He'd once thought it'd stop stinging so much to do this, but he can still feel the shame of betraying New Wave's trust.
"Tell Lung he'll be getting his money this month, too," he says quietly.
He hates lying to them. But he's a doctor, and his job is to ensure the safety and well-being of his patients. If that means lying to a hero and making deals with a gang to keep the Empire out of his hospital, then he can live with that.
His hand twitches down to the lowest drawer of his desk again.
Interlude 2— Matthew Walsh
"They're back again."
Matt looks up from the computer, glancing out the window at the two girls who were just walking into the library hand-in-hand. They disappear deeper into the library, walking out of sight of the office windows and moving to one of the tables placed in a cozy place behind the stacks.
"Huh," he grunts. "Four weeks now. Good for them, I guess."
"I think it is." Jerry grins at him, hands still busy folding a sheet of protective plastic over one of the new books. Matt is briefly fascinated by the light shining from the man's bald head over the dividing screen between them, separating their workspaces from each other— and, more importantly, hiding the TV and DVD player they had stashed back there from prying eyes. "Good to see someone's getting some use outta the place. Might get them outta this shithole and into a place worth something, you know?"
He shrugs. "Not my daughter, not my problem," he replies. He does pull the register over to him and begins filling out the attendance sheets, though. Attendance to these after-school sessions is sparse enough that he can't afford to miss a single participant. Hard enough to get Blackwell to agree to pay the two of them to stay after-hours when there's only five people who attend them regularly. She'd probably just cut the hours entirely if he didn't mark down two of the five.
His computer chimes, drawing his attention to a notification on one of his taskbar icons— his email program. He groans when he opens it to find it's from Blackwell again. Another notification that the Wards bitch is going to be conducting one of her "regular searches" of the school's facilities over the week. The library is scheduled to be looked over... on Wednesday, apparently. Not that the girl actually does it as regularly as Blackwell claims— it's just another one of the tools she likes to use to try and keep everyone in line.
"Hey, Larry," he calls over his shoulder. "Blackwell says Stalker's gonna be doing another sweep of the library on Wednesday. Might want to get Kev to move his stash."
The bald man lets out a barking laugh. "God, that's what, the third one this month?"
"Second." He shakes his head. "One before that was at the end of last month. Still a pain in the ass, though."
"Yeah, you're tellin' me." Larry lets out an aggravated puff of air. "Kid's gonna move his stash if we keep makin' him move his stuff like this. Who're we gonna get our supplies from then?"
Matt shrugs. "There are plenty of dealers around the place," he reassures him. "I've been thinking of trying to find another dealer anyway, since Kevin keeps jacking up his prices."
"Dunno about that." The man tears a piece of sticky tape off the roll, placing it down on the final loose bit of covering on the book and triumphantly placing it in the completed stack. "From what he's been sayin', doesn't sound like there're many dealers around still gettin' a good supply goin'. Brotherhood's been havin' some issues with the ABB again, Lung keeps hittin' their suppliers or something."
Matt rolls his eyes in response to that. "So get another supplier," he returns. "Or not, I don't care. Fuck, whatever, prices'll fix themselves eventually. Just get Kev to move his stash so he doesn't get taken out like Oliver did, yeah?"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Larry replies dismissively. "Fuck, this is annoying. Wish Rune'd pop that bitch a good one already."
Unseen by Larry, his eyes narrow at that, actually offended. "Oi," he shoots back, trying to keep the annoyance from leaking into his voice. "Get off it, dude. You know she's doing our kids a favour keeping them away from this shit."
"Fuck," Larry says reluctantly, annoyance clear in his tone. "Yeah, god, fine, yeah, don't want Rico anywhere near this crap. Still a pain in the ass for us, though."
"Won't argue with that." Matt turns his concentration back to the email, ignoring whatever inane crap Larry's spouting now. He casually turns his head to check that Larry's still behind the divider, then hits the 'New E-Mail' button and types in an email address from memory.
Hey, it's Matt. Got Kevin to move his stash tomorrow as requested. Olivia's given him detention, so he should be up here between second and third. Cameras are set up if you can't make it. Hope this helps.
Hitting 'Send', he leans back in his chair and cracks his knuckles. "There we go," he replies, satisfied. "Told her Wednesday's all good for us. Work for you, Larry?"
There's the soft clump of another book being placed on the completed pile. "Yeah, sure. Ain't like we got much else to do, huh?"
Matt chuckles. "Well, I dunno about that. Yvette's brought me back some new DVD's from her trip up to New York. Ever heard of a movie called Transformers? Apparently a big thing over in Aleph. Cars that transform into fucking huge robots or some shit, blowing shit up all over the world."
"Huh." Larry sounds thoughtful. "Sounds like my kinda movie then. Guess it'll give us somethin' to do tomorrow after we finish cataloguin' these books, yeah?"
Matt's eye is caught by another email flashing on his computer, marked as being from '. He checks again to make sure Larry's still occupied putting covers on the books before pulling it up.
Your message has been received and approved. It has been sent on to the appropriate parties.
A copy of your message has been sent to Director Piggot of the Brockton Bay Parahuman Response Team for archival and review purposes.
Thank you for your contributions to our efforts here in Brockton Bay.
— Agent Daniels, PRT Identification Number 22147.
Do not reply to this email. If you have any further inquiries, please contact the Parahuman Response Team on one of the phone numbers provided.
"Yeah," Matt replies. "Sounds good, Larry."
1.17
Monday morning rolls around, bringing with it another wave of frost. The footpaths are slippery when you go for your jog that morning, forcing you to pick your path carefully so you can avoid slipping and falling painfully on your butt. Again. You've done that one too many times before.
The chill in the air does a good enough job at waking you up that you're not feeling tired by the time you stumble back home at seven, at least. Admittedly, you're pretty sure that your fingers are actually frozen now, and you're probably going be nursing your left hand for the rest of the day after you go to pick up your cup of coffee and realize it's actually really freaking hot, but it's almost worth it.
Still, even after showering and changing into your school clothes, you still feel half-frozen. You slide a jacket on over your clothes. It helps somewhat, but not as much as you'd like. At least the bus has a functioning heater half the time.
When you arrive at school for the day, nearly ten minutes earlier than normal (the bus driver was grumbling the whole time about someone called 'Will'; you're pretty sure they have a new boss who's pushing them to get to their routes on time) you're back to freezing your butt off. Winslow does have a heating system, but it's not perfect. It works about half the time during the day, and it's only really the classrooms that get warm. The hallways always end up freezing. Everyone just rushes through them as fast as possible to get to their next class.
The good thing about being so early for once, you discover, is that Madison doesn't have enough time to open your locker and slip your lunchbox inside before you can sneak up on her. The bad thing about that is that you're pretty sure she messes up your lunch when she shrieks and tosses your lunchbox in your locker after you slip your arms around her. But you find it hard to care about that, because— "Oh my god, Maddie," you exclaim. "How are you so warm?"
She relaxes after hearing your voice, turning around to look at you and wrap her own arms around you. The hallways are clear enough this early in the morning that it should be safe to hug for a few minutes, you decide. "I just wear warm clothes," she declares against your neck. "Like all not-silly people do."
You don't even care that she just called you a silly person. "No, but seriously, you're so warm," you say, amazed. "You're like a little space heater. I want to drag you around with me all day."
Her face heats up against your neck. You're not even a little ashamed.
"That might be hard," she says, "but I'll do my best and be a good little heater for you at lunch if you want."
You laugh quietly against her ear, causing her to redden even more. Interesting. "I'll make sure to hold you to that," you tease her. "I'll wrap us both up in your jacket so we can be even warmer."
She gasps. "Can you actually do that?!" she exclaims. "Taylor, if that's possible then we have to do that one day, okay?"
You laugh again, and she gives you an adorable smile. Your heart does a little flip, and you can't stop yourself from leaning down to give her a little kiss on the nose right there in the middle of school. Her face flushes, and she grins at you even wider. "Maybe one day," you assure her. "I'll take you out somewhere nice and private, and it'll be cold enough that we'll have to share my jacket. Might be a tight fit, though, we'll have to take our shirts off first so we can make sure we both have enough room in there..."
She's blushing so hard even her neck is turning red. Her expression is a little dazed as she tells you, "Taylor, this needs to happen."
"Okay," you agree easily. "If you want it, then I'll make it happen." You don't think you actually have a jacket large enough, but you're starting a new job tomorrow morning. You'll just make sure that's one of your first purchases. It's a weird fantasy for her to get hooked on, but you've had weirder, and if she gets off on it, then you don't see a reason not to do it for her.
She nods and tucks her head back against your collarbone. "Good," she murmurs. Then she stiffens and half-turns back to your locker. "Oh no, I think I ruined your lunch," she gasps.
"It's fine," you tell her. "I have something more delicious to occupy myself with now anyway." And you give her a quick lick on the neck to make it clear what you're talking about. She shivers, but still looks sadly at your locker.
"I spent so long on that brownie," she says mournfully. You chuckle and give her a quick kiss on the neck before reluctantly releasing her from your arms. Even more reluctantly, she lets you go, allowing you to take a step back and away from her.
"I'll see you in class, Maddie," you tell her. She nods, looking a little depressed. You're immediately tempted to step forward and wrap her in your arms again, but this time, you actually have to refrain.
At least it doesn't take long for class to arrive, less than twenty minutes. Madison greets you at the door with a thrilled little hug and allows you to drag her over to your seats, where she cuddles up to your side. The teacher rolls his eyes when he sees the two of you again, but he just lets out a long-suffering sigh and ignores the two of you. He must have something more important occupying his mind. It's nice to have your own little personal heater through the class, and Madison definitely doesn't mind you holding on to her. With Sophia sitting behind you, nobody dares say anything about the two of you in here.
Unfortunately, first period doesn't last forever, and you're eventually forced to let go of your little heater. She pouts at you as the two of you are dragged off to your next class, where you're forced to sit and freeze your butt off again.
Okay, maybe not freeze it, but damn it, it's just not warm enough now.
This uncomfortable state of affairs lasts until fourth period, where the presence of Sophia beside you is enough to drag your attention away from the frigid temperatures.
You're pretty sure that Sophia is actually taunting you. Ever since she was assigned to sit beside you, she's been wearing more and more provocative clothing every day you have Chemistry. It's a subtle thing— one day, her shirt was cut a little lower than normal, and the next day, she was wearing a skirt cut half an inch higher— but damn it, it's working. Every time you look at her, all you can see is the teasing glimpse of thigh disappearing up her skirt, the curved swell of her breasts, and the shape of her lips as she smirks at you. Damn it, damn it, you're going to have to concede this one to her— there's no way you can compete with her in the looks department, even if you started actually wearing skirts.
Idly, you wonder if there's a way you can lure her into a disused bathroom again. You want to get a proper taste of her, not some teasing kisses and nibbles that leave you as horny and unsatisfied as they do Sophia.
You're brought back to reality when she speaks. "You should probably pay attention to the lesson, Hebert." She smirks at you again when you blink, processing what she said.
You grin lecherously at her when you get the message. "But you're so much more interesting," you say in what you hope is a flirtatious manner.
She scoffs lightly, but she seems happy with your comment. "Yeah, trust me, I know that. It's actually pretty important today, though," she tells you. "I snuck a look at Knopf's lesson plan. She's got a group project planned for us."
"Ah." You slump down and lightly frown at her. "Well, fine. But if I have to pay attention now then you'd better give me something good to look at later."
Sophia crinkles her nose a little. Your scowl immediately falls off your face at the cute look. "Fine," she says crankily. "Just listen so you can get us both a good grade, Hebert." You raise an eyebrow at that— but, fine. If she wants to trade sexual favours for grades, well, you'll happily take that deal. She seems to realize the direction your thoughts take, because she rolls her eyes hard, but she doesn't try to take it back.
Sure enough, Mrs Knops does bring herself to stand in front of the class. "Good afternoon," she says calmly. "I have a project for you all today. It's a group project that I expect each of you to complete in your own time. If you need materials, see me after class. If for some reason you can't negotiate with your partner to meet after school, I've also booked the anteroom off the library after lunch each day. I expect you will need to work hard if you wish to complete your project during lunchtime."
