Phone Tag (Shidge/Klance)

Chapter 13

"Sonic and Mario at the Drinking Games? That's a mouthful," Shiro remarked, wrinkling his nose at the stench of cigarette smoke. "Aren't they worried about copyright infringement?"

"I doubt it," Katie said. "And even if its owners were, I think they'd have no problem paying for a lawyer." She gestured to the line in front of them. The place was going to be packed. Katie wondered if Takashi was further ahead in line—or maybe he was behind her? Still, he couldn't be that hard to find, right?

"Good point." Shiro squinted, trying to get a glimpse anyone who might possible be Pidge. She hadn't exactly given him a description of what she was wearing. And with all the people talking at once, it would be hard to pinpoint her voice. "So, what should I expect when we go in?"

Based on what Matt had told her, there'd be a lot of cheap video game-themed mixed drinks and flashy 80s arcade games. But he hadn't told her about the line or obnoxious kids cutting in line with fake IDs. "Mixed drinks and classic arcade games. Like Pac-Man. Oh, and apparently they have ski-ball."

Sounded reasonable enough to him. "No laser tag, I hope?"

"Not from what I've heard. Besides, I don't think getting wasted and running around with fake weapons is ideal. Now that would be a lawsuit to worry about."

"And yet another good point. Katie, two. Shiro, zero."

A muscular bouncer walked down the line with an attentive eye. He stopped to request IDs for those who looked younger. He bypassed Shiro, who looked a little older than he was. (Twenty-four, Hunk had told her.) War and traumatic experiences often aged those involved, and Shiro was no exception.

"ID, please." Katie rummaged through her bag—nothing more than a spare laptop case—and produced her ID. The photo was almost nothing like her: her amber hair fell a few inches past her shoulders. The most compelling similarity was her eyes. Except they didn't seem as sharp. They didn't glare back. They seemed bright and happy. Shiro guessed she had to be at least seventeen or eighteen in that photo—she didn't look it, of course. It was probably taken before her father died.

The bouncer eyed her suspiciously. "Kid, you can't be more than fourteen. Go back home to your parents."

Katie's hands balled up into fists. "First of all, it's parent. Second, I live on my own. Third, I'm twenty-one and probably need a more recent copy of my photo ID. But I can assure you, it's not a fake."

The bouncer gestured to a coworker who had a black light flashlight. He ripped it from his friend's hands and ran the light over it. "My bad, kid." He scribbled a "21+" on the back of her hand in black permanent marker.

Shiro, ever the gentleman, opened the door for his date. "Ladies first."

"Actually, can we go in together?"

Ah, she's probably nervous. "Of course." Shiro offered Pidge his hand, who took it. Her grip was damp from sweat, but it didn't bother him.

Better that it was her sweat than blood on his hands.

Sonic and Mario at the Drinking Games practically suffocated them. The atmosphere was hot and heavy and reeked of alcohol—and maybe a hint of body odor. The place was dimly lit, save for the rows of glowing and flashing arcade game screens.

But the smells and sights were nothing compared to the sounds. Pew pew pew! A machine spat out tokens, jingling into a cup. The Pac-Man theme blared from one corner of the arcade.

Shiro flinched or cringed at every unexpected sound. He hadn't expected it to be so loud. And he really had wanted to go. Katie had been so excited about it—saying no would've crushed her. Also, Pidge was here, too. Somewhere, out in this crowded joint, looking and listening for him.