on the bed while she sorted out the comforter enough to spread it over him. Then she crawled in next to him, and wrapped herself around him drunkenly. She was still tense and shivering.
“You’re warm.” She reiterated.
“Betty…”
“Shh.”
“Okay. Sorry.” he mumbled. Her eyes shot open.
“No. No sorry. What were you gonna say?”
“You’re being really clingy.”
“So? I can stop any time I want to. I don’t need you.” To prove her point, she disengaged from Deal and shuffled backwards until she was arm’s length away from him. He eyed her carefully, again trying to get a read on her. The first thing that he noticed was that she immediately started to shiver again. He shook his head in disbelief.
“Okay” he said, and then dragged her back in. “We can stop when you warm up.”
“Whatever.” She said, voice muffled with her face pressed into Deal’s chest. “I’m helping you, you know?”
“You’re helping me?” he asked, puzzled. Betty craned her neck to look Deal in the eye.
“When HR lady comes and takes you out on dates and you don’t have time for me any more you’ll remember this,” she said.
“Are you talking about our coworker Laura?”
“Yeah, HR lady.” Betty nodded. “She’s gonna be all over you, trust me. And you’ll thank me for teaching yer robot ass how to get intimate.”
“Stop,” he said.
“Showed ya, I can stop whenever I want to.”
“No. Stop saying things like that. I don’t know if I’m interested in her. I’ve never been in a relationship. And I’m not going to stop spending time with you even if I start spending time with her. Besides…”
“Besides what?”
“I’m not your pile-o-scrap or whatever you keep calling me. I’m a person.” Deal held himself still. Now was the part he was worst at. He couldn’t get a read on Betty when she was drunk or emotional. And now, after hearing that, he was sure she would be even more unpredictable. He stared at her, hoping for something, some facial tick or bit of body language that his sensory subroutines were programmed to recognize.
She pulled away slowly. Deal watched her carefully, and then flinched when she shifted suddenly. It took a second for this to register for Betty.
“Did you think I was going to hit you?” She asked in surprise.
“Yes.” Deal answered honestly, and noticed that Betty finally wore a look that he could recognize. It was realization, intermingled with some shock. “I’m sorry” he said, “you do it a lot.”
“I… do?” She asked.
“Mostly when you’re drunk” Deal amended quickly. “And you never hit hard.”
Betty rested on her side and stared wide-eyed at Deal.
“I do.” This time it was a statement. Her face cycled through a variety of expressions that Deal wasn’t equipped to read. Then, for reasons unknown to him, she started to cry.
“I’m sorry,” he reiterated. She was shivering more now, so he pulled her in closer and held her. This made her cry harder, but she returned his embrace, so he didn’t stop.
Eventually Betty fell asleep, at which point Deal carefully disentangled himself from her outstretched limbs to go looking for his charging hardware. He found it in her linen closet, and set it up next to the bed.
The night passed slowly. Deal lay against the headboard of Betty’s sizable mattress and read a book by infrared. An hour or two passed before Betty stirred herself awake and sat up, looking confused. Deal clicked on the lamp on her bedside table, and watched her try to blink the sleep out of her eyes.
“Gah, what time is it?” She murmured.
“Three in the morning.” Deal said. “Here, drink this.” He handed her a glass.
“What is it?” Betty started drinking before he could answer.
“It’s just water.”
She drained the glass, and stretched over him to set it on the bedside table, and click off the light. Deal let his eyes slip back into the infrared spectrum, and watched her fumble around with the comforter before laying down almost directly on top of him. She worked him into a loose embrace around the middle before going motionless. In less than a minute, she was sound asleep again. He looked down at her with some amusement before returning to his book.
Betty awoke with an uncommonly benign hangover. A plate with toast and some kind of cubic egg substitute was thrust in her face by a chipper-looking Deal.
“Eat up. We have an appointment with Leo in an hour, and we’re meeting the TinTek clients this afternoon.”
She groaned, but accepted the plate and began forcing herself to eat.
“Your clothes are on the dresser. I washed and dried them while you were sleeping.” He turned to leave the room.
“Hey, piece...” Betty began hoarsely, and then cleared her throat and continued. “Hey Deal?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks.”
“Of course.” He flashed her an appreciative smile and started towards the door again.
“No, not for breakfast. Well, I guess for breakfast too. I mean, thanks for everything. Getting me home, putting up with my shit, spending the night.” She gestured vaguely. “I really… appreciate it.”
This time Deal gave her a genuine smile. One that was more analytical than mirthful. It was much more in character; she knew that gears were turning in his head.
“You are most welcome.” He replied, and then bowed and left the room.
Betty ate and got ready in a hurry. After all, today was an important day. People were counting on her.