PRIVATE Tea and cigarettes

Dr "Redeye" Sloaks

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Dr "Redeye" Sloaks
Eddies
159
The night was seldom dark. As soon as the sun set over the toxic green of the polluted skyline the lights of hundreds of electric signs shone their radiant glow upon the streets and their inhabitants. Thousands of multicoloured bodies moved in and out of reds and greens and blues in their droves. Hustling about much as they would in the day.

One such figure, wholely unremarkable in his appearance and very comfortable that way was Dr David Sloak although he was not a licensed practitioner he was as adequate as you'd be likely to find in the city on short notice. Tonight however he considered himself off duty as he picked his way across town to the Nowear Tattoo and Piercing parlour owned by one of the few citizens he would call a friend, Quennie. The last few weeks had seen him patch up more gangers and runners than he'd have liked and he needed to be somewhere that was not either his rundown clinic or his even more rundown apartment.
Somewhere he heard tires screech and sirens blare, what might have been a gunshot or a backblow from a worn exhaust shoot. He shut out the sounds of the city. Missing the calm quiet of the road and the plains. Night City was ironically named, it did not seem to have a night time. Out in the wilderness, there was night, proper and dark with the stars above. Here only high rise buildings could make out the stars and even then only a fraction of what was actually there. Once you had seen them it was hard not to miss them whenever you looked up.

He took the last few measured steps to the door and its closed sign pausing to light his next cigarette from the ends of his last one and tossed the butt into the gutter just as a taxi passed him then he made his way around to the side entrance and hammered on the door.
His coat was draped over his arm as he did when it was too hot for it. Despite the clear lack of need of it in such climes as Night City Sloak kept it with him. It was a handy place for his tools and smokes.

She was taking her time to answer the door so he raised his hand and banged on it again, trying to be louder than the roar of constant traffic.

"Queenie, open up!"

@Queenie
 
Around the corner the main entrance swung open and rattled shut again with footsteps shortly dwindling away as a stranger left the premises. Moments after that the locks of the side entrance hissed and a buzzer shortly sounded, giving Sloaks the few moments he needed to make his entry. The hallway within was dark aside from the light shone from the stairs leading to the second floor and Queenie's flat.

"Hello," sounded a whisper from a doorway that lead out to the main parlor. Queenie stepped through, closing and locking the door behind her, and swept over as she shrugged an oversize shawl upon her shoulders.

"Mi dispiace," she said as she offered her usual warm greeting of a hug and kiss to the cheek, "I was seeing out a new friend. Everything okay? You do not usually abuse my door so much."
 
He must have been troubled, only catching a glimpse of the figure who left the storefront as the passed before all but jumping into the buzzing door.

"Hi Queenie."
Getting used to Queenie's greeting was something Slaok had only ever imagined but it was welcome and he replied with his usual smile and hasty retraction of his cigarette into his palm, to avoid it brushing her face.
"No, it's not."
Inside the conditioned are was welcome, he could feel the warmth of his body hit the cool air as he put the smoke back into his mouth and started unfolding his coat to hang it up on the hook by the door.
"It's been a long week of stitching up chem heads, there's rumour that rent downtown is gonna go up..."
Smooth as butter he retrieved his cigarettes (blue strike) from his front pocket and put them into the front of his slacks.
"and I haven't slept in three, no, four days."
Rolling up his sleeves he tried to be composed but he was clearly seriously tired despite this he let his hands rest on his hips and smiled at Queenie when he turned to face her again in the hallway and let out a small sigh. The edges of his nomad tattoos peeked out from under the bunches.
"It's good to see you."


@Queenie
 
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She waited while he talked, arms folded within the shawl to brace against the cold. Not that it was terribly cold for a normal person, but Queenie was a woman who could find cold in the stale breeze of a hot summer day. Patient, she knit her brows at the man and his words, moving to take his arm with a calm smile and lead him up the stairs.

"It is good to be seen," Queenie said in reply, "when you did not show at the bar last week I worried."

She tried to keep a social schedule. Having found isolation in her work where few had empathy to spare for those she treated, it was best to have friends and the only way to maintain friendship for those like themselves was to schedule it. A weekly drink at the bar had worked well, but always there was someone missing.

Sometimes they appeared the next week. Sometimes they never appeared again. It was one of the few ways to keep tabs when so much work between companions wasn't meant to be known.

"I have just the thing," muted excitement filled the edges of her face as they climbed the last few steps and move from the landing doorway into her flat. Beyond the illumination provided by the neons outside her windows, only a few lamps were on. A gentle smokey incense aroma filled the air where his cigarette smoke did not. She lead him over to the kitchen area, leaving him at one of the peninsula counter stools, and moved inside to open the fridge. From within she produced a box that she set on the counter and gently nudged toward him.

"From my new friend," her lips pursed over an impish smile.
 
Suspicion was far from his mind but Sloaks face was clearly wondering as he cast Queenie a glance and silently slid the box closer to open it.
From the seat his body went from slump to straight as he revealed the slice of lemoncello pie inside.
"Oh."
Again he took the cigarette from his mouth and held it in his fingers as his face formed a look of wondrous appreciation as if he had never seen anything so sweet in his life.
"Who is this wonderful friend?"
Standing up Sloaks retrieved two small plates from the cupboard and forks from the strainer by the sink, pausing only a moment to grab the ashtray from atop the sil and tip into it.
"A baker I hope."
The joke was light in his mouth as he asked while Queenie started the tea.

@Queenie
 
Suspicion was far from his mind but Sloaks face was clearly wondering as he cast Queenie a glance and silently slid the box closer to open it.
From the seat his body went from slump to straight as he revealed the slice of lemoncello pie inside.
"Oh."
Again he took the cigarette from his mouth and held it in his fingers as his face formed a look of wondrous appreciation as if he had never seen anything so sweet in his life.
"Who is this wonderful friend?"
Standing up Sloaks retrieved two small plates from the cupboard and forks from the strainer by the sink, pausing only a moment to grab the ashtray from atop the sil and tip into it.
"A baker I hope?"
The joke was light in his mouth as he asked while Queenie started the tea.

@Queenie
 
"A young girl that works at the diner by Quates," rouge took her cheeks from the smile that pressed them firmly up into her eyes.

Queenie had never been short on acquaintances, but few had grown to the title of friends quite so quickly as a girl with access to Lemoncello Pie made by Brida. It was best not to divest the name of @Jocelyn Tashiro if she had any inclination to maintain her exclusivity to this rare treat.

"Brida the cook makes the dessert but she only make this once a month," Queenie gesticulated with both hands, followed by blowing out her cheeks and giving the box a look as though she were looking at some rarefied diamond, "this is how you fix a bad week, mio caro."

Pie and tea. And cigarettes, in his case. What better way to enjoy something so delectable than with a friend?

Speaking of tea, she put the kettle on and began to procure various loose-leaf from little apothecary compartment drawers, "You want something for sleep? My couch is your couch." He'd crashed there before plenty of times to have a favorite pillow and blanket combo.
 
"Keep her close."
Sloaks advised as he sat back down and took a long drag before resting the half smoked cig on the ashtray. The smile infected him as he saw it on Queenie. She made friends fast and was an access to many things his own reserved way denied him. The price of his solitude was isolation and he accepted it but Queenie was able to face the million faces of the world and invite them home and even threw some business his way when things got busy.
It would be lying to say he wasn't a bit envious of her outgoing nature.
"This could mend a broken marriage if it taste's as good as it looks."

He leaned forward and watched her make the tea, let his eyes drift over to the couch, covered in a throw and at this point he wondered if he had spent more nights there than his own bed. The idea sang to him like a lullaby as he picked up his cigarette and began to finish it off, running his fingers through his hair as he mulled the idea over for a moment.
"I think that's a good idea. The streets are alive tonight."

A siren blared outside as it passed, red and blue flashes splattered the windows in irregular patterns and it was gone.
Sloaks finished his pull before speaking as he exhaled, giving his voice a deeper quality as it came through the smoke.
"I didn't expect my point would be made so directly for me."
Whenever he heard a siren Sloaks listened to it, to tell if the sound was coming or going and paused to wonder if he'd be seeing some of what was going on out there later in the night. Queenie's place was a refuge, when he was here he could scarce be found and for a while at least he did not have to be a street surgeon. Such times as tonight were a blessing.
 
Sirens could set one's teeth on edge if you let them. Queenie would be lying if she said she'd gotten used to them - they never heralded anything good around here, though she hardly lived and operated in the worst parts of the city. She wasn't exempt from the gangs, but mostly she had made enough friends and mended enough hardware, saved enough lives to have some mild protection from the right people. It wasn't locktite by any means, but it offered her a reprieve from the stress and violence that so many other businesses dealt with on the daily.

Her eyes skated toward the windows where the flashing lights lit the room like a flare as they whizzed by. The same thoughts trailed through her mind just as they did his. Sirens were often a harkening for those of their skillset, but she was determined to see the man relaxed and rested.

A calming tea with some soothing additives would be just the ticket to turn this humble flat into a cozy sanctuary for one very overworked and overstressed Doctor. She poured the steaming water over the metal basket into his usual mug and set it down beside his plate to steep. Two forks followed, gently set by the plates, and she leaned over the counter with her own mug between her hands. She waited in the moment, taking time to soak in the presence of a friend and the warmth of the tea suffusing her hands. The smell of the pie pungent on the air, like a whiff of mint amidst the smoke.

"You deserve this pie," Queenie proclaimed quietly with a nod, as if to pass judgement on his horrible week and the only consolation sitting before him, "comfort pie."
 
"I won't argue."
Sloaks snubbed out the smoke in the ashtray and pulled the mug closer, lifting it and breathing in the sweet scent.
"Thank you."
If he closed his eyes he knew he'd probably fall asleep right there on the countertop so instead he took a sip that was barely anything and served them both out the pie from the box. A slice on each plate making sure to send Queenie her piece before tucking into his own.
"Comfort pie."
He repeated the words as if testing them out in his voice.
The fork bit into the soft texture of the pie and came up glistening with a prize of lavish looking, mouth watering morsel. There was almost reverence as he brought it to his lips and ate it. Closing his eyes he felt the tang on his tongue spread out to his cheekbones and up to the bridge of his nose. After living on processed crap all week, some of which he suspected was actually just dog food with a sprinkle of paprika, it was like something from heaven to his mouth.

"This is, the best thing."
Pointing with his fork down at the rest of his slice he looked at Queenie and smiled, still savouring the bite in his mouth before going for another one.
"Oh my god!"
It was perfect.

@Queenie
 
Waited for him to get the first bite.

Queenie had treated herself to this pie before. Though it wasn't a regular thing, every now and then her twilight hours granted her the golden ticket to the much sought after Lemoncello Pie. She knew its velvety texture and its poignantly sweet taste. Spritely. Sour. How it suffused the entire mouth with the tingle of real lemon.

Real lemon.

So when he dove in for that first bite, she watched with rapt attention as he undertook all the same levels of delight she had upon her first encounter. Living it all over again vicariously through him, her smile broadened. Night City had plenty of things to turn to for comfort, but none so quality as honest to goodness homemade pie.

"This is the best thing."

"Oh my god!"

Queenie burst out laughing, fitted by the warmth of endearment for providing such a reverie to a friend. It was time to join him, and so she delicately swiped her fork through the tail of her own piece and popped the morsel in her mouth.

"Hmmmmm-" the sound behind pursed lips, Queenie's bangle bracelet chim-chiming as she moved about, "mmhm." Another nod as she chewed, swallowed, sliced her fork into another piece and took another bite. This interlude between them, silently savoring heaven on a fork, interspersed with mmm's and mmhm's and hnnnn's to express all varying levels of delicious euphoria.

When the plates were clean, and this wasn't a fast happening, the tea was well steeped and cool enough to enjoy without burning one's tongue. A satiated sigh left her slumped over the counter, "I am at peace," she said, "all is right in the kitchen."

Perhaps not in the world. Definitely not in the world. But in the kitchen? Yes, every bit of right it could possibly be.

"Time for couch," with warm tea and a full, happy belly, there was nothing more for it. She slipped from the kitchen across the length of her flat and over to the couch where she crawled into her usual spot on the right end one leg at a time.

"Did you... experience anything strange earlier this week?" she asked while pulling away pillows and blankets to make room for him.
 
By the word "kitchen" Sloaks was already thumbing a fresh smoke into his mouth.

Saying nothing but giving a confirming nod he stacked the plates by the sink before joining Queenie on the couch on what was his end of it whenever he was there and fell into it like a sack of potatoes, head leaned back over the top and eyes staring at the ceiling. The cigarette was like a flag that waved a banner of grey smoke into the room.
After setting his tea down he lifted the cigarette from his mouth without moving his head and wiped his face with his free hand, took a slow groaning lean forward until he was leaning his elbows on his weary knees and began to tell it.

"Mostly it was the usual, until Tuesday, then they started coming in at all hours. Chem-heads. Markings and colours I didn't know. scores of them. Knife wounds mostly half of them were kids, fourteen years old and getting into knife fights over a handful of eddies worth of data that they couldn't even crack."
Stopping only to take a drag and rub his forehead before resuming.
"But that wasn't the worst of it. One of them had a bad interface with an implant. Her body was rejecting them, implants in her legs, ripped from some poor bastard and just, jammed onto her hoping they'd work. She was a mess Queenie. The nerves were fried, her marrow was leaking, it was the worst ratchet job I've seen in a while."
Another puff and a sigh.
"I did what I could but I don't have the meds to force integration on that level and the damage was done by the time she got there. All I could do was remove the damaged tissue, dope her up and send her on her way. Told her friends to get her to get rid of the implants. They were shock absorbers of all things, who is fitting out kids with ripped military ware like that?"

His eyes went to Queenie who was looking at him with her usual compassionate empathetic eyes and he knew not just for him, but those poor kids who got so messed up that their lives were cut short and the only people they could come to were the likes of them. It made him feel bad for unloading on her like this, he often did.
Taking his tea he drank it from the mug and wished as he often did when he took tea from it that he could switch off his ability to give a fuck.
"You have your ear to the ground, tell me I'm just too tired and I'm just being paranoid again. Tell me that there's not some new ripper out there slicing up kids and fitting them with weapons grade bullshit rigs."
Again his hand went to his face and up through his hair and for a moment he could still smell the antiseptic lotion and see its shit brown smear on the girls bare shin, no more good than a band aid on a brain haemorrhage so he took another drag to rid his sense of the memory.


@Queenie
 
It was never easy hearing the stories violence between the gangs on the streets beget. Mostly, Queenie worked with the underprivileged and those in need, but she wasn't spared from having to deal with gang victims or even children, herself. It was a sad state of affairs all around. The political and economic environment just wasn't supporting much of anything beyond those in the upper echelons. It was the sort of strain that would break eventually, and when it did...

She tried not to think of Europe and her home.

"I have heard nothing of new rippers," she shook her head over a frown, "but something does seem to have changed."

The air would always be toxic, but that didn't mean it couldn't taste different.

"Last week I was in the middle of a lung replacement," jacked in to her Surgery, she often performed alone for cases that were generally viewed to be simple. A lung replacement wasn't simple, but she'd been short-handed and didn't have the heart to delay any longer on the case. Queenie's brow furrowed, "Something... happened. The entire unit went black. I fell out of my seat... though I was having a seizure."

She didn't say that the client nearly died - only because she'd managed to regain control of the unit after a few moments.

"That's never happened to me before. I have heard from others of malfunctions, glitches, blackouts across the city."
 
Dark brows furrowed on his face and Sloaks imagined how it must have felt to be in that digital darkness. What relief he felt at the absence of his suspected rogue ripper did not last long as he heard the story.

"Are you alright?"
Queenie was tough, you had to be in this city but system shocks could be bad, like a concussion and like that they did not always show symptoms right away.
"You cleaned your rig, scanned it, no viruses or demonware?"
Sloaks knew the answer before he finished asking, of course she did. It was standard practice when something irregular happened. Ideally the system should be flushed after every use but that took time and creds, being short on both was hardly unusual and often those who were waiting didn't have much either.
He took another drag to think on it and blew out the smoke with a sigh then tried rubbed the tired from his real eye.

"Fuck, I almost wish I was right..."
Sitting back he took another drink of his tea.
"... bad tech is getting onto the streets. Do you think these incidents could be connected?"
Perhaps he was being over zealous about it to assume these incidents were connected somehow. Manufacturer? No it would have been recalled before it was jacked and put into the girl. The fault happened further down the line somewhere between buyer and tech thief.

@Queenie
 
"I... think so," Queenie nodded, then nodded some more in response to his suggestions.

"The diagnostics were clear, both on my hardware and the unit. I couldn't find anything." Though she was well learned in many things, she recognized that she lacked in deeper knowledge of the internal workings of some things. "I had a headache for the rest of the day, but it was gone by the next."

A frown, a small shrug. "I do not know if they are, but the timing of the reports..." she did not like to be suspicious or to jump to conclusions.

"I have asked Whitard over to have a second look. If I missed something, he will find it, I am certain." A small smile followed, "It may be the unit is overdue for a patch update." If she learned anything, it was to start with the simple things.
 
Giving his own nod in return Sloaks hummed more to himself than in acknowledgement.
It was of course a relief to hear that Queenie did not seem to be seriously harmed but he, like her, was a doctor and it was a fact that doctors made poor patients so he had to fight the urge to insist upon an examination and satisfied himself that all appeared normal enough. No hand trembling or redness of the eyes and she was focused, calm, herself.
Another drag and exhale followed by a half smile.

"Leave the paranoia to me. It's not your colour."
Sitting back again Sloaks took a gulp of tea and tried to think.

"Whitard is good people and yeah, maybe the unit just needs an upgrade but..."
The thought wouldn't leave him alone.
"If he finds anything will you let me know? I'll only loose more sleep if I'm guessing."

The half smile returned, certain only of its own unconvincing appearance.
The cigarette was all but gone now so Sloaks put it out, squashing the nub filter into the ashtray and held the cup in both hands to resist lighting another one.

@Queenie
 
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