Hard Luck Hank Screw the Galaxy(47)

Jyen looked confused.

“So you’re not seeing anyone?”

“No,” I said plainly.

“Do you like men?” she shrugged, confused.

“Are those my only options?”

“Well, you seem to be really popular. I figure you could be with someone if you want, right?”

I looked around for our drinks.

“I’m just not really big on talking about myself. Tell me about you, Jyen. Where did you grow up?”

“A military laboratory, mostly. Once they found out about Jyonal, they locked us both up and worked on us. They thought I might have the same potential as he does, though I don’t. But they kept me around to keep Jyonal happy and to threaten me. I don’t know what happened to our parents. We never knew them. We didn’t even have any parental figures on the base, because the leadership kept changing.”

“Ah,” I said, now really looking for those drinks.

“So why don’t you like talking about yourself? You seem so interesting.”

“It just makes me uneasy. I don’t know.”

“Not even about the fights you’ve been in?”

“I honestly can’t remember them all that well. And The News exaggerates quite a bit.”

“It’s so wild beating up people is your work,” she said.

“That’s not all I do,” I said defensively. “I’m an arbitrator. There are all kinds of regular businesses on Belvaille too, you know.”

The server finally came and I snatched my little fruity drink in its goofy artistic glass like my life depended on it. Though I could probably drink a thousand of them and not feel a thing—other than my bladder rupturing.

“Cheers,” I said. And Jyen and I clinked glasses as Jyonal merely downed his.

I was saved from more awkward talk when Daavisim himself walked up.

“Hank, my friend, I haven’t seen you in ages.” He was dressed in a smart suit that had more flash than I was used to seeing on him—it literally had blinking waves of light. He didn’t wear it well. Presumably his club’s transformation had required him to adopt this new look and he wasn’t easy with it.

“Good to see you too,” I said.

He looked over at Jyen, waiting for an introduction. I said nothing.

“I’m Jyen,” she said, darting out her blue hand. “And this is my brother Jyonal. We’re good friends of Hank.”

“Hank’s friends are welcome here. Especially one so lovely,” Daavisim said. He then regarded Jyonal, expecting an acknowledgement, but found him staring blankly at the wall, so he returned to me. “If you have a moment could we talk, Hank?”

“Sure,” I said, standing immediately.

“Want me to refill your drink? What are you having, a Gofuse?”

“Yes,” I answered, quickly nudging my Fizzback closer to Jyen.

“Can I come?” Jyen asked, like we were going to play a game.

We both glanced at her and Daavisim raised an eyebrow at me.

“We’ll be right back. It will only take a minute, right?”

“Absolutely,” he said. “Some more drinks over here,” he snapped to his servers.

His office was small, modest. There were crates stacked along the walls. It smelled like boxes. I liked it.

“First, I want to thank you for all you’ve done for us recently. You need any help with your hospital costs?” he asked, after closing the door behind us.

It was the first time I’d thought about it.

“I think it was free. No one mentioned it,” I said.

“I’ve been getting a kick reading about your old stories in The News. Belvaille sure was a rough place a while ago.”

“Most of that stuff is made up,” I brushed it aside, wanting to get past the small talk.

“Is that your sweetheart out there?”

“Her? No, I barely remember her name,” I said.

“Jyen, I think she said.”

“Hmm. So what’s up?”

“Do you think I could get a hit done?” he asked plainly. He sat on the front of his desk with his arms folded. There was a chair behind the desk, but it was covered in junk.

“You’re kidding,” I said, surprised. “You were at the meeting. No fighting.”

“This is a special case. Oluv-Jos.”

He laid the name out there with finality. I struggled with it a bit.

“Oh, Ddewn’s guy?” I remembered.

“That’s the one. He knocked over my register, took a decent bit of change.”

“After the meeting?” I was shocked. The guy must be suicidal.

“No. No.” Daavisim stood and looked around for someplace else to sit, saw there was none, and sat back down on his desk. “I think a few days before. But still.”