Zam the Hybrid

11. Gadget Man

Zam's body was tired. He usually never slept but these last few days, his sleep had been deep, refreshing and revitalising. He'd woken up several hours after what he was used to and whilst it took time out of his exceptionally busy schedule, it felt good. It restored his brain's strength. His feeble body, however, was suffering from recent changes. He often found himself completely out of breath and with very little strength.

This morning was no different. When his eyes finally shot open, his entire body was aching. He let out a painful groan as he rolled over, bringing several flares of pain to the muscles in his back. He had expected to come into contact with Taylor's soft skin but instead, he just flopped down onto the empty side of the bed. She must've already got up. Now other people were waking up before him, just how tiring was intercourse?

Zam forced himself to sit up. After a few moments stretching his arms to try and shake away the aches he constantly felt, Zam eventually pulled himself out of bed. He stood up and put on some loose fitting shorts and wrapped his dressing gown around himself before making his way to the source of noise within the flat which seemed to be coming from the kitchen.

"Morning!" she chirped. Taylor was busying herself with a frying pan, cooking some breakfast for the two of them. She didn't appear to be wearing all that much. A pair of very short shorts and a loose-fitting, white t-shirt.

"Morning," he replied as he approached her from behind, embracing her, placing his head on her shoulder so that their cheeks touched. She turned her head slightly so that she was able to give him a small peck on the cheek.

"What's the plan for today then?"

"I need to head down to the lab and work on a few things and then whatever I want to," Zam shrugged, "Hopefully there's some kind of mass murder that Emily needs help with, that'd really spice up my day."

"You know, none of my previous boyfriends started their day by hoping for mass murder."

"Well none of them were me, were they now?" At that moment the door to the flat swung open and a familiar man in a leather black trench coat stepped inside. Taylor instantly tensed up and her face immediately turned completely red.

"I should probably go have a shower," Taylor mumbled before quickly dashing off. Even as she left, Tristan followed her carefully with a grin etched on his rugged face.

"Now, I may not like the idea of a more than one nigh' stand bu' I gotta say, she don't 'ave an 'alf bad pair of Saffrons."

"A pair of what?" Zam asked. Tristan was always just making up words.

"Saffrons!" Tristan exclaimed. "Saffron Cities? Titties?"

"How does that make any sense? How can Saffron possibly refer to breasts?"

"Bleedin' rhymin' slang innit?" Tristan sighed, shaking his head. "You gonna 'ave to learn all dis eventually."

"Or maybe you could just learn to talk properly."

"From where I come from, dis is proper," Tristan replied. "You still good for tonigh'?"

"Unless something more exciting comes up."

"Good, I'll mee' ya down the ol' rub-a at eigh'."

"The what?"

"The rub-a-dub-dub! The pub ya fackin' idiot!" Without saying another word, Tristan turned on his heels, trench coat swirling around his feet, and exited the flat, slamming the door behind him. He was, of course, talking about his next lesson in the art of being a man. Apparently, Zam's alcohol tolerance level was lower than his chances of winning the lottery and he didn't even have a ticket. Tonight was supposed to fix that problem.