Ships and Space, Part 2c

The door buzzed open as he swiped his phone across the panel. He thought about gesturing her inside politely first, but then realised she probably wasn’t into that sort of thing. For a place that was still running, it could not have looked more derelict. Chairs and artwork had clearly been swapped around over the years, although it was seemingly not the sort of business that anyone was interested in gentrifying, either.

He looked over at her to make a comment, saw right through her face into her brain, and recoiled.

Little much?

He collected himself.

Yeah, pretty cool though. I guess you know what to do if anyone walks in.

Go drink some coffee.

He paused for a moment, then agreed to. He strolled over to the machine behind the counter, which was a new model wired into the old circuitry and interface. It gave him a bit of grief as an engineer, although it was something to work out.

Any kind of coffee specifically you want me to drink?

Darkest setting.

Got it.

Noticing the darkest setting seemed to come from a separate container on the panel, he just slightly felt not quite alright about the situation in a particular way, maybe embarrassingly. The coffee steamed out into a clear glass cup, and he examined it somewhat. She looked over.

Any problem with the coffee?

I don’t know, is there?

What do you mean?

He observed her. She was wearing a dark colourless, cosy-looking jacket with trousers to match. With her jacket open, he could see an attractive also-black shirt with all sorts of revealing large cuts. It was not altogether the sort of outfit someone trying to kill him would be wearing, he thought, but then, he wasn’t sure. She had a face that looked, at most times, annoyed and dour, like his existence was a problem for her.

You look like you might be the kind of person who’d kill me for fun.

She looked quizzical for a moment, then smiled, although, for the looks of it, mostly for herself.

Drink your coffee.

He really could be about to die, but he was just so tired, he shrugged and brought it up to his lips.

Oh yeah, and tilt your head up as you drink it.

Why not, he thought. He started to gulp it down, and winced a bit- on the inside, not showing his expression- for no reason perhaps, other than that he was used to creamier coffee.

She advanced towards him, slowly.

How’re you doing?

Alright, I think.

Good.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaned in, and took a deep inhale through her nose.

Now your moustache smells of coffee.

Can I kiss you now?

Yep.