The Gloves are Off

Untitled Part 3

Not much to be said about the rest of the evening, a blush seeming permanently affixed to your face, cheeks hurting from smiling so much, damn near getting an ab workout from all the laughter – all thanks to none other than Mr. Vektor sitting next to you.

Sure, the others joke around, share some stories, make conversation, but you and Vik... somethin' clicks there. Maybe it's just in your head, maybe it's not, maybe he sees you as some kid but not so much a punk as you'd assumed. Could be the start of a great friendship, which would make sense given that you'll be hangin' around more now that Jackie finally introduced you and V.

Gotta get your head on straight though, these hormones driving you crazy, puttin' crazy thoughts in your head and threating to ruin a good thing. Don't need to be burning any bridges like this, not when reliable people were so hard to come by as it is.

He'd probably be nice about it, turn you away all sweet like, saying he was 'flattered' or some shit to let you down easy, but at the end of the day you know it's best to not even bark up that tree to begin with.

Somethin' tells you Vik is a guy you wanna keep around, Ripperdoc or not, he seems like the type you want in your corner, and you don't wanna ruin that by being stupid – especially not when you just met the man.

You try not to focus too much on how he seems more keen on talking to you than anyone else; try to ignore those crooked smirks of his cast your direction; try to push down the heat threatening to rise every time his deep laugh sounds at one of your dumb stories or corny jokes.

It's probably not good how much you enjoy the attention, but damn does it feel good having someone make you feel this way...

Even if things just stay like this, this is a hell of a friendship to have.

You find your eyes lingering on his arm, the ink great quality of course but uh... other reasons may have been involved too, the hem of his shirt sleeve tight around his bicep, the vein there pushing out slightly and making your mouth go dry.

Knowing you can't hide the staring, you opt to own it entirely, "don't suppose you can tell me where you got your work done?" you motion to his arm, 100% certain he'd already noticed you looking even before you spoke up.

"Lookin' to get some done yourself?"

"Yeah, been meaning to get this leg piece finished," you motion down to your leg, unintentionally brushing it along his as you stretch it out beside the table pointing to a patch of skin left open along your knee, "been putting it off since that's a really tender spot, but gotta fill it in at some point otherwise it just feels incomplete."

He seems to appreciate your ink in return, studying the artwork a moment before clearing his throat and meeting your eyes again, "sorry to say the guy who did mine passed a few years back, but I think I know a few I could recommend whenever you're ready to go under the needle again."

"I'd really appreciate that," you shift your leg back, bumping his again but he either doesn't notice or doesn't care, showing no reaction either way, "finding preem talent is hard these days, the guy I was going to decided to up and leave Night City. Not that I blame him, but don't wanna go to just anyone new either."

"I get that," he nods, resting his elbows along the table and popping his knuckles before leaning forward a bit, "permanent changes to your body are something to take serious, too many people rush into it these days, don't think about it enough, don't do enough research, just want it on the cheap without considering consequences."

"Exactly," you find yourself leaning forward too, elbows maybe an inch from grazing against each other, "I love ink but too many people get it just for the sake of being covered, don't plan out or think about the art of it. I'm sure it's the same with implants? People wanting an upgrade without always understanding the long-term."