You power on, stretching your arms with a mechanical groan as you blink yourself into full awareness. For the first time in what feels like ages, you feel refreshed. Clearly, you needed that sleep. Still, a strange unease lingers in the back of your mind—a faint echo of that bizarre memory, or whatever it was.
A sudden clatter from the living room pulls you out of your thoughts. Startled, you momentarily forget the events of yesterday—and the fact that you now have a roommate. You quickly get up, open your door, and step into the living room, only to stop dead in your tracks.
The barren, lifeless apartment you had gotten so used to is gone. In its place is a vibrant, almost cozy space. Paintings hang on the walls—some abstract, others depicting vivid landscapes. A few new pieces of furniture are scattered across the room: a small side table next to the couch, a standing lamp in the corner, and even a modest rug beneath the coffee table. The shattered mirror from V's ship now hangs in the hallway, its cracks giving it an oddly artistic look.
Your gaze lands on V, standing in the corner, watering a plant—a plant—with an oil can. She notices you and turns, smirking. "Morning, sleepyhead. Like what I've done with the place?"
You gape at the transformation, struggling to find words. "I—uh... what happened here?"
She shrugs, setting the oil can aside and leaning casually against the wall. "Your apartment was depressing, so I fixed it. You're welcome."
You stutter, looking around in confusion at the sheer volume of new things. "W-where did you even get all this?"
V chuckles, crossing her arms with a smug grin. "Oh, you know, here and there. Some stuff from humans who don't need it anymore, and, uh... a few things from drones who I may or may not have previously murdered."
Your jaw drops. "You—you can't just take things from dead drones!"
She scoffs, rolling her eyes. "What? It's not like they're gonna miss it. Better to repurpose it than let it sit around collecting dust."
You open your mouth to argue, but quickly decide it's not worth it. Instead, you sigh, letting your shoulders drop as you take in the new atmosphere. Despite her... questionable sourcing methods, you can't deny that it's nice. The place feels more like an actual home now, and you're surprised by how well the decor suits the space.
"You have a surprisingly classical style for a... well, for a murderer," you say, and she raises an eyebrow, smirking.
"Flattery will get you everywhere," she teases.
You shake your head, but a small smile tugs at your lips. "I mean it, though. Thanks, V. I do appreciate it. Even if your methods were... unorthodox."
"Unorthodox?" She laughs, brushing past you to adjust the angle of one of the paintings. "I'll take that as a compliment. And you're welcome, techie."
You glance over at the counter and notice a pot of oil already heated and waiting. Grabbing a mug, you pour yourself a generous helping, sipping the warm liquid as the comforting heat spreads through your system. V continues adjusting the paintings on the walls, her movements uncharacteristically gentle and precise for someone of her... profession.
You watch her for a moment, the contrast striking. The same hands that tore apart drones with ease now delicately nudged a frame into place, her head tilting slightly as if gauging the perfect angle.
Then, as if carried on the faintest breeze, you hear it—soft, almost imperceptible. Humming?
You blink and shake your head. No way. There's no way V is humming to herself.
Still, you lean slightly against the counter, pretending to focus on your mug but listening closer. The sound is gone, leaving only the soft clinks of her fingers brushing against the frames. You decide against saying anything, opting instead to sip your oil and let the moment play out in peace.
V's voice cuts through the silence as she turns, a sly grin already in place. "You gonna just stand there and stare all morning, or are you at least gonna try to provide me with some entertainment?"
You nearly choke on your oil, coughing and setting the mug down quickly. "Sure," you manage, trying to recover your dignity. "I can play along."
"Good," she replies, her grin widening as she folds her arms and leans against the wall.
You gesture toward the newly decorated room, still taking it all in. "So, uh... the decor. Classical style for a disassembly drone. Didn't peg you for having such refined tastes."
V shrugs, clearly enjoying the opportunity to talk herself up. "What, you thought being good at slicing things apart means I can't appreciate the finer things in life? I'm more than just sharp edges, techie."
You chuckle, nodding toward the neatly straightened paintings. "Clearly. I'll admit, I'm impressed."
Her grin turns mischievous. "You should be."
Leaning against the counter, you tilt your head, deciding to push a little further. "So, what did you do before coming to Copper-9? Slaughtering the drone population of some other unlucky planet, or...?"
The question hangs in the air for a moment too long. V's smirk falters, and for once, her confident demeanor slips. She hesitates, her yellow eyes flickering with something unreadable.
You catch on immediately, raising your hands in a placating gesture. "Hey, you don't have to answer if you don't want to. I was just curious."
Her gaze softens ever so slightly, the tension easing from her posture. "Thanks, dummy," she mutters, though her tone quickly shifts back to teasing. Without warning, she grabs a decorative pillow from the couch and launches it straight at your face.
"Hey!" you exclaim, barely catching it in time.
"Don't get used to me being nice," she quips, her smirk back in full force. "Now, stop being boring and do something before I find a heavier thing to throw at you."
You sigh, shaking your head, but a small smile tugs at your lips. "Fine, fine. You're impossible, you know that?"
"And don't you forget it," she fires back, turning her attention back to decorating.
You pour a second mug of oil, the warm scent wafting up as you carry it over to V. She pauses her fiddling with a painting, turning to you with a raised brow. For a moment, she seems genuinely caught off guard by the gesture.
"Here," you say simply, handing her the mug.
She takes it, looking between you and the drink as though it's some kind of trap. "Thanks," she says in return, her voice quieter than usual.
You shrug, grabbing your own mug and settling into one of the new chairs she'd dragged into the space. The upholstery is surprisingly comfortable, a testament to her apparently meticulous taste. Taking a slow sip, you glance around the room, appreciating how much cozier it feels now compared to the barren apartment from before.
V sips from her mug too, leaning against the wall as she studies you over the rim. For a rare moment, she's silent, seemingly content to let the atmosphere settle.
"Nice work with all this," you say after a moment, gesturing to the decorations.
She smirks faintly, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. "Yeah, well, someone had to make this place livable. You were doing a pretty terrible job on your own."
You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays any attempt at annoyance. "Guess I'll give you credit, just this once."
"You'd better," she quips, but her tone is lighter than usual.
The two of you sit there, sipping from your mugs, letting the peaceful quiet of the room sink in. For just a moment, it feels like the chaos of yesterday and all the strange dreams and questions weighing on your mind can wait.
You glance at the time and sigh. It's been days since you've done any actual maintenance, and while the break was... eventful, it's probably time to get back to work. Setting your empty mug down, you stand up and stretch.
"I should probably head out. Maintenance doesn't fix itself," you say, already mentally running through what tools you'll need.
V stands up as well, brushing off her coat. "Good. I've been bored out of my mind in here."
You pause, turning to her with a raised brow. "Wait, are you planning on coming with me?"
She smirks, hands on her hips. "Obviously. What, you think I'm gonna sit here twiddling my thumbs while you go play plumber?"
You open your mouth to protest but stop yourself. After a moment, you sigh and shrug. "Fine. Just... don't scare anyone, alright?"
"No promises," she replies with a grin, already walking to the door.
You both leave the apartment and make your way through the halls to the maintenance bay. Several Worker Drones give nervous glances at V as you pass, but she seems to revel in the attention, occasionally flashing her teeth just to see them flinch. You try not to think about it too much.
When you arrive at the bay, you grab your toolbelt from its hook and sling it around your waist, picking a few extra tools off the shelves and placing them in a toolbox. A quick glance at the maintenance request sheet tells you today's work isn't anything too out of the ordinary—leaky pipes, malfunctioning doors, a couple of overdue tune-ups.
"Looks like a quiet day," you mutter.
"Boring," V replies, looking over your shoulder at the list. "Is this really all you do? Fix stuff that other drones are too incompetent to handle?"
You give her a look. "Hey, this stuff is important. Unless you like the idea of doors locking you in or oil spraying everywhere."
"Fair point," she admits, leaning lazily against a workbench. "Lead the way."
With a shake of your head, you grab your toolkit and head out into the halls, V trailing just behind, still wearing that amused smirk.
The first maintenance request takes you to a dimly lit hallway with a faint sound of dripping echoing off the walls. You spot the source immediately—a pipe running along the ceiling with a steady leak forming a small puddle on the floor. Unfortunately, it's just out of your reach.
"Great," you mutter, setting your toolkit down and glancing around. "I need a ladder."
As you start scanning the area for one, V steps forward, her smirk widening. "Ladder, huh?"
Before you can react, she grabs you by the waist and lifts you effortlessly off the ground. Your feet dangle uselessly, and your hands instinctively grab at her arms for balance.
"V! What are you doing?!" you yelp, your voice echoing in the empty hallway.
"Solving your problem," she says nonchalantly, holding you steady like you weigh nothing. "Now quit squirming and fix the pipe, or do you want me to shake you like a soda can first?"
You groan, half from embarrassment and half from the ridiculousness of the situation. "You could've asked, you know."
"Where's the fun in that?" she retorts, looking entirely too pleased with herself.
With a resigned sigh, you pull a wrench from your belt and get to work on the pipe, doing your best to ignore how precarious this feels—or the fact that V is humming softly as if holding you like this is the most casual thing in the world.
You unwrap a roll of plumber's tape, trying to focus on sealing the leaky pipe rather than the situation you're currently in. The warmth of V's hands gripping your sides is distracting, and you can feel your face heat up. You shake your head, doing your best to suppress the thought.
"Tighten this here... and there we go," you mutter, wrapping the last bit of tape around the pipe. "That should do it."
"About time," V says with a playful tone. "Now can I put you down, or are you enjoying this a little too much?"
You sputter, the blush on your cheeks intensifying. "Just put me down already!"
She smirks mischievously. "Alright, if you insist."
Without warning, she lets go.
You yelp as gravity takes hold for a split second, but her hands catch you under the arms before you can hit the floor. She leans in close, her smirk practically dripping with smug amusement.
"Relax, I've got you," she says, her voice soft but teasing.
Your face flushes even more as she sets you down the rest of the way, this time with exaggerated gentleness. You brush yourself off, muttering something about warning people before they're unceremoniously dropped.
She shrugs, leaning against the wall with a grin. "Where's the excitement in that? Admit it, you were thrilled."
You sigh, shaking your head. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"Yup, you said that already" she replies cheerfully, grabbing your toolkit and tossing it to you. "Now, what's next, partner?"
You sigh and head down the hall with V to the next maintenance task: a malfunctioning door that's stuck partially opening and closing in a continuous loop. Its grating, metallic screech echoes down the corridor, and you grimace at the noise. This one looks a bit trickier.
Setting your toolbox on the floor, you pull out a screwdriver and kneel in front of a nearby maintenance panel. As you open it, a mess of frayed wires greets you. "Of course," you mutter.
V leans casually against the wall beside the door, arms crossed as she watches you work. "So, what's the problem?" she asks after a minute, her tone bored but curious.
"Electrical fault, maybe a misaligned sensor," you reply without looking up. "Unless you've got a secret talent for wiring, I don't think you can help with this one."
V chuckles, pushing off the wall. "Don't need to be an electrician to fix a door," she says cryptically, striding over to the offending doorway.
You glance up, just in time to see her step into the gap where the door struggles to close. "What are you—"
With a small grunt, V grabs the edges of the malfunctioning door and forces it open in one swift motion. Sparks fly as the mechanism gives a groaning screech of protest before falling silent. The door slams fully open, finally defeated.
She steps back, laughing, her hands on her hips. "Fixed," she declares proudly.
You just stare at her, screwdriver still in hand. "That... that wasn't fixing it. That was brute force!"
V smirks, brushing nonexistent dust off her hands. "Brute force works every time. Besides, it's not malfunctioning now, is it?"
You let out a long sigh, closing the maintenance panel. "Pretty sure you just destroyed half the door's functionality."
She shrugs, completely unapologetic. "It's open, isn't it?"
You shake your head, grabbing your toolbox and standing up. "Remind me to keep you far away from anything actually delicate."
V grins, following you down the hall. "Hey, that'd mean I couldn't be around you, dummy." She says as she ruffles your hair, eliciting a sigh as you continue down the hall, not bothering to fix your mess of a hairstyle.
You make your way to the next maintenance task: a vending machine that's been on the fritz. As you approach, V spots it and immediately perks up.
"Oh, finally, something useful," she says with a grin, pulling a coin out of her pocket.
Before you can say anything, she strides up to the machine and inserts the coin. She scans the options briefly before pressing a button for a bag of chips. The familiar mechanical hum begins, and a bag slides forward—only to get stuck halfway between the glass and the shelf.
V's smile drops. She stares at the trapped snack with a mix of disbelief and growing irritation.
"Oh, come on," she mutters, giving the machine a light smack. When that doesn't work, she clenches her fists and growls under her breath.
You quickly fumble with your key ring, searching for the master key. "Wait, wait—don't—"
Just as you locate the right key and look up, you hear a loud crack. V's fist shatters the glass panel, sending shards flying as she reaches in and yanks the bag of chips free.
"Well, that solves that," she says smugly, tearing open the bag and popping a chip into her mouth.
You just stand there, dumbfounded, the master key still in your hand. "That wasn't even the machine we were supposed to fix!"
V looks at you, then at the broken vending machine, and shrugs. "Guess it's broken now," she says nonchalantly, tossing a chip in your direction like an offering.
You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose as the chip bounces off your chest. "I'm going to pretend I didn't see that."
"Smart move," she says with a smirk, crunching on another chip as she gestures for you to lead the way. "C'mon, let's see what else we can fix today."
After finally locating the correct vending machine, you let out a small sigh of relief and pull out your master key. "Alright," you say, pointing a finger at V. "You stay back and enjoy your chips. No breaking this one, got it?"
V grins, leaning against the wall nearby. "Fine, fine," she says, popping another chip into her mouth. She makes sure to crunch it obnoxiously loud as you open the machine's front panel, just to keep things interesting.
You roll your eyes but focus on the task at hand, inspecting the springs behind the snacks. A few adjustments here and there should keep the items from getting stuck again. Then you move on to calibrating the sensors, making sure they register properly. Lastly, you check the coin return mechanism, clearing out a jammed quarter that might've caused some of the issues.
Satisfied, you lock the machine back up. But as you close the panel, your eyes land on a small row of neatly wrapped chocolate chip cookies. You hesitate for a moment before stealthily grabbing one, slipping it into your pocket.
"Ohhh, what's this?" V's voice sings out behind you, making you freeze.
You turn to see her smirking at you, chips still in hand. "Stealing from the WDF now, huh? Naughty drone."
You shrug casually, trying to play it off. "What can I say? It's not like I get paid for this. I'm entitled to a free snack every now and then."
V chuckles, clearly amused. "Guess you're more fun than I thought," she says, tossing another chip into her mouth. "So, what's next on the list, cookie thief?"
You shake your head, trying not to smile as you consult the maintenance sheet. "Let's just hope the next thing doesn't involve you breaking more equipment."
"No promises," she says, trailing behind you with a smirk.
As the day goes on, V continues to follow you like a mischievous shadow, her antics keeping you on edge but surprisingly out of trouble—for now. While you tackle a series of smaller maintenance tasks, she ramps up her teasing, finding new ways to make your life just a little more chaotic.
"Y'know," she says at one point, leaning against the wall while you tighten a loose screw on a panel. "For someone who's good at fixing things, you ever thought about fixing me next?"
You glance at her with a raised brow. "You're a lot more complicated than a vending machine, V."
She grins. "C'mon, you're a pro. Don't sell yourself short."
Rolling your eyes, you jokingly poke her side with your screwdriver. "Here, fixed. Good as new."
The grin on her face shifts into something sharper as she grabs your wrist, yanking you closer. Her neon yellow eyes narrow, and her voice drops to a low whisper that sends a chill down your circuits. "It's gonna take a lot more than a screwdriver to fix me, little drone."
You blink, startled, your face heating up unexpectedly. Before you can think of a reply, she bares her fangs, her grin widening in an exaggerated attempt to look menacing. She probably expects you to flinch or stammer, but instead, you blush.
Her expression falters for a fraction of a second, and she looks almost... surprised. Then, with a small scoff, she shoves you away playfully, shaking her head. "Seriously? You're blushing? You're too easy to mess with."
You rub the back of your neck, trying to cover your embarrassment. "You're the one who's being weird."
"Yeah, yeah," she says, turning away with a chuckle. "Let's just hope you don't short-circuit next time I try to scare you."
You mutter something under your breath and gather your tools, ready to move on to the next task. But as you catch her glancing at you out of the corner of her eye, you're pretty sure she's just as flustered as you are—though she'd probably never admit it.
The workday wraps up faster than you expected, thanks to V's relentless antics. As you return to the maintenance area, you place your tools back in their slots, taking a moment to appreciate the quiet after the day's chaos.
"Well, that's that," you say, ready to head back to the apartment.
V stretches her arms dramatically, yawning for effect. "All that walking really wore me out," she complains.
Before you can reply, she suddenly leaps onto your back, her arms wrapping around your shoulders as she declares, "Guess you're carrying me home. Chop-chop!"
"V, what are you—" You stop mid-sentence, already knowing there's no point in arguing. With a sigh, you shift to steady her, your hands instinctively grabbing her legs to keep her from sliding off. "You're ridiculous."
"Ridiculously tired," she retorts with a smirk. "Now get moving, pack mule."
As you start walking, you can't help but notice how light she is—not exactly surprising, given her build. What is surprising, however, is the faint sensation against your back. Her heartbeat. You try to ignore it, but the steady rhythm is there, subtle but undeniable.
It doesn't help that your hands brush against her legs as you adjust your grip. She feels surprisingly warm, almost soft to the touch, and you swear you feel her heartbeat quicken slightly in response.
Neither of you says anything for a while, the quiet punctuated only by the sound of your footsteps. "Hey," she finally says, her voice quieter than usual, "you're... pretty good at this. Who knew you'd make a halfway decent taxi?"
You roll your eyes but can't stop the small smile creeping onto your face. "Glad to be of service. Should I start charging for this, or—"
She chuckles, interrupting you. "Nah, I'll just add it to your tab. Consider it payment for all the entertainment I provide."
You glance over your shoulder, only to catch a glimpse of her smirk before she looks away, her expression unreadable. The walk back to the apartment feels longer than usual, but not in a bad way.
By the time you finally reach the door, your shoulders ache, but the strange, fluttery feeling in your chest is somehow more distracting. You crouch slightly, letting V slide off your back.
She stretches again, shaking out her arms. "Not bad, rookie. I might keep you around after all."
"Gee, thanks," you reply dryly, though the teasing warmth in her tone takes the sting out of her words.
As you both step into the apartment, the earlier chaos of the day feels like a distant memory. And for a brief moment, the odd sense of normalcy between you almost feels... nice.
As soon as you close the door, V makes a beeline for the couch, leaping onto it with dramatic flair. She sprawls out in a way that somehow manages to look both relaxed and chaotic, her legs draped over one armrest as her head sinks into the cushions.
You chuckle at the sight, shaking your head. "Comfortable?"
She glances up at you with a grin, patting the spot next to her. "Come on, dummy. Movie night. My pick."
You raise an eyebrow, but you know better than to argue. You never thought you'd be watching movies with a disassembly drone, but here you are. "Alright, fine. But if it's terrible, I reserve the right to complain."
She snorts. "You think I care?" With that, she hops up and raids your modest VHS collection, scanning the titles with mock concentration.
"Let's see... ah, this one!" She pulls out a budget horror film you've never gotten around to watching, the kind with an overly dramatic title and a cover that promises more than it can deliver.
"Really?" you ask as she slides it into the VCR.
"Really," she replies with a smirk, settling the matter.
Before you can say anything else, she bounds back to the couch, landing with enough force to make the cushions jump. She stretches out again—but this time, her legs find their way right on top of yours.
You glance at her, half-expecting her to move them, but she just smirks at you, clearly daring you to say something.
"Comfortable?" you ask again, your tone a mix of exasperation and amusement.
"Very," she replies, turning her attention to the screen as the movie starts.
You sigh, shaking your head. You could shove her legs off, but... honestly, you're too tired to care. And maybe, just maybe, you don't mind the proximity as much as you'd like to admit.
As the movie plays, you catch yourself glancing at her out of the corner of your eye. Her usual sharp, confident demeanor seems to soften just a bit in the flickering glow of the screen, and for a moment, the chaos of the day feels like a distant memory.
"Hey," she says suddenly, not looking away from the screen, "don't fall asleep on me. You're the one who has to explain the plot twists."
You laugh quietly. "Plot twists? In this?"
"Shut up," she mutters, tossing a couch cushion at you without moving her legs, her smirk never fading.
The movie rolls on, full of over-the-top screams, questionable special effects, and music that tries far too hard to be suspenseful. It's exactly as ridiculous as you expected, but somehow, it's charming in its own way.
You shift slightly in your seat, letting your head rest against the back of the couch. Out of the corner of your eye, you swear you can feel V's gaze lingering on you. It's fleeting, like the faintest brush of a breeze, but enough to make you wonder.
You glance at her, trying to catch her in the act, but she's completely focused on the screen. Or at least, she looks like she is. Her expression is unusually neutral for her, though—no sarcastic smirks, no exaggerated reactions. Just her chin resting on her hand, eyes fixed on the chaos unfolding in front of her.
"Something wrong?" she asks suddenly, her voice casual.
You blink, quickly looking back at the movie. "Uh, no. Just... watching the movie."
She hums in response, clearly unconvinced but not pressing further.
You tell yourself it's nothing, just your imagination or maybe the fatigue from the day catching up with you. But every so often, that feeling returns—that subtle, almost imperceptible sense that her attention isn't entirely on the screen.
When you sneak another glance her way, she's still intently watching the movie. Or maybe she's just really good at pretending.
"Pay attention, dummy," she mutters without looking at you.
V's muttering fades into the background as the movie drags on, the over-the-top effects and corny dialogue doing little to hold your attention. Then it happens—a character on screen is impaled through the chest, a jagged pole piercing straight through them as their expression twists in agony.
Your breath catches. A sudden, clawing unease wraps around your chest like a vice. You try to ignore it, to tell yourself it's just a cheap scare in a budget horror flick, but the sensation doesn't let go. Panic wells up inside you, cold and consuming.
The image on the screen blurs as your vision falters, a heavy sense of déjà vu clawing at the edges of your mind. That wasn't just a scene in a movie—it felt familiar. Too familiar.
Your head pounds as memories—or maybe they're dreams, maybe nightmares—rise unbidden to the surface. You've seen something like this before, haven't you? Felt it before? A sharp, visceral pain in your chest, an overwhelming fear, and then...
Then what?
You can't piece it together, the fragments slipping through your fingers like sand. Your head feels like it's splitting in two, the pressure mounting as if something inside you is trying to claw its way out.
The voice comes back.
At first, it's faint, like the distant hum of static, but it grows louder with every passing second. The same voice that's been haunting you, whispering fragments of something you can't understand. Its words are garbled, incomprehensible, and yet they carry a weight that feels unbearable.
It scratches at your mind, relentless and cruel, filling every corner of your thoughts. You clutch the couch cushion, your grip tightening as you struggle to block it out. But the voice doesn't stop.
It grows louder, drowning out everything else—the movie, the room, even V's presence beside you. It's everywhere, wrapping around you like a suffocating fog.
The whispering builds into a cacophony, an overwhelming flood of sound and static, and it fills your head entirely. There's no room for anything else.
Just as your hands begin to rise toward your head, the pressure inside building to a point you swear you can't bear, V's hand shoots out, gripping one of yours tightly.
"Hey," she says, her voice unusually steady but tinged with concern. The noise in your head cuts out abruptly, like a switch has been flipped, and you find yourself staring at her glowing eyes, wide with worry. "What's going on? Are you okay?"
You blink rapidly, trying to ground yourself, but the weight of everything comes crashing down all at once. Your breath hitches, your voice trembling as you admit, "No. I'm... I'm not okay. I don't know what's wrong with me."
Your grip tightens around her hand, and she doesn't pull away. The words spill out, unfiltered. "I feel trapped—trapped in my own body, my own head. These dreams, these... memories. I don't even know if they're real, but they feel real. And it's like there's this—this voice—" You choke on the words, shaking your head. "I don't remember anything about my life before Copper-9. I don't even know who I am."
For a long moment, V doesn't say anything. Her thumb brushes over the back of your hand, almost absentmindedly, and her expression shifts to something you can't quite place. It's not her usual smugness, nor is it the kind of hollow amusement she throws out to deflect. It's softer, more conflicted.
"I..." She starts, then stops herself, her glowing eyes flicking away from yours. Her free hand clenches into a fist on her lap as if she's wrestling with something she can't say.
"Look," she finally mutters, her voice low and measured. "I don't know what's going on in that scrambled head of yours. But you're not alone, okay? You're here. Now. You've got... me."
The words come out uneven, almost hesitant, but the grip she has on your hand stays firm. "And for what it's worth, you're doing just fine."
You laugh weakly, the sound tinged with disbelief. "Yeah? Fine doesn't feel like this."
Her lips twitch, an almost-smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Then let's start small. You're here. You're alive. You've made it this far. That's gotta count for something."
The way she looks at you lingers, her gaze sharp but layered, like she's holding back more than she's saying. But she doesn't let go of your hand. Instead, her fingers squeeze yours, grounding you in a way that feels oddly... comforting. Like she's done this before..
"I don't have all the answers," she admits quietly, her voice dropping to something softer. "But I'm here. For now, let that be enough."
Her words are simple, but there's something in the way she says them—an edge of regret, of guilt, or maybe something else entirely. Regardless, her words come from a desire to comfort you.
And maybe it's enough for now. Her grip on your hand anchors you, pulling you back from the spiraling chaos in your head, and finally, your mind feels quiet.
Your hand tightens around V's, the sensation grounding you in a way you can't quite explain. It feels... right. Like her hand belongs there, like it's always belonged there. The realization is unsettling, sending a ripple of confusion through your thoughts.
Why the hell are you being calmed down by a Disassembly Drone of all things? Someone—no, something—that's supposed to embody death and destruction, a walking nightmare designed to tear you apart. And yet, here she is, her hand steady against yours, her thumb brushing gentle, rhythmic circles over your knuckles.
And why are you so okay with it?
The question gnaws at you, but the more you try to pull apart the tangled mess in your head, the more it resists, like the answer is hidden just beyond your reach. Maybe it's her smirk, softer now, lacking the sharp edges of mockery. Maybe it's the way her yellow eyes have dimmed ever so slightly, like she's letting her guard down, just for you.
Or maybe it's something deeper. Something you don't have the words for yet.
"Feeling better?" she asks, breaking the silence, her voice lower than before, as if she's afraid of shattering the fragile moment between you.
You nod, swallowing past the lump in your throat. "Yeah. A little."
Her smirk tilts into something more amused, the sharpness returning for just a moment. "Good. Can't have my favorite maintenance drone losing their mind on me. We can't both be insane. Who else would put up with me?"
You chuckle weakly, trying to match her energy. "Putting up with you is definitely a full-time job."
V snorts, leaning back slightly but not letting go of your hand. "And yet, you're still here. I must be doing something right."
Before you can respond, the front door bursts open with a loud slam, the sound ricocheting off the walls like a gunshot. You flinch, instinctively turning away from V as Uzi storms in.
She freezes mid-step, her purple gaze locking onto you and V sitting on the couch, the atmosphere still thick with the remnants of whatever just passed between you. Her eyes flick to your now-separated hands, narrowing with the precision of a laser scope.
"Ew," Uzi groans, dragging out the word with all the drama a disgusted teenager could muster. "What the absolute hell did I just walk in on? Gross. You two holding hands like some kind of—ugh!" She makes exaggerated gagging sounds, clutching her stomach for emphasis.
V's expression darkens instantly, her smirk replaced with a sharp, dangerous grin. "Keep it up, Uzi," she says, her voice dripping with venom, "and I'll personally make sure you never walk into anything again."
Uzi freezes, her hands raised in mock surrender. "Okay, geez! Relax, lovebirds. No need to threaten my life over your weird rom-com moment."
You bury your face in your hands, trying to will away the heat creeping up your neck. V, however, keeps her glare locked on Uzi, the faint hum of her wings activating briefly for emphasis.
"Fine," Uzi grumbles, clearly not wanting to push her luck. She crosses her arms and huffs. "Anyway, I didn't come here to witness... whatever that was. I've got a lead."
You and V both perk up at that, the tension in the room dissolving like vapor. "What kind of lead?" you ask cautiously, standing up as V leans back against the couch with a casual air, though you can tell she's listening intently.
Uzi's face splits into a manic grin, her eyes glinting with the kind of excitement that makes you immediately regret asking. "Oh, you're gonna love this one," she says, her tone practically buzzing with chaotic energy. "We're going on a field trip!"
You glance at V, who raises an eyebrow. "A... field trip?"
"Yup!" Uzi chirps, rocking back on her heels with a mischievous grin that could rival V's "Pack your tools, your courage, and maybe a barf bag or two. We leave tomorrow. This one's gonna be fun. MUAHAHAHA!"
You sigh, already bracing yourself for whatever madness is about to unfold. "Oh boy..."
V chuckles, standing and brushing past you. "Well, this should be good," she mutters, her usual smirk back in place.
Whatever Uzi's got planned, you're pretty sure "fun" isn't the word for it.