Puppystuff

Sera stood alone on the sidewalk, her handshell held against an ear. Drumming her claws against the wiry thigh of her reverse-jointed leg as she waited. A few seconds later, she perked up.

“Hey. Miki?” Sera paused for a few moments.

“Yeah, I’m ok,” she told the shell. “I just broke up with Gray.”

She resumed her walk, falling into shadow as she left the range of a streetlamp. “No, he didn’t push at all actually. That’s part of it, I just … I couldn’t get a feel for him. I never knew what he wanted. He didn’t seem to want anything.”

“Sure,” she said, tapping her quills slowly with her free hand. “And he seemed to be very happy to be dating me, but, I dunno, aren’t you supposed to feel something special? Not just, like, ‘this guy is cool?’ I could never tell that he felt anything particularly special and he didn’t open up. Maybe I’m missing something.”

Still walking, she moved her hand from her head to the building next to her. Her claws made a quiet rasp against the industrial plastic of the wall. “I think we will stay friends. He was disappointed, but he wasn’t mad. It was a nice few months.”

Sera dropped her hand as she reached the mouth of an alley, then chuckled. “Thank you, but I’m doing okay. I’ll settle with just —”

Suddenly, a gloved hand was over her mouth, someone’s weight pulling backward, throwing her off-balance. A sharp pain exploded against her temple and spots glittered across her vision. Her shell tumbled from her hand, but she couldn’t hear it strike the pavement over the sound of hot blood rushing through her ears.

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“Miss Thrace sent you a text message while you were in the bathroom,” Hafiz told Sera as she returned to the dining room. His voice was even and quiet, but a catch in his tone caught Sera’s attention.

She squinted. “Okaaay … did you know it was Miki because of the ringtone?”

“She said that she would meet you to study, and to call her after your date.” He bit off the end of the last word and closed his cracked lips over it with distaste.

Sera retrieved her voice from the pit of her stomach, where it rested beside her heart. “Don’t … don’t read my texts, dad.”

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Though she had no business with the Washington Office of Thaumomorph Affairs that Wednesday morning, Sera found herself walking through its neighborhood nonetheless. By now it was a familiar walk; she’d taken over a dozen separate trips there throughout the year after what she referred to as ‘the tax debacle.’ Even with her work registration in order, snaking her way through the shellwork was a chore that she’d come to believe was designed to make people like her feel unwelcome. Her destination today wasn’t the office, though, but two blocks shy of it. She shouldered through a door leading into an unremarkable branch of the Siren Coffee corporation. There, a familiar barista was on the customer side of the counter, pulling an apron over his head and off.

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“Serafina?”

Sera didn’t look up from her lapshell. “Mm-hm?”

Several moments passed.

“Serafina!”

“What!” Sera called out, annoyed.

“Come out to the living room please. There is someone here to see you.”

Something in Hafiz’s voice gave her pause. Sera typed out another few sentences, set her state to ‘away’ and rolled off the bed. She walked into the living room, saw someone standing next to Hafiz, and froze.

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fuckyeahdementia:

ohai! found your eyeball.

D:

Sera’s eyes were still fixed on the coffee shop’s menu board when she realized that there were no more customers in front of her. She hurried to the counter.

“Good morning, miss. You all set?” The cashier asked her. He was in his early twenties, with lanky black hair that was probably supposed to be short but badly needed a trim.

“May I please have uh an iced vietnamese?” Sera asked, stepping back to get a good look at the menu.

“Sure,” the cashier said. He brushed his bangs out of his eyes and tapped at the surface of his register. “That’s two cred seventy.”

Sera extended her chargebus, carefully tucked between two thin knuckles, to the cashier. He took it calmly, plugged it into the register, and handed it back. “There you go. Your drink will be at the counter to the right.”

“Thanks,” Sera said, giving a tight smile.

“Thank you,” the cashier said. “Hey, weren’t you here last week?”

Sera sighed. “Yes.”

“Ah,” the cashier raised his eyebrows slightly, reading between the lines. “Well, have a good day and, uh, good luck?”

“Thanks,” Sera said with a rueful smirk.

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…methodically, making hideous noises, ensuring that her orgasm is nonexistent or faked. Always make a mess on her face at the end. ALWAYS.

“I have to go check out an amplifier on the fifth floor,” Hafiz said. “I have residents reporting weak Ether. Ember, you’re on the hook, all right?”

“Okay, dad,” Sera intoned.

“If Taggart calls again, either bully him or stonewall him. I do not want him thinking that he can roll right over you, understand?”

“Yes dad.”

“All right, I’m going. Love you, Feenie.”

“Luvyutudad,” Sera mumbled to her text.

“Don’t let my daughter get into too much trouble, Michelle,” Hafiz said.

“I won’t, Mr. Dyne,” Miki said cheerfully.

“Dad!” Sera barked.

“Right, right, I’m going.” Hafiz shouldered his tech satchel and exited, pulling the door shut behind him.

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