A Day Out of Time

Chapter 5: Cat

"I

 like him," Specs announced the moment he sat down.

"Well he does fill out those pants in a nice way, but I didn't think you'd notice," Cat remarked, leaning sideways to eye their waiter as he left another table and passed into the kitchen. She hadn't even bothered to open her menu; in fact, the handsome waiter had come ten minutes before and taken her order for both of them, drinks and all.

With any other attitude, she would have looked very out of place in the sumptuously decorated Turkish restaurant full of WASPs. In defiance of CIRIUS policy, she wore the snarling black dog from an old badge on a necklace, and under her black tank top and leggings, the bruises from her match with Grunt were just starting to color. Her second-in-command, on the other hand, was the picture of respectability in his three-piece charcoal suit.

"Kevin," Specs patiently corrected, sipping his wine. "I like Kevin. I think he'll be good for us."

"The New Kid?" Cat asked. When Specs made an affirmative noise through his mouthful of Tempranillo, she shrugged. "I hate putting them in the field so green. I'd rather plant him in the Bog and let him grow for a few months."

"He's not David, Cat."

"David Krevitz was my fault," Cat mumbled, fingers curling around her fork until the metal dug into her palms. "I should've told Tamiko to fuck off. He wasn't ready."

"It wasn't your call," Specs reminded her, "and you've still got your rose-colored glasses on. David got himself killed. He was overconfident—"

"He was a stuck-up little dickhead, and I spent two months wanting to punch him in the throat," Cat said with a sad smile. "See? No glasses here."

"It was still six years ago, Cat. Before Edwin and Marisol, before Jamal, before Grunt. Jesus Christ, that man was the best thing to happen to Gamma since you."

Cat rolled her eyes, but Specs pointed a finger at her. "Don't give me that look, Alexa Clementine Fiyero—"

"Jesus fuck, I wish I could shoot you for knowing that name," she said, sipping her mojito. "Fucking librarians with your fucking records access."

"I remember this team from when I was a kid," Specs continued, as if she hadn't spoken. "It was a madhouse. The Dogs have used it as their dumping ground for years. After the accident, do you really think it surprised me to find myself transferred out of Charlie and into Gamma?"

At that moment their food arrived, and the tense atmosphere dissolved a bit. Cat gratefully dug into her tavuk adana, savoring the tastes of coriander and cumin as they bloomed on her tongue.

After a minute or so of flavorful silence, Cat put her fork down and sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to talk about this."

Specs shrugged and cut a thin slice of lamb kebab, taking the time to gently dip it in a puddle of homemade yogurt. "The Days make us introspective. We don't know what's waiting for us, or if we'll make it to the other side."

"You got that right." She took another bite and chewed for a moment. "How's Grace?"

"Unstoppable, like always. It's a national holiday, and she's still going to try to get some work in."

"Henry'll take care of her. He's got the—what's it called again?"

Specs smirked. "Helix calls it Faux-ver. Faux fever."

"That's a terrible name."

"I know," the historian said, laughing. "It's awful. But the thing's damn effective. He's gonna have a bad day if he takes it."