Bode, Interrupted

[Nesrin Aziz]

There was one thing still bothering her; the damn puzzle box. It was the only memento she had of the theft, and despite having watched the Archivist open it with ease, she still hadn’t worked out the trick to the mechanism herself. Not that there was anything inside the keyring anymore, but still: it irritated her, a mystery she couldn’t solve. She idled on it sometimes when the bar was quiet, especially between the teaser shows when there were less interesting diversions to watch. She’d even dangled it in front of Nissa one time like bait, but after a brief attempt to figure it out, she only chucked it back with a shrug.

Nesrin was friendly with everyone here, but she’d made no real attempt to be close. She didn’t spend much time in the club during the day either, not once she discovered exactly why Carmen presumed she was one of Nox’s “strays.” Watching the girls exploring the power was interesting enough, but she could just as well watch that during the shows, and she was reticent to reveal her own gift by chance. Or at least not encourage the open dialogue if any of them already knew. Add to that, she might be ruthless when it came to her own survival, but even she didn’t relish the idea of letting herself get close to a bunch of messed up kids. Not when her pretence here was only ever going to be temporary. 

So for the next few days the daylight hours were her own and her nights were Kallisti’s. After the tease and dare with Wicked she frequently raided the dressing room before a shift, in part because it was easy and no one stopped her, and in part because it was an excuse to don a different character each night – to amuse herself as much as anyone else. Wicked himself usually remained tucked up in the room upstairs while she was working. But the heat seemed largely off her, and her feet were already itching to move on. She had another luxury apartment lined up, and myriad plans spinning off in her brain, but she also knew triumph made her over-confident and it was better to be certain before she disappeared from the haven Kallisti offered. A new gif floated around the darkweb despite her better judgement; the devil clad Hello Kitty waggling the cylindrical-like shape of the key, before blowing a kiss and disappearing in a cute puff of pink smoke. It risked annoying the Auctioneer, but she hated the idea of everyone thinking m’Antinomian had won when they pulled down the auction.

The club was quiet tonight, still too early for much interest, and habit clocked every patron who walked through the grand doors to be ushered to their own little oasis of decadence. For various reasons his was a face she recognised, at least in principle, owing to her discomforting encounter with Vena Shah. As a result she intended to simply avoid all of the Marveets, just in case. But a sticker on his arm caught the attention beneath her lashes as she lounged at the bar. Anyone with one foot in the darkweb and who’d seen the auction or her later retaliation would know Bode had commandeered the character for her purposes. That included any of Emissary’s cult-like followers, which was the reason for the initial cold ice in her veins when she saw it. But she could only think of one person who might have any reason to be pissed off about it though.

And that was Voxel, from whom she’d stolen the original.

Nesrin tucked away the puzzle box. Her heart was suddenly racing in a mixture of thrill, alarm, and a burning curiosity. It wouldn’t be difficult to slip out the back, avoid the situation entirely. But she wanted to know why he’d come here wearing that sticker like a fuck you – because only Wicked knew where Bode was, or so she’d had every reason to believe before tonight. It could just be the coincidence of a weird fetish of course. But it wasn’t just fear of reprisal that compelled her; it was the calculation of what opportunity might be gleaned in the moment, and whether she was prepared to let that slip through her fingers. Voxel’s identity was no small thing, if she was correct about it; even if it was just a secret whispered in utter satisfaction in his unsuspecting ear.

She glanced across at Nissa, who was busy preparing a drinks order Nesrin probably ought to be helping with. Claire was chatting to her, their voices too low to carry. Nesrin slipped away without another thought. No one saw the smirk on her lips.

When she reemerged she took a wide route, which wasn’t hard, since all of the seating was arranged towards the bar’s stage. Jaxen had been given an entire circle booth to lounge in alone. Maybe he was a regular, or maybe daddy’s recent promotion provided the perk. Not that it mattered either way, and all the better if he was comfortable here. 

Carmen never asked about her experience, and while Nesrin never hid that she was an open and sometimes sly flirt, she never disabused the notion that sweet “Ness” was best suited for work tucked behind the bar, and not out amongst the customers looking for more individual attention. Her hand trailed up Jaxen’s shoulder as she passed him from behind, the other shifting a silk scarf from around her own neck. From her vantage she could see the hint of a tattoo worked into his skin, but she didn’t pause for him to twist to see who teased for his attention. She wasn’t supposed to touch the patrons. Or maybe they weren’t supposed to touch her – she couldn’t actually remember, and she didn’t really care. Kallisti was all about visuals. It was sensuality of the flesh meant to ignite the imagination. So she took it away when the silk brushed its path along his eyes, still warm from her body. The gesture was soft enough that he could pull it free without much effort if he chose, even as she firmed the knot behind his head so that it would not slip when she let go. It was an invitation, not a demand.

Afterwards she leaned behind him, arms resting along the quilted edge of the backrest. For as long as he played along, he was deprived of everything but the allure of a stranger’s presence, and the dulcet tones of her voice whispered close into his ear. She peeled the sticker from his shoulder – not subtly this time, just slowly – and reached over to slip it inside the loose V of his shirt, against the skin of his chest. She made a little circle with her finger against the sticker. “I think this belongs to me now,” she told him.