12. alcohol

33 2 0
                                    

Makima brings her to a bar one day. They're having a party to welcome the newbies, she says. And Hayakawa so kindly made it a point to invite us, you know. Reze makes a mental note to tease him about it later.

It's late when they arrive. The table's cluttered with empty dishes, loosened shirt collars; alcohol-flushed faces turn towards them curiously as Makima pulls off her coat.

Oh, it's Makima... Himeno whines from the corner. Her blue eyes slide over them — bright in their drunkenness. And the other girl.

Hayakawa gives them a curt nod against the backdrop of Kobeni's terrified squeak. Reze takes in the sea of unfamiliar faces with a smile.

Reze watches with some amusement as Aki groans, head between his hands. Himeno's already collapsed.

Do you drink a lot? she asks Makima. That's some insane tolerance. For Reze, alcohol is plastic packets of spirit, poisonous methanol at streetside corners that go for coins and rid petrol smells with the putridness of rot. It means cash pressed into her hands to funnel into her endless debt. The alcohol here is golden, glasses and chatter. Light like sunlight.

She doesn't understand it but Makima only smiles mysteriously. Only for work parties.

One of the other guys in the Special Division is starting up a conversation with her when Himeno lurches up.

Euh... newbie. What about that favour, yeah? Her voice is groggy and she's leering in a way that Reze doesn't like but she's more aware of Makima's gaze on her back.

A favour? asks Makima and Reze winks at her.

Himeno promised me a French kiss if I got us out of that hotel. A pause, meaningful glance.

I'm holding back on cashing in on it, though. She leans forward until her bangs fall over her eyes and quirks her head up. Green eyes meet yellow. She's unusually bold — something about the heady atmosphere of the bar drives her forward. Something about the unrealness of the quivering lights that cast dream-like shadows on the wall. Unless, she lowers her voice, Makima's breath warm and fragrant on her neck — unless I get a kiss from someone better fast enough.

A loud sound startles her — Himeno's booing. Not you too! she says, wagging a lopsided finger. Her hand closes over the handle of Aki's beer mug; she drains it in a few seconds, slumps over the table and goes still.

I think she's passed out, says the blonde man. Or gotten alcohol poisoning, who knows?

When Reze looks back at Makima, she's getting out of her chair. I'll just take a smoke break, she says. She smiles at Reze. Why don't you come along?

pure gold baby | denreze roleswap (csm)Where stories live. Discover now