Bad Habits

October 27, 2031, PM 07:00:05

To many, Cyberlife is a technological marvel. To you, it's a fresh start that leads you to one of the dingiest bars you've ever seen in your entire life.

The fluorescent lights of Charlie's Hideaway reflect brightly off the puddles left from the earlier rain. You look left and right once then twice before crossing the street. Autumn is in full swing, and the air's chill reminds you of home. It's a comforting thought as you near the door to the bar. A red anti-android sticker stands out against the dark wood of the bar door, and you pull it open.

The smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke engulf you as soon as you enter. The bar is relatively empty except for the stray patron huddled over their drink. You take a hesitant seat at the bar, surveying your surroundings. To say the bar is run down would be an understatement. The vinyl is peeling off all the bar stools due to age and overuse, and various stains cover the floor. You focus on the clock barely hanging on the wall to your right. 7 o'clock on the dot.

You aren't sure why you agreed to meet your coworkers for drinks. Maybe it's your desire for camaraderie. Perhaps it's your desperate need to be liked by the people around you. They claim it's to officially welcome you to the team, but the uneasiness that settles across you tells you otherwise.

The bartender, an older woman with red hair, keeps her gaze on you as you shift on the bar stool, the vinyl poking against your thighs.

"You here to buy a drink or you just gonna gawk the entire time?" she crosses her arms over her chest as she takes in your appearance. Your peacoat alone costs more than this entire establishment, and you stick out like a sore thumb. Suddenly, you regret not dressing down more after work.

You rush out your drink order, cheeks flushing. You're able to catch a glance at her name tag before she turns to grab a shaker and a bottle of gin. Charlie. Well, that answers that question.

You take a moment to check your watch— 7:05. They'll be here any moment.

Charlie sets your drink down in front of you, a faint gleam of disgust in her eyes. The door opens with the ring of a bell.

"My usual, please, Charlie," a man around your age requests as if he's been doing this for years now. He sidles up next to you at the bar, standing slightly too close for comfort. Charlie nods and begins effortlessly making the man's drink.

He smells of cigarettes, and you lean away from him.

You steal a furtive glance in his direction, taking in his appearance. His navy police uniform blends in perfectly with the dark atmosphere of the bar. Even without the uniform, he holds himself like someone in a position of authority. A jolt runs down your spine as his gaze lands on yours.

"Cyberlife, huh?"

You straighten before meeting his eyes, which are focused on the badge you accidentally left on the lapel of your coat. You purse your lips and remove it before hastily shoving it into your pocket.

Charlie wordlessly slides a glass of bourbon to the man, her eyes darting between the two of you.

The man nods his thanks. "You waiting for someone, or just felt like being somewhere you don't belong tonight?"

You swirl your drink, purposely ignoring his jab. You recheck your watch.

7:08.

"Let me guess," he continues, "you're waiting for the no-good dude your parents don't approve of."

You turn to face him, tilting your head. "Do you always harass the patrons, or is tonight just special?"

Irritation flares in your chest as you meet his steely gaze. He barks out a laugh before leaning into your personal space.

"None of the people who frequent this place look like you, sweetheart," he purrs.

You cringe and turn to face forward once again. What a loser.

"Seriously though," he continues, "what's a person like you doing in this part of town?"

You aren't sure what compels you to answer. Time is passing and the pit of uneasiness in your stomach is growing. They aren't going to show.

You sigh, "If you must know, I'm supposed to meet my coworkers for drinks."

He chuckles into his drink. "Sweetheart, those Cyberlife geeks would never set foot in a place like this. Didn't the 'No Androids' sign on the front door hint that you were in the wrong spot?"

"Obviously, I had my doubts," you grit out. Your cheeks flush, immediately regretting opening up to this random stranger.

"You new or something? Is that why they sent you here? Some nerdy hazing ritual? Survive the shady bar and you can live."

He grins and it's contagious. You can't help yourself when you laugh at the absurdity of it all. You have a goddamn doctorate and the people who you are supposed to work with for the foreseeable future played you like it was nothing. It probably is nothing to them— just a way to remind the new hire who's really in charge.

"I'm a fool, aren't I?"

Your question isn't really for him, but the self-depreciation makes you feel slightly less bad about yourself.

"Oh yeah, sweetheart," he agrees far too quickly for your liking. "They played you like a fiddle."

You press your lips together, nodding slowly as the revelation sinks in. You can't ever go back there.

"My name is not 'sweetheart,'" you assert, wiping the look of dread off your face and forcing a glare in his direction. It's easier being angry at him rather than at yourself.

He hums, raising a brow in your direction. You dare to give him your first name. You much prefer that over sweetheart.

For the rest of the night, he pointedly refuses to call you by your name.

Not long after that, you learn his name is Gavin and that he wants to be a detective one day. He regales stories about his days as a police officer with the perfect mix of self-deprecation and narcissism that you wonder if he's making everything up. You let slip a few tales of your own, mostly about the misery that was grad school.

Eventually, the mostly empty bar becomes desolate except for the two of you. You pay your tab and call for a cab. You stand up, and the world sways slightly under you. You blink a few times, willing your vision to return to normal.

"Liquor catching up to you?"

You roll your eyes as you head to the door of the bar, Gavin not too far behind you. The cool night air hits your now-flushed skin and the fluorescent lights cast a pink hue over the two of you.

Gavin lights a cigarette as you wait for your cab. It seems like for the first time of the night, you're finally getting a good look at him. He's handsome when he isn't scowling or snickering at your expense. He's rugged, but a little disheveled. His usual piercing gray eyes are now muted underneath the bright pink lights.

He blows out a puff of smoke, "It's rude to stare, sweetheart."

"Don't you have your own car? Why are you still here?"

Your response comes out harsher than intended, the embarrassment of being caught adding venom to your words. But, he just laughs.

"Can't have you out here all alone, now can I?"

The next few minutes pass in comfortable silence, as you watch the stray cars pass and Gavin finishes his cigarette. Your driverless cab pulls up to the curb and you shoot a glance in Gavin's direction.

"Thanks for keeping me company, even if you were annoying."

He chuckles, "Anytime, sweetheart."

You roll your eyes and enter the cab. As it pulls away, a small part of you wonders if you'll ever see him again. An even smaller part of you secretly hopes that you will.