# ACE 162.1 — THE OTHER END # CHAPTER 1 — SAME NIGHT Mandi found the noodles. This should not have been important. It became important because Mandi had spent nearly ten minutes accusing an unknown member of the safehouse of stealing them, another four constructing what she described as a “credible criminal profile,” and approximately thirty seconds discovering the container behind a bottle she herself had moved the previous morning. Nobody said anything. That was worse. Mandi stood in front of the open refrigerator holding the container. Dalia sat at the kitchen counter with one elbow resting beside an untouched glass, menthol lollipop between her lips, expression perfectly neutral. Deja leaned against the opposite side of the counter. Ivory. Venom. Warm brown eyes. Collar still around her throat. The leash crossed the narrow space between them and disappeared into Dalia’s hand. Mandi looked at the noodles. Then at both women. “They were obstructed.” Dalia slowly removed the lollipop from her mouth. “You put them there.” “That has not been established.” Deja looked at the container. Then at Mandi. “You wrote your name on the lid.” Mandi looked down. MANDI. Large letters. Orange marker. A tiny heart beneath them. She immediately put the container on the counter. “Evidence can be fabricated.” Deja’s mouth twitched. Dalia put the lollipop back between her lips. “You accused me.” “You had motive.” “What motive?” “You like noodles.” Dalia stared. Deja folded her arms. “Mandi.” “What?” “You also accused the refrigerator.” Mandi pointed at her. “It was behaving suspiciously.” For half a second Deja managed to hold the expression. Then she laughed. Not Kiro’s usual sharp little release. Something easier. Open enough that the softer face Lena had built around her seemed to agree with it instead of fighting it. Mandi watched her. Dalia watched her too. Deja noticed both. Her laughter stopped. “What?” “Nothing,” Mandi said. “That was absolutely something.” Dalia’s fingers shifted against the leash handle. Barely. No pull. Just movement. Deja’s attention flicked toward it automatically. Then back. Mandi saw that too. Her grin softened. Not disappeared. Softened. “You kept it.” Deja looked down at the leash. “Yes.” “The collar too.” “Yes.” “The face.” “Yes.” “Hair.” “Yes, Mandi.” “Eyes.” Deja stared at her. Mandi held up both hands. “I’m inventorying.” “You’re being annoying.” “Also true.” Dalia leaned back slightly. “You could stop helping.” “I am helping.” “No one has requested help.” “That’s why it’s generous.” Deja snorted. The safehouse had gone quiet around them. Not empty. Late. Most of the city noise had softened into the constant distant machinery of Night City refusing to sleep properly. Colored light from outside slid across the kitchen glass and caught differently in each cover. Orange in Mandi’s hair. Pink along Dalia’s. A deep green edge through Deja’s that looked almost black until she moved. Mandi retrieved the noodles. She opened the container. Dalia looked at her. “You already ate.” “I worked.” “You worked once.” “Professionally.” “That does not alter metabolism.” “It should.” Deja watched Mandi find a fork. “You really just did that.” Mandi looked up. “Ate noodles?” “No.” Mandi paused. The fork stopped halfway toward the container. Dalia’s eyes moved to Deja. Deja looked toward the kitchen glass. Her own reflection looked back. Still Deja. Not Kiro wearing something. Deja. That had become harder to dismiss over the last few hours. “You were walking with us,” Deja said. “Then somebody asked if Dalia was working.” Mandi nodded slowly. “She wasn’t.” “So you said you were.” “Yes.” “And two minutes later you were gone.” “Approximately.” Deja looked at her. “That’s insane.” Mandi smiled. “It’s Jig-Jig.” “That is not an explanation.” “It’s a very complete explanation.” Dalia took the lollipop out again. “No. She’s asking something else.” Mandi’s attention shifted. Deja’s did too. Dalia looked between them. “She’s asking how you decided that fast.” Mandi studied Deja for a second. The playfulness remained. But underneath it, something else arrived. Attention. The same shift Deja had seen on the street. Subtle. Professional. She noticed it immediately now. Mandi put the noodles down. “I wanted to.” Deja waited. Mandi shrugged one shoulder. “She was attractive. She knew what she wanted. Nothing she said hit a boundary. She didn’t push when Dalia said no. She knew how this works.” “That’s enough?” “For accepting the conversation?” “Yes.” “For accepting the booking?” Mandi shook her head. “No.” Deja’s eyebrows lifted. Mandi leaned one hip against the counter. “The conversation tells me whether I want to keep talking. Then I find out what she expects. I tell her what I will and won’t do. She tells me what she will and won’t do. If there’s a match, we agree on time and price.” “And then?” “Then I work.” Deja looked at Dalia. Dalia said nothing. Mandi noticed. “So.” Deja looked back at her. “So what?” Mandi picked up the fork again. “You’ve been thinking about it since Lizzie’s.” Deja’s expression went still. Dalia’s did not change. That somehow confirmed everything. Mandi took one bite of noodles. Chewed. Waited. Deja looked at Dalia. “You two talked about this.” “No,” Dalia said. Mandi swallowed. “She has eyes.” “Unfortunately,” Deja muttered. “Black ones tonight.” “Shut up.” Mandi smiled. The joke passed. The question did not. Deja pushed away from the counter and walked toward the couch. The leash followed. Dalia stood without hesitation. Not because she had to. Because Deja moved. The line stayed loose between them as they crossed the safehouse. Mandi watched. For once, she did not comment. Deja sat at one end of the couch. Dalia took the other, turned slightly toward her, and let the leash rest across one thigh. Visible. Easy. Mandi arrived carrying the noodles and dropped into the chair opposite them. Deja looked at her. “You’re bringing those?” “I found them.” “You lost them.” “Historical revisionism.” Dalia sighed. Mandi ate another bite. Silence settled. This time nobody tried to fill it immediately. Deja touched one finger to the edge of the collar. Not nervous. Thinking. The gesture had become natural faster than she expected. Dalia noticed without looking down. Mandi noticed because Mandi noticed everything when she stopped pretending not to. Eventually Deja said: “It looked easy.” Mandi’s eyebrows rose. “Working?” “Yeah.” “It isn’t.” “I figured.” Mandi put the container on her knee. “It can be easy with the right client.” “That sounds contradictory.” “It isn’t.” Dalia leaned back. “Easy does not mean passive.” Deja looked at her. Dalia continued. “You saw Mandi for two minutes before she left.” “I saw enough.” “No,” Mandi said. Not defensive. Just factual. “You saw the visible part.” Deja’s gaze shifted back. Mandi rested the fork against the container. “I was already reading her before I said I was available.” “When?” “When she walked up.” Deja frowned. “She was talking to Dalia.” “Exactly.” Mandi smiled slightly. “How somebody handles hearing no tells you a lot.” That landed. Deja remembered it. The woman had asked Dalia. Dalia had declined. No pressure. No argument. No attempt to negotiate around the answer. Then Mandi had offered herself. Not before. After. Deja nodded slowly. Mandi continued. “I watched how she looked at us. Whether she touched without asking. Whether she treated Dalia saying no like an inconvenience. Whether she was sober enough to know what she was doing. Whether she was interested in me or just interested in getting somebody.” Deja’s fingers stopped at the collar. “That fast.” “You do worse things to packet traffic in less time.” “That’s data.” “People are data with opinions.” Dalia turned her head toward Mandi. “That may be the most Ace thing Mandi has ever said.” Mandi looked offended. “I contain multitudes.” “You contain noodles.” “They’re excellent noodles.” Deja laughed under her breath. Then went quiet again. Mandi let her. That was another thing Deja noticed. Mandi could be impossible for hours. But when something actually mattered, she knew when not to push. Dalia already knew. That was part of why this conversation felt unfair. They both knew things Deja was only beginning to formulate. She looked at the leash stretched across Dalia’s thigh. “I liked tonight.” Dalia’s fingers closed a little more securely around the handle. “I know.” “I liked people looking.” Mandi nodded. “I know.” Deja glared. Mandi made a zipper motion across her mouth. Deja continued. “I liked this.” Her fingertips touched the collar. Then indicated the leash. Dalia’s expression softened. “I know.” Deja exhaled. “I liked not having to think about where we were going every thirty seconds.” Dalia stayed very still. “I know.” Deja looked at her. “You’re going to keep saying that?” “Only when I know.” “Annoying.” “Yes.” Mandi lifted the fork. “You’re both adorable.” Two heads turned toward her. She lowered the fork again. “Hostile environment.” Deja looked down. The collar. The ivory fabric. Her own hands. Then at the faint reflection in the dark window across the room. She liked Deja. That much had become obvious. Maybe uncomfortably obvious. But Mandi had asked something else without quite asking it yet. Deja looked back at her. “Say it.” Mandi’s expression became innocent. “What?” “The thing you’ve been circling.” “I don’t circle.” “You orbit with intent.” Dalia made a small approving sound. Mandi pointed at her. “Do not encourage her.” “Too late.” Deja leaned back. “Ask.” Mandi studied her for another second. Then the joking disappeared completely. Not dramatically. Just gone. “When somebody looked at you tonight,” she said, “did you want them to want Deja?” Deja answered easily. “Yes.” Mandi nodded once. “When somebody asked if you were working, did you like hearing the question?” A smaller pause. “Yes.” “Did you like knowing they thought you could be?” Deja looked at Dalia. Then back. “Yes.” Mandi set the noodles aside. “And do you actually want someone to book you?” The safehouse became very quiet. No city noise disappeared. No lights changed. Nothing dramatic happened. But Deja felt the question land differently from every version she had asked herself. Not: Could I? Not: Would I be good at it? Not: Would Dalia stay? Those answers were easier. Mandi had asked the only one that mattered. Deja looked at her reflection again. Soft face. Warm eyes. Dark venom hair. Ivory collar. The leash leading from her throat to Dalia’s hand. Deja. Not Kiro pretending not to be curious. Not an operation. Not a sculpt. Not somebody else’s idea. Someone she had built deliberately and then discovered she liked inhabiting. But a booking was something else. A stranger paying. Expecting her attention. Expecting her to be good at something Mandi and Dalia had turned into genuine professional skill long before Deja started imagining herself anywhere near it. Dalia could stay. Dalia could hold the leash. Dalia could carry the structure. But the client would still be booking **Deja**. Deja rubbed one thumb slowly against the side of her index finger. Mandi waited. Dalia waited. Neither rescued her. Good. Deja looked at Mandi. “I don’t know.” Mandi nodded immediately. No disappointment. No grin. “Good.” Deja frowned. “Good?” “That was a real answer.” Dalia’s thumb moved once across the leash handle. Deja felt something in her shoulders loosen. Mandi picked up the noodles again. “Also means we can stop talking about it tonight.” Deja stared. “You dragged me into this conversation.” “Yes.” “And now you’re stopping it.” “Yes.” “You’re an asshole.” “Professionally.” Dalia laughed. Deja looked from one to the other. Then down at the leash. The question was still there. But it no longer felt like an emergency requiring immediate resolution. That helped. Mandi ate another bite. Dalia put the menthol lollipop back between her lips. The safehouse settled. Deja leaned farther into the couch. Still wearing the face. Still wearing the collar. Still attached to Dalia. Still maybe. For tonight, maybe was enough. --- # CHAPTER 2 — WANTING DEJA IS NOT WANTING THE JOB Morning did not make the question smaller. It only made it quieter. Deja woke before anyone else in the room moved. For several seconds she stayed still, eyes open, staring at the ceiling and listening to the safehouse breathe around her. Nothing felt wrong. That was useful information. The face mesh was still on. The warm brown-amber contacts were still in. Her venom-green hair lay partly across the pillow, dark enough in the low light to look almost black. The collar remained around her throat. The leash did not. That had been Deja’s decision sometime after midnight, when she had finally admitted that sleeping attached to Dalia was less romantic than it was likely to become a strangulation hazard. Dalia had accepted the request without comment. No disappointment. No teasing. Just one quiet click. Then she had set the leash on the bedside table where Deja could see it. That had mattered more than Deja wanted to analyze before coffee. She rolled onto her side. Dalia was still asleep. Without the neon lights of Jig-Jig or the safehouse kitchen, the cover looked different. Less performative. More intimate. The neon-pink hair was impossible to make subtle, but in sleep Dalia’s face lost most of the controlled public confidence she carried outside. The whiskey-and-smoke voice was absent. The menthol lollipop was nowhere in sight. Mai under Dalia. Still Dalia. Both. Deja understood that better now. She touched the collar with two fingers. Yesterday, she had wanted to know whether she liked being Deja. She had learned that answer faster than expected. Yes. She liked the face. She liked the hair. She liked the eyes. She liked the way strangers read her differently. She liked the collar. She liked the leash. She liked the small reduction in decision pressure when Dalia held the other end. None of that had changed overnight. The other question remained. Someone paying for her. Someone looking at Deja and saying: You. Not because they knew Kiro. Not because they were already inside the Safehouse orbit. Not because Dalia had introduced them. Because Deja was available. That thought did something strange inside her. Not fear. Not exactly excitement either. Possibility. Which was somehow worse. Dalia moved beside her. One eye opened. Warm green met warm brown. “Morning.” Deja’s mouth moved before she decided what tone to use. “You look ridiculous when you wake up.” Dalia blinked. Then slowly looked offended. “That is the first thing you say to me?” “It was available.” Dalia stared. Deja smiled. There it was again. The difference. Kiro would have softened the line. Or buried it inside a technical complaint. Deja simply said it. Dalia noticed. Of course she did. Her expression changed. Not concern. Interest. “Sharp.” Deja frowned. “What?” “Nothing.” “That was not nothing.” Dalia rolled onto her back. “You’re different when you’re Deja.” Deja’s hand went still on the collar. “Different how?” “Not less you.” “That sounded carefully phrased.” “It was.” Deja waited. Dalia looked at the ceiling. “You say things faster.” “That is not necessarily a virtue.” “I didn’t say it was.” “Coward.” Dalia laughed softly. “You filter less.” Deja thought about that. “Maybe the face helps.” “Maybe.” “People expect softer.” Dalia turned her head again. “And then?” Deja’s mouth curved. “And then they get me.” “No.” Deja lifted one eyebrow. Dalia smiled. “They get Deja.” That landed. Deja looked away. “Annoying.” “Yes.” A voice from the doorway: “Extremely.” Both turned. Mandi stood there carrying coffee. Hair already violently orange. Black contacts in. Completely awake in a way no decent person should be. Deja narrowed her eyes. “How long have you been standing there?” “Long enough.” “That answer should be illegal.” Mandi walked in and handed one cup to Dalia. The second went to Deja. Deja took it. Sniffed. Looked at Mandi. “Actual coffee?” “I contain multitudes.” “You contain theft.” “The noodles were mine.” “You accused the refrigerator.” “It had motive.” Dalia closed her eyes. Mandi sat on the edge of the bed. Deja looked at her. “You’re sitting there.” “Yes.” “Why?” “Because we need to talk.” Deja stared. Mandi smiled. “Relax. Not a serious serious talk.” “That distinction is doing no work.” Mandi took a drink. “Last night you said you didn’t know.” “I remember.” “Good.” “Were you worried I’d suffered memory loss?” “Not until you asked that.” Deja looked at Dalia. “Why is she like this?” Dalia drank coffee. “Environmental damage.” Mandi pointed at her. “Hostile household.” Deja took a sip. Then another. The coffee was good. That also felt suspicious. Mandi waited until Deja had enough caffeine to become legally responsible for herself. Then: “You like Deja.” Deja looked at her. “Yes.” “You like the collar.” “Yes.” “The leash.” “Yes.” “Being looked at.” Deja paused. Then: “Yes.” “Being wanted.” Another pause. “Yes.” Mandi nodded. “And you liked watching me work.” Deja frowned slightly. “More than I expected.” “That’s not the same thing.” “I know.” “Good.” Deja stared at her. Mandi’s tone had changed again. Not Mandi-the-disaster. Not Mandi-the-performer. Professional Mandi. It was strange how quickly she could move between them. “You can like all of that,” Mandi said, “and still hate the job.” Deja leaned back against the headboard. “I know.” “Do you?” “Yes.” Mandi studied her. Deja sighed. “Fine. Explain it.” Mandi smiled. “Gladly.” Dalia groaned. Deja looked between them. “What?” Dalia shook her head. “Nothing.” “That means something.” “It means you invited a lecture.” “I asked for an explanation.” “With Mandi those are often the same thing.” Mandi ignored her. “A client isn’t there to watch you explore Deja.” Deja’s expression sharpened. “They’re there for themselves.” “Yes.” “Obviously.” Mandi held up one finger. “Intellectually obvious.” Deja waited. “Emotionally different.” That stopped her. Mandi leaned forward slightly. “You can enjoy being desired without enjoying being responsible for somebody else’s experience.” Deja’s fingers tightened around the coffee cup. Mandi continued. “A good client can make the work easy.” “Easy how?” “Clear communication. Good boundaries. Knows what they want. Pays attention. Doesn’t push.” “Like the woman last night.” “Yes.” “But even then?” “Even then you’re working.” Deja looked at Dalia. Dalia nodded. “You’re watching them.” Mandi continued. “Not surveillance-watching.” Deja gave her a look. “Thank you for clarifying.” “You know what I mean.” “Unfortunately.” Mandi smiled. “You’re tracking comfort. Whether something changed. Whether they’re actually enjoying what they said they wanted. Whether they’re trying to impress you instead of being honest.” Deja’s expression grew more serious. “What if they don’t know?” “Then you help them figure it out.” “How?” Mandi shrugged. “Questions. Slowing down. Changing direction. Sometimes telling them no before they realize they should.” Deja looked at her. “That sounds…” “Like work?” “Yes.” “Exactly.” Dalia rested one hand on Deja’s leg. Not reassurance. Presence. Deja looked down at it. Mandi’s voice softened. “And you have to be able to do that while still being yourself.” “Deja.” “Yes.” “Not Kiro.” Mandi’s smile returned. “Unless Kiro wants overtime.” Deja looked at her. “That was terrible.” “Still true.” Dalia hid a smile behind her cup. Deja leaned back. “So the difference is responsibility.” “Partly.” “What else?” Mandi thought. “Attention.” “I have attention.” Dalia made a small sound. Deja turned. “What?” “You have analytical attention.” “That sounds insulting.” “It wasn’t.” Mandi nodded. “She’s right.” “That is worse.” Mandi continued. “You’re very good at seeing what people do.” Deja said nothing. “You need to be good at seeing what they need.” “That sounds dangerously close to mind-reading.” “It isn’t.” “What if they don’t say?” “Then you don’t assume.” That answer came instantly. Deja nodded. Good. Mandi saw the approval. “Consent isn’t a puzzle.” “Good.” “It’s not your job to solve somebody against their will.” “Good.” “It is your job to notice when they stop being clear.” Deja looked down at the coffee. That made sense. More than she expected. Dalia’s fingers moved once against her leg. “Also,” Dalia said, “there’s pacing.” Deja looked at her. “Not everything needs to happen because it can.” “Okay.” “Some clients want time.” “Company.” “Yes.” “Conversation.” “Yes.” Mandi grinned. “Food.” Deja looked at her. “You got booked for food?” “I have been booked for stranger things.” Dalia stared. Mandi reconsidered. “Not the best phrasing.” Deja laughed. Mandi pointed at her. “See? Premium experience.” “That was pity.” “I accept payment in all emotional currencies.” Dalia shook her head. Deja let the laughter settle. Then: “What happens if I like the client?” Mandi answered first. “Enjoy it.” The simplicity caught Deja off guard. “That’s it?” “What else?” “I don’t know.” “You’re allowed to enjoy your work.” Deja looked at Dalia. Dalia nodded. “Very much.” Mandi smiled. “Honestly, it helps.” Deja raised an eyebrow. “That sounded suspiciously obvious.” “It is obvious.” “Then why say it?” “Because people get weird about money.” Deja thought about that. Mandi continued. “Getting paid doesn’t make your attraction fake.” Dalia added: “And attraction doesn’t make the agreement disappear.” Deja looked between them. There. That was the shape of it. Not pretending. Not performing desire she did not feel. Not becoming passive because Dalia held the structure. Not turning every client into somebody she wanted personally. Work. Real desire when it existed. Professional attention when it did not. Boundaries either way. Deja drank the rest of her coffee. Mandi watched her. Dalia watched her. Deja looked at the leash on the bedside table. Then at the collar. Then back at both women. “Okay.” Mandi tilted her head. “Okay what?” “I understand the distinction.” “That was not the question.” “I know.” Dalia’s expression softened. Deja exhaled. “I still want to know.” Mandi’s grin started. Deja held up one finger. “Do not.” Mandi froze. “I said I want to know.” The room quieted. Deja continued. “That does not mean I’m agreeing to a full shift.” Dalia nodded. “Of course.” “One client.” Mandi’s grin disappeared again. Not because she disliked the answer. Because she understood its weight. Deja looked at Dalia. “You stay.” “Yes.” “The entire time.” “Yes.” “If I want out—” “We leave.” “No discussion first.” “No.” “No ‘maybe ten more minutes.’” “No.” “No explaining it to the client.” “No.” Deja held her gaze. Dalia held hers. Then Deja looked at Mandi. “One.” Mandi nodded. “One.” Deja looked toward the leash. Dalia followed her gaze. Neither moved yet. That mattered. Deja took one slow breath. Then looked back at them. “After that, I decide again.” Dalia smiled. “Exactly.” Mandi leaned back. “Good.” Deja narrowed her eyes. “That sounded smug.” “It wasn’t.” “It absolutely was.” “Maybe a little.” Dalia laughed. Deja shook her head. The decision did not feel dramatic. That surprised her. No thunder. No sudden certainty. No transformation. Just one line crossing quietly inside her. Yesterday, Deja had been curious whether somebody might want to book her. Today, she wanted to know what it felt like when someone actually did. One client. Then she would decide again. That was enough. --- # CHAPTER 3 — WORKING WORKING? Brenda noticed the hair first. That was not surprising. The hair was difficult to miss. Dark venom green under the safehouse lights, nearly black until Deja moved her head and the color surfaced along the edges like poison under glass. Brenda stopped halfway through pouring coffee. The stream continued for approximately half a second longer than necessary. Iris reached over without looking and nudged the mug back under it. “Brenda.” “I know.” “You’re pouring coffee on the counter.” “I know.” “You’re still doing it.” Brenda corrected the angle. The coffee landed in the mug again. Problem solved. Technically. Her eyes remained fixed across the kitchen. Deja sat at the table. Not Kiro. Not vaguely Kiro with different hair. Deja. The softer face mesh was still on. Warm brown-amber eyes instead of gray. Ivory top. Collar visible above the neckline. Dalia sat beside her, already fully Dalia despite the hour, neon-pink hair apparently immune to morning dignity. The menthol lollipop had not yet appeared, but that felt temporary. Mandi occupied the other side of the table with a bowl of something she had constructed from leftovers and poor judgment. Brenda stared. Mandi looked up. “Morning.” Brenda did not answer. Iris finished pouring her own coffee. “Don’t.” Brenda finally looked at her. “I haven’t said anything.” “You’re thinking loudly.” “That is not a real thing.” “It is with you.” Brenda looked back at the table. Deja raised one eyebrow. The face was softer. The eyebrow somehow was not. “Morning, Brenda.” Brenda blinked. The voice was Kiro’s. That made the whole thing worse. Or better. She had not decided. “Morning.” A pause. Deja waited. Brenda drank coffee. Deja kept waiting. Mandi looked between them with visible delight. Dalia looked like somebody had already accepted that the next ten minutes were going to be useless. Brenda took another drink. Then: “So.” Iris closed her eyes. Brenda pointed at her. “That is one word.” “It was the way you said it.” “I said ‘so.’” Deja’s mouth moved slightly. Mandi leaned forward. “No, let her continue.” Dalia looked at her. “Why?” “Science.” Brenda ignored both of them. “So.” Deja folded her hands around her mug. “Yes?” “You’re still…” Brenda gestured vaguely. Deja looked down at herself. “Female?” Mandi choked. Dalia’s eyes closed. Iris looked away very quickly. Brenda stared at Deja. “That was not what I meant.” “You need more precise variables.” “Oh, fuck you.” Deja smiled. There. Brenda pointed. “That.” “What?” “That is Kiro.” “No,” Dalia said. Brenda looked at her. Dalia’s expression had become quietly amused. “That’s Deja.” Brenda frowned. “She sounds like Kiro.” “She kept her voice.” “I know that.” “Then why are we having this conversation?” “Because her face looks like she apologizes when somebody bumps into her.” Deja took a slow sip of coffee. Then said: “I’d probably apologize after checking whether they still had their wallet.” Brenda paused. Mandi put both hands flat on the table. “Oh, she’s getting worse.” “Better,” Dalia corrected. “Debatable.” Deja looked at Mandi. “You’re just jealous because I can look innocent while insulting people.” Mandi put a hand to her chest. “I look innocent.” Nobody spoke. Mandi looked around the table. “This household is abusive.” Iris finally sat beside Brenda. “That was unusually unanimous.” Brenda was still studying Deja. Not rudely. Mostly. Her gaze dropped to the collar. Deja noticed. Brenda immediately looked back at her coffee. Iris noticed that too. “Brenda.” “What?” “Don’t interrogate.” “I am not interrogating.” “You haven’t started yet.” “Exactly.” “That is not reassuring.” Dalia reached toward the counter and retrieved the leash. Brenda’s eyes snapped back instantly. Dalia did not make a show of it. She simply took the clip, looked at Deja, waited. Deja tilted her chin slightly. Click. The sound was tiny. Brenda’s expression became completely blank. Iris slowly turned toward her. Brenda lifted one finger. “I am still not saying anything.” “Remarkable restraint.” “Thank you.” “That wasn’t praise.” Dalia settled the leash loosely beside her hand. No tension in it. No command. Just there. Deja took another drink. Brenda’s eyes tracked the line once. From collar. Across the table edge. To Dalia’s hand. Then back. Mandi was openly watching Brenda now. Brenda caught her. “What?” “Nothing.” “You look delighted.” “I am.” “Why?” “Because normally you’re the one making other people uncomfortable.” Brenda pointed at Deja. “She has a leash.” Deja looked down. Then back up. “Excellent diagnostic work.” Iris coughed into her coffee. Brenda stared at her. “Did you just laugh?” “No.” “You absolutely did.” “I have no idea what you mean.” Mandi leaned toward Deja. “See? Safehouse corruption.” Dalia finally produced the menthol lollipop from somewhere. Brenda noticed that too. “Where do you keep those?” Dalia looked at her. “Classified.” “That answer made it worse.” “Good.” The breakfast settled into motion. Food moved. Coffee disappeared. Mandi stole half of something from Dalia’s plate and denied doing it while still chewing. Deja watched the exchange with the expression of someone gathering ammunition. Brenda managed almost three full minutes without asking another question. Then Dalia said: “We’ll leave around seven.” Brenda froze. Iris saw it immediately. “For what?” Nobody answered quickly enough. Brenda’s eyes moved from Dalia to Mandi. Then Deja. Then the collar. Then the leash. Her face changed. Not understanding. Almost understanding. Then understanding far too much. “Oh.” Mandi smiled into her coffee. Brenda pointed slowly at Deja. “Wait.” Deja waited. “You’re going back to Jig-Jig.” “Yes.” “Tonight.” “Yes.” Brenda looked at Dalia. “With her.” “Yes.” Then Mandi. “And you.” Mandi nodded. Brenda turned back to Deja. “And you’re…” The sentence stalled. Deja raised an eyebrow. Brenda tried again. “You’re doing the thing.” Mandi looked delighted. “What thing?” Brenda glared at her. “You know exactly what thing.” “I know several things.” Iris took a slow breath. “Brenda.” Brenda ignored her. She looked directly at Deja. “Working?” Deja nodded. “One client.” Brenda’s eyebrows climbed. “Working working?” The table went silent. Mandi immediately folded forward, forehead nearly touching the table. Dalia removed the lollipop. Deja looked at Brenda for two full seconds. “Yes.” Brenda stared. “As in somebody pays you?” Deja tilted her head. “That is generally how work functions.” Mandi made a noise into the tabletop. Dalia put the lollipop down. Iris pressed two fingers against the bridge of her nose. Brenda pointed at Deja. “See? That’s exactly what I mean. She looks like she should be helping elderly people cross the street and then she says shit like that.” Deja smiled pleasantly. “I can multitask.” Mandi lifted her head. “I love her.” Dalia looked at her. “You already did.” “You know what I mean.” Brenda sat back. She looked genuinely thoughtful for almost three seconds. Then: “How much?” Iris turned. “Brenda.” “What? That is an actual logistical question.” Deja answered before Iris could stop her. “Twenty.” Brenda blinked. “Thousand?” “No, eurodollars in loose change.” Mandi laughed so hard she nearly knocked her bowl over. Dalia caught it with one hand. Brenda stared. Deja drank coffee. Iris looked at Deja. Then, very slowly, smiled. “Oh, this is going to be a problem.” Deja looked innocent. Brenda slapped one hand lightly on the table. “Thank you.” “I meant for you.” Brenda looked betrayed. Mandi pointed at Iris. “She gets it.” Dalia returned Mandi’s bowl. Mandi immediately stole another piece of food from her plate. Dalia stared. Mandi chewed. “No evidence.” Deja looked at Brenda. “You had more questions.” Brenda’s expression brightened. Iris’s did the opposite. “No.” Brenda looked at her. “She invited me.” “She made an observation.” “Same thing.” “It is absolutely not.” Deja leaned back slightly. “Go ahead.” Dalia glanced at her. Deja shrugged. “I want to know what she asks.” Mandi whispered: “Dangerous.” Brenda put her coffee down. “Okay.” Iris sighed. “God.” Brenda counted on her fingers. “Does Dalia stay in the room?” “Yes,” Deja said. “The whole time?” “Yes.” “Does the leash stay?” Deja glanced down at it. “Yes.” “Can the client—” “No.” Brenda stopped. “I didn’t finish.” “You were going to ask if the client gets to use it.” Brenda considered lying. Decided against it. “Yes.” “No.” Dalia’s voice was calm. “The leash is mine.” Brenda looked at her. Not performative. Not teasing. Dalia had said it as simply as she might have said the cup was hers. Brenda nodded. “Okay.” Something in her tone changed. Less comedy. More actual understanding. Then: “What happens if Deja wants to stop?” “We leave,” Dalia said. “Immediately?” “Yes.” “Even if they paid?” “Yes.” “No argument?” “No.” Brenda looked at Deja. “You don’t have to explain?” “No.” Brenda nodded again. Iris watched her. The joking had not vanished. It had simply moved aside long enough for the important part. “Okay,” Brenda said. Then she frowned. “One client?” Deja nodded. “After that?” “I decide again.” Brenda leaned back. “That’s actually…” She searched. Mandi waited. Dalia waited. Deja waited. “Very sensible.” Mandi gasped. Brenda turned. “What?” “You said something responsible.” “Fuck you.” “There she is.” Iris smiled. Brenda picked up her coffee. Then paused. “Are you nervous?” The question was different. No joke hidden underneath it. Deja noticed. She looked down at her hands. “A little.” Dalia’s fingers moved slightly around the leash handle. Brenda saw that. Deja did too. She continued. “Mostly curious.” Mandi nodded. “That’s normal.” Brenda looked at her. “You were nervous the first time?” Mandi paused. For perhaps the first time that morning, she answered without reaching for humor. “Yes.” Brenda blinked. Mandi shrugged. “Not because I didn’t want it. Because wanting something and doing it professionally aren’t the same thing.” Deja looked at her. That was the conversation from earlier returning in a different shape. Brenda absorbed it. Then looked at Dalia. “You too?” Dalia nodded. “Of course.” Brenda sat very still. Iris watched her with quiet attention. There was something moving behind Brenda’s expression now. Not judgment. Not discomfort. Thought. Deja caught it. Filed it. Did not ask. Iris broke the silence. “One thing.” Deja looked at her. Iris’s voice remained gentle. “You don’t owe anyone a second booking.” Deja nodded. “I know.” “I know you know.” Iris glanced toward Dalia. Then Mandi. Then back. “But sometimes hearing something from someone who isn’t involved in the decision helps.” Deja considered that. “Yes.” Iris smiled. “Good.” Brenda raised one finger. “And if the first one is really hot—” “Brenda.” Iris did not raise her voice. She did not need to. Brenda lowered the finger. “…I’m eating breakfast.” Mandi collapsed against Dalia’s shoulder laughing. Dalia caught her automatically. Deja looked at Brenda. Brenda looked back. For one dangerous second, both women were completely straight-faced. Then Deja said: “Technically, that would improve the probability of a second booking.” Iris turned slowly toward her. Deja smiled. Brenda’s mouth fell open. Mandi made a sound somewhere between laughter and respiratory failure. Dalia closed her eyes. “Oh, no.” Brenda pointed at Deja with both hands. “SEE?” Iris started laughing despite herself. Deja sat there in ivory, warm-eyed and soft-faced, collar visible above the neckline, looking entirely too pleased with what she had done. Mandi wiped at one eye. “She’s worse than Kiro.” Dalia opened her eyes. “No.” Everyone looked at her. Dalia put the lollipop back between her lips. “She’s less filtered.” Deja tilted her head. “Is that criticism?” Dalia smiled around the lollipop. “Not remotely.” Brenda stared at Deja again. Then grinned. “Oh, I like this cover.” Deja’s smile sharpened. “Careful.” “Why?” “You’re giving me material.” Brenda immediately looked toward Iris. Iris took a drink. “No protection.” “Traitor.” “You started it.” Breakfast recovered from there. Mostly. Brenda asked three more questions. Iris stopped two. Deja answered the third in enough detail to make Brenda regret asking it. Mandi stole food from everybody. Dalia eventually slapped her hand away from Deja’s plate. Deja threatened to start charging her. Mandi asked whether Safehouse residents got a discount. Dalia nearly inhaled her lollipop. Iris announced that she was leaving the table before breakfast became legally questionable. Brenda followed her five seconds later while arguing that she had personally done nothing wrong. By the time the room quieted again, Deja’s nerves had changed. Not vanished. Changed. The idea of tonight no longer felt like a private thought she was carrying inside a cover. Safehouse knew. Nobody had panicked. Nobody had treated her like she was doing something shameful. Brenda had been Brenda. Iris had been Iris. Mandi had been impossible. Dalia still had the leash. Nothing fundamental had broken. Deja looked toward the clock. Hours yet. Good. She wanted them. She wanted enough time for the decision to remain hers before they walked through Lizzie’s door. And, somewhere across the room, Brenda had gone unusually quiet. Deja noticed. So did Iris. Neither said anything. Not yet. --- # CHAPTER 4 — READY ENOUGH The problem with having several hours before a decision became real was that Mandi treated those hours as available space. Deja discovered this approximately forty minutes after breakfast. She was in front of the safehouse wardrobe with three ivory tops laid across the bed, two pairs of shorts hanging from the door, one pair of boots already rejected, and Mandi leaning against the wall offering commentary nobody had requested. “That one.” Deja did not look up. “No.” “The left one.” “No.” “The one with the lower—” “No.” Mandi folded her arms. “You’re refusing before I finish.” “Yes.” “That is inefficient.” “That is pattern recognition.” Dalia sat nearby in full cover, one leg crossed over the other, menthol lollipop between her lips. She had said almost nothing for the last ten minutes. That was because she was enjoying herself. Deja knew. Mandi knew. Dalia knew that they knew. Nobody improved. Deja held up another top. “This.” Mandi tilted her head. “Too polite.” “It’s clothing.” “It has emotional tone.” Deja looked at Dalia. “Is she always like this when dressing for work?” Dalia took the lollipop out. “Worse.” Mandi looked offended. “That is slander.” “It is testimony.” Deja smiled. Then looked back at the mirror. The woman reflected there was still exactly the one Lena had built yesterday. Soft face. Warm brown-amber eyes. Venom hair. Ivory. The collar remained around her throat. Not decoration. Not costume. Part of Deja. That thought no longer startled her. Good. She held the top against herself again. Mandi moved closer. “No.” Deja looked at her. “You said no to all my suggestions.” “Correct.” “And now you’re using mine.” “Incorrect.” “It is literally the one I pointed at.” “You pointed at six.” “That was first.” “That does not make it yours.” Dalia smiled into the lollipop. Deja caught the reflection. “You’re enjoying this.” “Yes.” “At least you admit it.” “Usually.” Mandi took the top from Deja and held it up beside the shorts. Ivory. Clean lines. Fitted without being fragile-looking. Enough structure to read expensive. Enough exposure to make the intended professional context unmistakable without copying Mandi’s near-combat relationship with coverage. Mandi nodded. “Okay.” Deja stared. “That sounded dangerously like approval.” “It is.” “Should I be worried?” “Yes.” Dalia laughed. Deja took the clothes back. “Fine.” She disappeared into the bathroom. Mandi immediately turned to Dalia. “She’s nervous.” Dalia looked at her. “Yes.” “More than she says.” “Yes.” “She’ll be good.” Dalia’s expression changed slightly. Not concern. Care. “I know.” Mandi leaned against the wardrobe. “You’re nervous too.” Dalia looked down at the leash coiled neatly beside her. “No.” Mandi waited. Dalia glanced up. “A little.” “Thought so.” “She asked me to carry structure.” “You do.” “That doesn’t mean I get to decide whether she likes this.” “No.” Dalia’s thumb moved once across the leash handle. “She has to find that herself.” Mandi’s grin softened. “She will.” Dalia looked toward the bathroom door. “That is not the same as saying she’ll say yes.” Mandi nodded. Good. Because that mattered. The door opened. Deja stepped out. Both women went quiet. Deja stopped. “What?” Mandi looked her over. Not theatrically. Professionally. The ivory top sat close without looking delicate. The shorts sharpened the line of the boots rather than competing with them. Nothing about the outfit copied Dalia’s darker, more controlled presentation or Mandi’s aggressive excess. It was unmistakably premium. But more importantly: It looked like Deja had chosen it. Mandi smiled. “That.” Deja looked at Dalia. Dalia’s eyes traveled once from boots to collar. Then back to Deja’s face. “Yes.” Deja folded her arms. “You two are being unsettlingly normal.” “Enjoy it,” Mandi said. “Temporary condition.” Deja crossed the room. Dalia picked up the leash. Everything changed by half a degree. No one joked. Not immediately. Dalia stood. Deja stopped in front of her. The leash hung loose from Dalia’s hand. Dalia raised the clip. Waited. No question needed. Deja lifted her chin. Click. The tiny sound settled through her faster than it had yesterday. Her shoulders dropped. Not dramatically. Enough. Mandi saw it. Said nothing. Dalia let the leash fall into an easy curve between them. “Still yes?” Deja looked at her. “Yes.” “One client.” “Yes.” “Then you decide again.” “Yes.” Dalia nodded. No smile. No reward. No ownership theater. Just confirmation. Then Mandi ruined it. “Excellent. Now can we discuss shoes?” Deja turned her head slowly. “No.” “You rejected the first pair for insufficient menace.” “They looked stupid.” “They were expensive.” “That does not prevent stupidity.” Dalia looked at Mandi. “That should probably be embroidered somewhere.” Mandi pointed at Deja. “See? Sharp.” Deja smiled sweetly. “Keep talking and I’ll sharpen it on you.” Mandi blinked. Then grinned. “There she is.” They finished preparing. Mandi checked her own cover with the lazy efficiency of someone who had done it enough times that the sequence no longer required thought. Black contacts. Orange ChromeLock perfect. Mandi voice already settled. Clothing that once again existed at the border between high-end fashion and public indecency. Dalia adjusted one boot, replaced her lollipop, checked the face mesh seal, and inspected the leash clip once more before letting it hang naturally from her hand. Deja watched both women. Not copying. Learning. That distinction mattered. Mandi noticed her looking. “What?” “Nothing.” “That was a very Kiro answer.” Deja tilted her head. “Would you prefer the Deja version?” Mandi brightened. “Yes.” Deja smiled. “Mind your own fucking business.” Dalia laughed so hard the lollipop nearly escaped. Mandi stared at Deja. “Okay.” Deja lifted one eyebrow. “What?” “That one’s staying.” “What?” “The mouth.” Deja’s expression softened into something almost angelic. “You like it.” “I’m evaluating risk.” “Coward.” Mandi looked at Dalia. “She’s worse.” Dalia recovered enough to speak. “No.” “Again?” “She’s more honest.” Deja looked between them. “That is disturbingly flattering.” Mandi pointed. “See?” The safehouse door opened from the hallway. Brenda entered carrying a small toolkit and stopped. Again. Apparently Deja was going to keep doing that to her. Brenda looked at the outfit. Then the boots. Then the collar. Then the leash. Then Dalia holding it. Her eyebrows rose. “Oh.” Behind her, Iris appeared. She followed Brenda’s line of sight. Then looked at Deja. Her expression softened. “You look good.” Deja smiled. “Thanks.” Brenda was still staring. Iris nudged her lightly. “Use words.” Brenda blinked. “Right.” She looked at Deja. “You look…” Deja waited. Brenda frowned. “Expensive.” Mandi put a hand to her chest. “I taught her everything.” Deja looked at Brenda. “That was almost a compliment.” “It was a compliment.” “It sounded like an appraisal.” Brenda pointed toward the outfit. “You’re charging twenty thousand.” “Fair.” Iris smiled. Dalia glanced at the time. “Five minutes.” Mandi immediately headed toward the door. Brenda watched her. “You’re actually going like that?” Mandi stopped. Looked down at herself. “What?” Brenda opened her mouth. Iris touched her arm. “No.” Brenda closed it again. Mandi looked pleased. “Growth.” Brenda glared. Deja moved toward the entry. The leash shifted. Dalia followed. Not pulling. Not guiding. Simply carrying the other end. Deja stopped near the door to put on her jacket. The motion temporarily hid most of the ivory. Not the collar. Brenda noticed. Of course she did. Her expression changed again. Less amusement now. Thought. Deja caught it. So did Iris. No one asked. Mandi opened the door. Night City waited outside in all its usual terrible confidence. Mandi stepped through first. Dalia followed. The leash moved. Deja went with her. At the threshold she looked back. Brenda and Iris stood inside. Brenda lifted one hand. “Have fun.” Iris looked at her. Brenda immediately corrected. “Safely.” Deja smiled. “Those aren’t mutually exclusive.” Brenda froze. Mandi laughed from the hallway. Dalia’s shoulders moved with suppressed amusement. Iris closed her eyes. Deja stepped through. The door closed. For several seconds, Brenda did not move. Iris watched her. Brenda was still looking at the door. Not smiling now. Not worried either. Just thinking. Iris leaned one shoulder against the wall. “What?” Brenda blinked. “Hm?” “You’re doing the thing.” “What thing?” “The quiet thing.” “I can be quiet.” “No.” Brenda frowned. “That’s rude.” “Accurate.” Brenda looked back at the closed door. Her expression stayed thoughtful. Iris waited. Brenda took a breath. Then: “Nothing.” Iris said nothing. Brenda glanced at her. “Don’t.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You’re thinking loudly.” That got the smallest smile out of Iris. Brenda looked at the door one more time. Then down at the toolkit in her hand. “Just thinking.” Iris nodded. Did not ask about what. That was probably wise. The safehouse settled around them. The trio was gone. And somewhere behind Brenda’s eyes, something had started moving. --- # CHAPTER 5 — STILL YES? Lizzie’s looked different when you arrived intending to work. Deja noticed that before they even reached the door. The street was the same. Same neon. Same music leaking through walls not designed to contain it. Same small knots of people deciding where to go next and how much of tomorrow they were willing to sacrifice for tonight. Same looks. That part had not changed either. People noticed Mandi first. That seemed to be a law of physics. Orange hair. Black contacts. A grin that suggested she had already made several bad decisions and was accepting applications for more. Dalia drew the second look. Pink. Green eyes. Black. Controlled. The menthol lollipop appearing and disappearing between her lips like punctuation. Then Deja. Ivory. Venom. Soft face. Warm eyes. Collar. Leash. Dalia holding the other end. The looks stayed slightly longer on Deja tonight. Or maybe she noticed them more because tonight they meant something different. Yesterday: Maybe. Tonight: Available. Possibly. For one client. Then she decided again. Dalia’s hand shifted slightly around the leash handle as they reached the entrance. Deja glanced toward her. Dalia did not look back immediately. She did not need to. The leash stayed loose. A reminder, not a command. Mandi stepped through the entrance first. “Try not to scare Suzie.” Deja looked at her. “I’m the least alarming person in this group.” Mandi turned while walking backward. “That face is doing a lot of work for you.” Deja smiled pleasantly. “Keep talking.” Mandi pointed at Dalia. “See?” Dalia took the lollipop out. “I told you.” “I reject the diagnosis.” “You are the diagnosis.” Mandi turned around again. Deja laughed. Some of the tightness under her ribs loosened. Good. That was probably why Mandi had done it. Annoying. Useful. Very Mandi. They passed the bar. Suzie Q saw them immediately. No surprise. Just recognition. Her eyes moved over Mandi. Dalia. Then Deja. They paused very briefly at the collar. Then the leash. Then back to Deja’s face. Suzie said nothing. She finished what she was doing. Spoke to one of the staff. Then nodded toward the back. Dalia did not move first. Deja did. That mattered. She started toward the corridor. The leash followed. Dalia came with her. Mandi fell into step on the other side. Suzie waited until the door to the soundproof room closed behind them before speaking. She leaned against the edge of the table. Looked at Deja. “Still yes?” Deja had expected more. A speech. A test. Something. Instead: Three words. She answered just as simply. “Yes.” Suzie nodded. “Still one?” “One.” “And then?” “I decide again.” Suzie’s gaze stayed on her. “Good.” Mandi leaned against the wall. Dalia remained beside Deja, leash still loose. Suzie looked at Dalia. “You stay.” “Yes.” “Whole booking.” “Yes.” “Not automatically involved.” “Yes.” Suzie looked at Deja. “Still your rule?” “Yes.” “If you want out?” “We leave.” Dalia answered this time. Suzie looked back at Deja. “No discussion?” “No.” “No refund negotiation?” “No.” “No explaining yourself because somebody thinks twenty thousand buys a debate?” Deja’s expression sharpened. “No.” Suzie nodded again. “Good.” That was it. Almost. Then Suzie’s eyes dropped to the leash. “This still theirs?” Deja answered before Dalia could. “Ours.” Suzie looked up. “Client gets no authority from seeing it.” “None.” “Can’t touch it unless you say so.” Deja paused. Then: “I’d prefer they don’t.” Dalia looked at her. Suzie noticed. “Then they don’t.” Simple. Filed. Done. Deja felt something inside her settle. There was an ease to Suzie’s process she appreciated. No fascination. No moralizing. No trying to interpret the collar as hidden psychology requiring commentary. Rules. Consent. Structure. Business. Suzie pushed away from the table. “I have someone.” Deja’s stomach tightened. Mandi immediately stopped smiling. Not dramatically. Just enough. Suzie continued. “Known client. Reliable. Pays clean. Listens.” Deja nodded once. “What do they want?” “Conversation first.” “Good.” “Nothing unusual.” “Define unusual.” Suzie’s mouth twitched. Mandi covered a grin with one hand. Suzie looked at Deja. “Nothing that needs a separate conversation.” “Better.” Dalia’s fingers moved once around the leash. Deja felt it through the line more than saw it. Suzie continued. “She knows this is your first professional booking.” Deja frowned slightly. “Does she need to?” “No.” “Then why tell her?” “I didn’t.” Deja relaxed. Good. Suzie’s expression stayed neutral. “She knows you’re new here.” “Fine.” “She also knows Dalia stays.” “Fine.” “And she knows Dalia is not part of the twenty.” “Good.” Mandi said: “Very romantic.” Suzie looked at her. “You’re working too.” Mandi’s grin appeared instantly. “Am I?” “Yes.” “When?” “Now.” Mandi blinked. Deja looked at her. Dalia looked at her. Suzie folded her arms. “Regular requested you ten minutes ago.” Mandi looked delighted. “See?” Deja stared. “You’ve been here four minutes.” “Demand.” “You’re impossible.” “Premium.” Suzie pointed toward the door. “Go.” Mandi pushed away from the wall. Then stopped beside Deja. For once, no joke. “You good?” Deja checked herself. Actually checked. Not reflex answer. “Yes.” Mandi nodded. “Good.” Then she grinned. “Try not to unionize before I get back.” Deja smiled sweetly. “Try not to get booked by the entire street.” Mandi opened the door. “No promises.” Gone. The door closed. Suzie looked at Deja again. “You want a minute?” Deja glanced at Dalia. Dalia said nothing. Correct. This was not her decision. Deja looked back at Suzie. “Yes.” Suzie nodded. No impatience. She walked to the other side of the room and checked something on the wall display, giving them privacy without leaving. Deja breathed slowly. The room suddenly felt very small. Not threatening. Just real. Dalia stayed beside her. Leash loose. Deja looked down at it. Then up. “You’re not going to say anything?” Dalia’s eyes softened. “Do you want me to?” Deja considered. “No.” “Then no.” “Annoying.” “Yes.” Deja exhaled through her nose. Then smiled slightly. “I hate how good you are at that.” “At what?” “Not helping.” Dalia’s mouth curved. “You asked me to hold structure.” “I know.” “Not choices.” “I know.” Dalia lifted the leash handle slightly. Just enough for Deja to see it. “This?” “Yes.” Dalia lowered it again. “The rest is yours.” Deja nodded. There it was. The whole arrangement compressed into one sentence. Structure. Not authority over consent. Not outsourcing the decision. Not Dalia choosing which client Deja accepted or how far she went. The rest was hers. Suzie turned from the display. “Ready?” Deja looked at her. Then at Dalia. Then toward the closed door. Her pulse accelerated. Good. She was nervous. She should be. If she felt nothing, she probably was not taking it seriously enough. “One question.” Suzie waited. “Does she know the rate?” “Yes.” “Accepted?” “Yes.” “No discussion?” “None.” Deja nodded. “Then yes.” Suzie walked to the door. Opened it. A woman stood outside with one of the Lizzie’s staff. Older than Deja by perhaps fifteen years. Corpo, but not aggressively dressed as one. Dark tailored coat. Subtle chrome near one temple. Expensive boots. Calm expression. She looked at Suzie first. Then Dalia. Then Deja. Her eyes stopped there. Not at the collar first. Not the leash. Deja. Good. The woman smiled. Not too much. “Hi.” Deja returned it. “Hi.” Suzie stepped aside. “Deja.” The name felt different when Suzie said it in this context. Professional. Public. Real. The woman nodded. “Lena.” Deja almost laughed. Not because anything was funny. Because of course. Of every possible name in Night City. Dalia’s expression did not move. Suzie’s did not either. Deja filed the coincidence and let it die. “Nice to meet you.” Lena’s eyes flicked briefly toward the leash. Then to Dalia. “Dalia stays?” “Yes,” Deja said. “Fine with me.” Good answer. Deja watched how she said it. No irritation. No performative enthusiasm. Just acceptance. Lena looked back at Deja. “Twenty?” “Yes.” “I’m good with that.” No bargaining. No hesitation. Deja felt the number land harder now than it had in the safehouse. Twenty thousand. For her time. Her attention. Her work. Not Kiro’s technical skill. Not a merc contract. Not O’Sullivan SAS. Deja. The transaction completed. Clean. Simple. Suzie confirmed it. Then looked at Deja one last time. Not asking if she was still yes. That question had already been answered. This one was different. Ready? Deja understood. She looked at Lena. Then Dalia. The leash rested loosely between them. Dalia held the other end. Deja smiled. “Come on.” And this time, when she moved toward the private room, she did not feel like someone testing whether Deja could exist. She felt like someone about to find out whether Deja could work. --- # CHAPTER 6 — TWENTY The private room was quieter than Deja expected. Not silent. Nothing in Lizzie’s was ever truly silent. Bass still reached them through the walls in softened pulses, stripped of melody and reduced to pressure. The room itself was clean, expensive enough to feel deliberate, and neutral enough not to force a mood onto anyone who entered it. Deja liked that immediately. Lena stepped inside first. Dalia followed. The leash moved with her. Deja entered last and closed the door. For half a second, nothing happened. Good. Deja had been worried about that moment. The instant after the door closed. The point where everybody suddenly knew why they were there and somebody felt obligated to make it less awkward by pretending it was not important. Lena did not. She turned toward Deja. “Drink?” Deja looked toward the small cabinet. “Water.” “Same.” Dalia said nothing. She moved to one side of the room and sat where she could see both of them easily. Not hiding. Not intruding. The leash remained visible. Loose. Deja could feel its weight without feeling any pull. She poured two glasses. Handed one to Lena. “Here.” “Thanks.” Lena took it. Their fingers did not touch. That registered. Not because contact would have been wrong. Because Lena had not manufactured it. Another point in her favor. Deja sat opposite her. Not too close. Not across the entire room either. The position felt slightly formal. She let it. First booking. Formal was useful. Lena drank some water. Then looked at the collar. Not stared. Looked. “Can I ask?” “Yes.” “The leash stays?” “Yes.” “With Dalia.” “Yes.” Lena nodded. “Okay.” No follow-up. No joke. No request to hold it. Good. Deja studied her. The old instinct wanted to treat the conversation like an assessment. Input. Output. Risk. That was useful up to a point. Mandi’s voice from earlier returned: People are data with opinions. Deja almost smiled. Lena noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “That looked like something.” Deja lifted one shoulder. “Private joke.” “Fair.” Another point. She did not push. Deja took a drink. “So.” Lena looked at her. “What do you want?” There. First real question. Lena considered it. “I’m not sure how specific you want me to be.” “As specific as you’re comfortable being.” “That sounds rehearsed.” Deja smiled. “It isn’t.” “Good.” Lena leaned back slightly. “I want attention.” Deja waited. Lena added: “Not performance.” That caught her. “What does performance mean to you?” “Somebody acting like I’m the most fascinating person in Night City because I paid them.” Deja’s mouth curved. “That sounds exhausting.” “For both of us.” “Good answer.” Lena smiled. Deja realized she had said that out loud. Fine. Soft face. Sharp tongue. Apparently that was staying. She continued. “What does attention mean?” Lena looked at her more carefully now. “Someone actually present.” “That’s vague.” “Yes.” “Try again.” Dalia moved slightly. Not intervening. Probably hiding amusement. Lena laughed. “Okay.” She thought. “I spend all day around people waiting for me to finish talking so they can tell me something.” Deja nodded. “I don’t want that tonight.” “You want someone to listen.” “Yes.” “Only listen?” “No.” There. A little more tension. Not dangerous. Useful. Deja felt it. Lena felt it too. Deja did not rush. “What else?” Lena looked toward Dalia for the first time since sitting down. Not asking permission. Just checking the room. Then back to Deja. “Touch.” “Where?” Lena’s eyebrows rose. Deja held the expression. “If you want me to know, tell me.” Lena smiled. “That direct?” “Yes.” “I like that.” “Good.” Lena named a few boundaries. Clear. Ordinary. Nothing difficult. Deja listened. Asked questions where needed. Repeated one detail back to make sure she had understood it correctly. Lena noticed. “You really are new.” Deja felt the tiniest flash of irritation. Not at Lena. At being seen. She let it pass. “Yes.” “You don’t seem nervous.” “I am.” Lena looked surprised. Deja smiled. “See?” “Not really.” “That means I’m doing something right.” Lena laughed. The room relaxed. That mattered. Deja felt it happen. Not as a dramatic shift. Just pressure leaving. She looked at Dalia. One glance. Dalia met it. No expression beyond calm attention. No cue. No answer. Good. Deja looked back to Lena. “Anything you definitely don’t want?” Lena answered immediately. Deja listened. “Anything you’re unsure about?” A pause. Then one thing. Deja nodded. “Then we don’t start there.” Lena looked at her. “That easy?” “Yes.” “What if I change my mind?” “Tell me.” “What if I don’t know?” “Then we stop and figure it out.” Lena studied her. “You say that like stopping isn’t failure.” “It isn’t.” Dalia’s eyes softened. Deja caught it in peripheral vision. Ignored it. Mostly. Lena took another drink. “What about you?” Deja frowned. “What about me?” “Anything I should know?” Good question. Deja thought carefully. “I don’t like people assuming the collar means I take orders.” Lena nodded. “I figured.” “You’d be surprised.” “I probably would.” “The leash stays with Dalia.” “Understood.” “Don’t grab it.” “I won’t.” “If I say stop, we stop.” “Yes.” “If I move away, don’t follow automatically.” Lena nodded again. “Okay.” Deja watched her. No resistance. No theatrical reassurance. Just acceptance. Good. She exhaled slowly. That was the professional agreement. Not the payment. Not really. The payment made it work. This made it possible. Lena set the glass down. “So what happens now?” Deja almost answered too quickly. Caught herself. Good. Professional Deja. Not Kiro solving the next step. She let the pause exist. Then: “Now I stop interviewing you.” Lena smiled. “That would be nice.” “And you stop evaluating whether I’m worth twenty thousand.” Lena blinked. Then laughed. “I wasn’t.” “You absolutely were.” “Maybe a little.” “Good.” Deja stood. Not dramatic. Just enough to alter the room. Lena watched. Deja crossed the small distance between them and stopped within easy reach. Not touching. Close enough that Lena could choose. That distinction felt enormous. Deja held out one hand. Lena looked at it. Then took it. Simple. Warm. Human. Deja felt the response in herself. Not arousal first. Attention. Every signal sharpened. Grip. Posture. Breath. Eyes. Mandi had been right. This was work. Not because it was unpleasant. Because it required presence. Deja drew Lena gently to her feet. No flourish. No performance. Just contact becoming something more deliberate. Lena’s other hand touched Deja’s arm. Paused there. Deja looked down. Then back up. “Good?” “Yes.” “Good.” The answer settled them both. Deja moved closer. Not all the way. Lena closed the remaining distance herself. There. Mutual choice. Clean. Deja liked that. A lot. The first kiss was careful. Not timid. Measured. Deja discovered immediately that Lena liked slower beginnings. Not because Deja already knew. Because Lena leaned into patience instead of urgency. Useful. She followed that. No need to impress. No need to accelerate. Lena’s hand moved higher along her arm. Deja watched the change in breathing. Adjusted. Not mechanical. Responsive. When Lena’s fingers reached the edge of Deja’s jacket, she paused. “May I?” “Yes.” The jacket came away slowly enough that neither of them could pretend the choice had happened by accident. Deja returned the same courtesy, opening Lena’s coat only after another nod, then letting the first layer of distance disappear between them. The leash shifted softly as Deja moved closer. Dalia remained exactly where she was, quiet and visible, the line in her hand turning the room into something Deja could enter without carrying every edge of it herself. When the booking crossed from kissing into sex, Lena asked first. Deja’s answer was immediate. “Yes.” The first change in Lena’s breathing caught Deja’s attention more sharply than the transition itself. Her own breath answered a moment later, and for a few seconds neither woman tried to move faster. They stayed there, close enough to feel the choice settle, before finding the slower rhythm Lena had been asking for from the beginning. That was the thing Mandi had tried to explain. Not reading a script. Reading the person. Deja understood it better now. Dalia remained in the room. Present. Quiet. The leash still connected them. It should have been distracting. Instead it anchored the edge of Deja’s awareness. No matter where attention moved, one part of her knew exactly where Dalia was. That helped. A lot. Lena pulled back slightly. Deja stopped immediately. Lena smiled. “Just breathing.” “Good.” “You really do stop fast.” “You said you wanted someone present.” “I did.” “Then I’m listening.” Something changed in Lena’s face. Trust, maybe. Too early to name. But softer. Deja liked seeing it. That surprised her. Not because she was cold. Because she had assumed the reward would be more obvious. Being wanted. Being touched. Being paid. Instead, this tiny shift mattered almost as much. She understood Mandi slightly better. Annoying. They continued. The room gradually lost its formal feeling. Conversation returned in fragments. A question. A laugh. A correction. One moment where Lena reached for something too quickly, stopped herself, and asked instead. Deja said yes. Another where Lena suggested something and Deja said no. No apology. No explanation. Lena accepted it immediately. Good. Deja felt something settle deeper. She could do this. Not perfectly. Not yet. But she could do it. The thought almost broke her concentration. She let it go. Later. The active part of the booking unfolded without hurry. Deja kept the pace slower than she might have chosen personally. Not because she was suppressing herself. Because Lena responded better to it. That distinction became clearer minute by minute. Professional did not mean false. It meant the center of gravity was shared. Sometimes Lena. Sometimes Deja. Always negotiated by what actually happened, not what either had imagined beforehand. Dalia stayed exactly where she needed to be. Once, Deja glanced toward her. Not for rescue. Not for instruction. Just contact. Dalia met her eyes. A tiny nod. Not approval. Presence. Deja went back to Lena. Eventually, the room became still again. Not abruptly. Gradually. The kind of quiet that followed a choice completed rather than interrupted. Deja stayed close for several breaths after the last rise had passed, not rushing to turn professional attention into professional distance. Lena’s hand remained around hers until both of them were breathing normally again. Lena sat beside Deja now. Closer than before. Dalia had shifted position but remained within sight. The leash still ran visibly between them. Lena looked at it once. Then at Deja. “You like that.” Not a question. Deja answered anyway. “Yes.” “Being led?” Deja thought. “No.” Lena looked curious. “Then what?” Deja glanced at Dalia. Dalia remained still. Deja looked back. “Not having to hold every piece of structure myself.” Lena considered that. “That makes sense.” Deja smiled. “Most people say that when they don’t understand something.” “I mean it.” “I know.” Lena laughed softly. Then leaned back. “Can I ask another thing?” “Yes.” “Did you enjoy this?” There it was. Interesting question. Deja checked. Not professionally. Personally. Yes. Not in exactly the way she had expected. But yes. “I did.” Lena smiled. “Good.” Deja looked at her. “Did you?” Lena laughed. “Yes.” “Good.” A few more minutes passed. No one rushed the ending. That mattered too. Mandi’s lesson again. The work did not stop at the last active beat. Deja made sure Lena had water. Asked how she felt. Checked whether anything had gone wrong that Lena had not wanted to interrupt. Nothing had. Lena asked the same back. That caught Deja off guard again. “Fine.” “Only fine?” Deja smiled. “Tired.” “Fair.” “Thinking.” “That sounds dangerous.” “You have no idea.” Dalia finally spoke. “She does that.” Lena looked toward her. First real direct exchange between them. “You’re very quiet.” Dalia’s mouth curved around the lollipop. “I’m not the one you booked.” Lena nodded. “Right.” No offense. No challenge. Deja liked her more for that. Eventually Lena stood. Adjusted her clothes. Checked herself in the mirror. Then looked at Deja. “I’d book you again.” Deja felt the words land. Interesting. She did not answer immediately. Because that was not a commitment she wanted to make accidentally. “Good to know.” Lena smiled. “That sounded careful.” “It was.” “Fair.” She looked at Dalia. “Thanks.” Dalia nodded once. Then Lena looked back at Deja. “Good first night.” Deja froze. Lena immediately saw it. “Oh.” Deja stared. Lena raised both hands. “Suzie didn’t tell me.” Deja waited. “You’re new. I guessed.” Deja exhaled. Dalia’s shoulders moved once with hidden amusement. Deja looked at her. “Not one word.” “I didn’t say anything.” “That was almost laughing.” “It wasn’t.” Lena smiled. “I’ll pretend I saw nothing.” Deja pointed toward the door. “Out.” Lena laughed. “Worth twenty.” “Out.” She left smiling. The door closed. Silence. Deja stood in the middle of the room. Dalia watched her. The leash remained loose. Deja looked at the closed door. Then down at her hands. Then at Dalia. “How long did that feel?” Dalia considered. “Longer than it was.” “Yes.” “How are you?” Deja inhaled. Slow. Checked. Really checked. “Tired.” Dalia nodded. “Good tired?” “Yes.” “Nervous?” “Not anymore.” “Anything wrong?” “No.” Dalia waited. Deja looked toward the door again. “She was good.” “Yes.” “I was good.” Dalia’s smile appeared. “Yes.” Deja frowned. “Don’t look smug.” “I’m not.” “You are.” “I’m pleased.” “That’s worse.” Dalia stood. The leash shifted. Deja watched it. Twenty thousand. One client. Done. Exactly what she had agreed to. Now came the part that mattered. Decision reset. Dalia did not ask immediately. Good. She simply moved toward the door. Deja followed. Not because she had to. Because she wanted out of the room. Back into noise. Back into neutral space. Back somewhere the answer did not need to exist yet. The door opened. Lizzie’s sound rolled toward them. Deja stepped into it. One client. Good. Different. More work than she had expected. More satisfying than she had expected. And still— not automatically again. --- # CHAPTER 7 — DECISION RESET The music hit Deja the moment the private-room door opened. Not louder than before. Just more alive. Bass moved through the floor. Conversations layered over it. Glasses touched counters. Laughter rose and vanished into the larger noise of Lizzie’s. After the controlled quiet of the booking room, the club felt enormous. Deja stopped just outside the door. Dalia stopped with her. The leash stayed loose between them. No tug. No question. Just the other end in Dalia’s hand. Deja took one breath. Then another. “Okay.” Dalia looked at her. “Okay?” “That was more work than I expected.” A smile touched Dalia’s mouth. “Good.” Deja turned her head slowly. “That sounded suspicious.” “It wasn’t.” “You keep saying that.” “You keep being suspicious.” “Occupational hazard.” Dalia lifted the menthol lollipop back to her lips. Deja looked toward the main room. People moved past. Nobody knew what had just happened. Nobody cared. That was oddly useful. She had expected some kind of visible change. A line crossed. A sign. Something. Instead she was still standing in ivory, venom hair catching green along the edges, warm brown-amber eyes looking out at the same room she had entered earlier. Still Deja. Only now somebody had paid twenty thousand eurodollars for her time. And she had delivered. Professionally. That part mattered more than the money. She looked down at the leash. Still there. Good. Dalia noticed the glance. “Booth?” Deja nodded. “Yes.” They moved through the room together. This time Deja noticed the looks differently. Earlier she had wondered which ones meant potential interest. Now she wondered which ones she actually cared about. That was new. Not confidence exactly. Calibration. She no longer had to imagine what a booking felt like. She knew. At least one version of it. The booth near the side wall was open. Dalia slid in first. Deja sat opposite her. The leash crossed between them, resting partly along the seat and partly across Dalia’s lap. Visible. Unremarkable. Exactly where it belonged. For a while neither spoke. Deja liked that. The room moved around them while they stayed still inside it. Dalia leaned back. Watched her. Not intensely. Not trying to extract an answer. Just there. Deja looked at her. “You’re waiting.” “Yes.” “That’s irritating.” “I know.” “Ask.” Dalia’s mouth curved slightly. “Do you want another?” There it was. Simple. No buildup. No coaxing. Deja looked away. Across the room, Mandi appeared for approximately three seconds. Orange hair. Black eyes. A laugh. Someone touched her arm. Mandi said something Deja couldn’t hear. Then she disappeared into another corridor. Deja stared. Dalia followed her gaze. “She’s busy.” “That is becoming medically concerning.” Dalia smiled. Deja looked back toward the room. Another client. Did she want one? Her first answer was not immediate. That was good. She did not want an answer that arrived because the first booking had gone well. Good was not the same as again. She leaned back. “I don’t know.” Dalia nodded. Deja looked at her. “That’s it?” “What else should I say?” “Something helpful.” “You asked me not to make choices for you.” “I know.” “So I’m being extremely helpful.” “You’re being unbearable.” “Yes.” Deja looked down at the leash. Dalia’s fingers rested around the handle. Relaxed. No pressure. That helped more than words would have. Deja looked back toward the crowd. “Lena was easy.” Dalia nodded. “She was.” “Good boundaries.” “Yes.” “Good listener.” “Yes.” “Didn’t push.” “No.” “Didn’t try to make the leash into something it wasn’t.” “No.” Deja folded her arms. “So that was probably the best possible first client.” “Close.” “Which means it proves almost nothing.” Dalia tilted her head. “It proves something.” “What?” “That you can do the work.” Deja frowned. “I already knew I could probably do it.” “No.” Dalia’s voice stayed calm. “You knew you had the skills to attempt it.” Deja said nothing. “That’s different.” Annoying. Correct. Deja sighed. “Fine.” Dalia smiled. “Fine?” “Don’t enjoy that.” “I’m trying not to.” “You’re failing.” “Yes.” Deja watched another pair cross the room. One of them looked at her. Held the gaze for half a second too long. Interested. Deja noticed. Her body responded with a small tightening beneath the ribs. Not fear. Not yes either. Just awareness. The stranger kept walking. Deja looked away. Interesting. Dalia saw that too. Said nothing. Good. A server passed. Dalia ordered water. Deja ordered the same. No alcohol. Not tonight. Not while she was deciding whether she wanted to be available again. The drinks came. Deja took one sip. Then another. The quiet between them remained easy. Mandi reappeared. Again. This time she made it all the way to the booth. She dropped into the seat beside Deja. “Hi.” Deja looked at her. “You’re alive.” “Barely.” Dalia raised an eyebrow. “That dramatic already?” “I have suffered.” “You’ve been working.” “Exactly.” Deja looked at Mandi’s hair. Then her face. Then the faint satisfied exhaustion around her eyes. “You got booked again.” Mandi looked offended. “Twice.” Dalia removed the lollipop. “Since when?” “Since five minutes after I left you.” Deja stared. “You’ve been so busy all night that your pussy must have had quite a workout.” Silence. Perfect, complete silence. Mandi froze. Dalia slowly turned toward Deja. Very slowly. The lollipop left her mouth. Deja looked back at both of them with the softest, calmest face in Night City. “What?” Mandi blinked once. Then again. Dalia stared. Deja raised one eyebrow. Mandi finally spoke. “That came out of your mouth.” “Yes.” “You.” “Yes.” “Soft little woodland-creature face.” Deja smiled pleasantly. “Careful.” Dalia covered her mouth with one hand. Mandi pointed at Deja. “No. No, that is not Kiro.” Deja folded her arms. “I know.” Dalia’s shoulders started moving. Mandi turned. “Are you laughing?” Dalia shook her head. She absolutely was. Mandi looked back at Deja. “That was filthy.” “It was observational.” “That is exactly the excuse Kiro would use.” Deja’s smile sharpened. “Kiro would have used three extra sentences and pretended she was talking about muscle fatigue.” Dalia lost it. The laugh came out hard enough that she had to put the lollipop down on the table. Mandi stared at Deja for one more second. Then leaned back. “Oh, this is bad.” Deja looked innocent. “For you.” “For everybody.” “Dramatic.” “You’re going to weaponize that face.” “I already have.” Dalia finally recovered enough to breathe. Mandi pointed at her. “You knew.” Dalia wiped at one eye. “I suspected.” “You could have warned me.” “Why would I ruin this?” Mandi looked betrayed. Deja drank water. Perfectly calm. Then a woman at the next table glanced toward them, clearly wondering what had happened. Deja gave her a polite smile. The woman looked away. Mandi stared again. “Terrifying.” “Premium.” Dalia made another helpless sound. That nearly started them all over again. Eventually Mandi recovered. Mostly. She looked at Deja more seriously. “So?” Deja knew the question immediately. “No answer yet.” Mandi nodded. No teasing. “Good.” “You’re all disturbingly supportive when it matters.” Mandi leaned back. “We contain multitudes.” Deja looked at her. “You contain scheduling conflicts.” “That too.” Someone appeared near the booth. Not staff. A woman. Mid-thirties. Elegant. Interested. Her gaze went to Mandi first. Of course. Then Dalia. Then Deja. Long enough. Mandi saw it. Dalia saw it. Deja saw it. The woman smiled. “Working?” Mandi opened her mouth. Then another voice came from behind her. “Mandi?” Mandi turned. A second client stood there. Mandi looked between them. Then toward the ceiling. “Oh, come on.” Deja laughed. The first woman glanced at Deja again. Interested. Very. Deja felt it. A live possibility. Not hypothetical. Her chest tightened. Mandi looked at her. Dalia did too. Nobody spoke. The woman addressed Deja. “You available?” Deja’s mouth opened. Then closed. There it was. The actual decision. Not in theory. Not while sitting safely in the booth. A person asking. Now. Deja checked herself. The first booking had been good. She had enjoyed it. She had done the work well. But the answer in her body was not yes. Not yet. She looked at the woman. “No.” No apology. No explanation. The woman nodded. “Fair.” Then she looked at Mandi. “You?” Mandi smiled. “Very.” The second client behind her sighed. “Of course.” Mandi pointed between them. “Ladies, I am one person.” Deja looked at Dalia. “Debatable.” Mandi turned. “You’re not helping.” “I wasn’t trying to.” Dalia smiled. The two clients started laughing. Mandi looked around. Then at Suzie across the room. Suzie saw the situation. Raised one finger. Wait. Mandi exhaled. “Professional crisis.” Deja leaned back. “Go work.” “I’m trying.” Eventually one booking got sorted. Then the other. Mandi vanished again. Deja watched her go. Then looked at Dalia. “I said no.” “Yes.” “That felt good.” Dalia smiled. “That matters.” Deja nodded. It did. More than she expected. Because saying no had not ended anything. No one had argued. No one had looked offended. No one had treated her like she had failed at being available. She had simply not wanted that client. So she had declined. Done. Deja looked at the room again. The uncertainty was still there. But it was changing shape. Less: Can I do this? More: Do I want this person? That was a better question. A much better one. They stayed in the booth. Leash visible. Dalia holding the other end. Time passed. No pressure. Then Deja noticed them. A couple. Not because they were loud. They weren’t. Not because they were looking directly at her. Not yet. She noticed because they moved well together. Close without clinging. Comfortable. Confident. One woman. One man. Both attractive. Very. Deja’s attention sharpened. The woman saw her first. Their eyes met. Held. Then the man noticed where his partner was looking. His gaze followed. Deja. Then Dalia. Then the leash. Then back to Deja. No smirk. No assumption. Interest. Real interest. Deja felt something immediate answer inside her. Oh. Dalia noticed. Of course she did. Her thumb moved once against the leash handle. Nothing more. Deja looked at her. Dalia’s eyes were already on the couple. Then back to Deja. No question. Not yet. The couple started walking toward them. Deja sat a little straighter. Her uncertainty did not disappear. It simply stopped being abstract. Because this time— she already knew she wanted to hear what they had to say. --- # CHAPTER 8 — SEVENTY-FIVE The couple stopped beside the booth. Up close, they were even more attractive. That was inconvenient. The woman was tall, dark-haired, sharp-featured without looking severe, dressed in a fitted coat that probably cost more than most people’s monthly rent. The man beside her was broader, clean-lined, calm. Not trying to dominate the space. Not trying to impress anyone. Good start. The woman looked at Deja first. Then Dalia. Then the leash. Her gaze stayed there for one beat. Not too long. Then back to Deja. “Working?” Dalia answered. “Yes.” The woman smiled. “Both of you?” Dalia looked at Deja. Not subtle. Not hidden. A question. Deja felt the answer before she fully formed it. Yes. Not because this was her first night. Not because she wanted to prove anything. Because she wanted them. That difference was immediate. She looked at Dalia. “Yes.” Dalia’s eyes softened by half a degree. Then she looked back at the couple. “Both.” The man glanced toward the leash. “Any rules we should know?” Deja liked him immediately for asking. Dalia answered calmly. “The leash stays with me.” “Understood.” “You don’t use it.” “Understood.” The woman nodded too. “No problem.” Deja watched both of them. No disappointment. No curiosity turned entitlement. Good. The woman looked at Deja. “Anything else?” Deja leaned back slightly. “Yes.” They waited. “If I say no, it means no.” The woman smiled. “Good.” “If I change my mind, I say so.” “Good.” “If you change yours, same rule.” The man nodded. “Works for me.” Deja looked at Dalia. Dalia was already watching her. Still not taking over. Good. The woman sat on the edge of the opposite booth seat. Not invited yet. Close enough to talk. “Price?” Dalia answered. “Seventy-five.” No reaction. No bargaining. The woman looked at the man. He shrugged lightly. “Fine.” Deja almost laughed. Not because of the money. Because after twenty thousand had felt enormous earlier, seventy-five now landed almost abstractly. The woman transferred it. Clean. Immediate. Dalia checked the confirmation. Then looked at Deja. One last time. “Still yes?” Deja’s answer came fast. “Yes.” The woman noticed. Smiled. That did something warm beneath Deja’s ribs. Interesting. Very interesting. Dalia stood. The leash moved. Deja rose with her. The man stepped back to give them space. Another point in his favor. The woman looked at Deja. “Lead?” Deja smiled. “No.” Then glanced toward Dalia. “She does.” The woman’s eyebrows lifted slightly. Not mockery. Interest. Dalia turned toward the corridor. Deja followed. The couple came behind them. The leash stayed loose. Visible. Natural. Deja felt something very different from the first booking. Then, she had been asking: Can I do this? Now: I want this. That was cleaner. Far cleaner. The private room was larger this time. Designed for more than two. Dalia entered first. Deja second. The couple followed. The door closed. For a few seconds, nobody moved. The man looked between Deja and Dalia. “Conversation first?” Deja smiled. “Yes.” The woman sat. The man remained standing. Dalia took one of the chairs, keeping the leash in hand. Deja sat closer to the couple. Not in Dalia’s lap. Not at her feet. Not performing the dynamic. Just wearing it. That mattered. The woman looked at her. “You’re very calm.” Deja tilted her head. “I’m not.” That got a laugh. The man smiled. “You hide it well.” “I have experience.” “Doing this?” Deja paused. “No.” The woman’s eyes sharpened. “First night?” Dalia’s expression did not move. Deja considered lying. Didn’t. “Yes.” The woman smiled wider. “Well.” The man looked impressed. “That explains nothing.” “Good.” Deja folded one leg over the other. “So. What do you want?” The couple exchanged a glance. That glance told Deja more than either answer would. Comfort. History. Coordination. Good. The woman answered first. “Not rushed.” The man nodded. “Not scripted.” Deja smiled. “Excellent.” The woman looked at Dalia. “And you?” Dalia removed the lollipop. “You’re booking both of us.” “Yes.” “So ask me too.” The woman smiled. “Fair.” Dalia leaned back. “My rules are almost the same as hers.” The man glanced toward the leash. “Almost?” Dalia’s mouth curved. “I hold that.” “Right.” “And if Deja says stop, everything stops.” The woman nodded. “Understood.” Deja looked at Dalia. That landed deeper than she expected. Not because it was new. Because Dalia had said everything. Not: Deja stops. Everything stops. That was the structure. Not symbolic. Functional. The conversation continued. Preferences. Limits. Simple things. Nothing unusual. Nothing that required negotiation beyond what four adults should have been able to handle without turning it into theater. Deja noticed something halfway through. She was not thinking about the money anymore. At all. She was thinking about the woman’s hands. The man’s voice. The way both of them looked at Dalia. The way Dalia looked back. The woman noticed Deja watching. “Something?” Deja smiled. “No.” The woman raised an eyebrow. “That looked like something.” Deja leaned slightly closer. “It was.” There. No hesitation. The woman’s smile changed. The room changed with it. Dalia saw. So did the man. No one hurried. Good. The first physical choice came naturally. The woman reached toward Deja. Paused. Deja closed the distance herself. The kiss was immediate. Not careful like Lena. Not rough either. Confident. Deja responded in kind. That made the woman smile against her. The man watched. Deja felt his attention. Liked it. Different. More layered. Then Dalia moved. Not to interrupt. To join. The woman looked toward her. Dalia waited. The woman reached out. Dalia took her hand. Smooth. Professional. Natural. Deja watched. That was the moment. Not the money. Not the agreement. Not even the attraction. This. Seeing Dalia work from inside the same room. Dalia was different with clients. Not fake. Not less Mai. Not less Dalia. More distributed. Her attention moved cleanly. Never rushed. Never absent. She did not dominate every beat because she could. She left space. Let silence work. Let other people choose. Deja had seen pieces of that before. Now she understood the shape. The man sat beside Deja. “Okay?” Deja looked at him. “Yes.” He touched her arm. Waited. She leaned closer. Yes. Again. Simple. Clean. Four people. Four centers. No one trying to turn it into choreography. That was the skill. Deja started to understand. The room gradually became warmer. The woman reached for Deja’s jacket and waited for the nod before opening it. The man asked Dalia the same question with his hand at the edge of her coat. Dalia answered yes without giving up the leash. Outer layers came away in stages rather than disappearing between paragraphs. Deja helped the woman out of her coat. Dalia let the man ease hers from one shoulder, then the other, and caught the leash handle again before it could slip between the cushions. Space narrowed. Breathing changed. When the four of them moved from kissing and touch into sex, nobody had to guess who wanted what. The woman drew Deja closer. The man looked to Dalia and got a clear nod before following. Deja felt the first sharp break in her own composure and laughed once against the woman’s shoulder, surprised by how much easier desire felt when it no longer had to prove anything. They did not rush past that first rise. For several breaths they stayed close, adjusting to one another, letting the room find a shared rhythm instead of forcing one. The couple responded differently. The woman wanted confidence. The man wanted clarity. Deja adapted. Not consciously after a while. That surprised her. She could feel when one needed attention. When one wanted to watch. When Dalia took more of the room. When she deliberately stepped back. At one point, Deja found herself laughing. Not because anything had gone wrong. Because the woman had said something filthy enough to catch her off guard. Dalia looked at Deja. Deja looked back. That small shared glance almost broke both of them. The man noticed. “You two do that a lot?” Deja smiled. “What?” “Talk without talking.” Dalia put the lollipop aside. “She’s learning.” Deja raised an eyebrow. “Careful.” The woman laughed. “I like her.” Dalia looked at Deja. “So do I.” That should not have landed as hard as it did. Deja covered it by leaning toward the woman again. Coward. She knew. Later, when the room slowed, Deja realized she was no longer thinking about whether she looked professional. She simply was. Present. Responsive. Sharp when useful. Soft when useful. Direct always. The couple gave clear feedback. Deja used it. Dalia used it differently. That was another lesson. Same information. Different style. Neither wrong. Deja liked that. A lot. Eventually the room settled. Nobody rushed the aftermath. For several breaths the four of them stayed where the last shared rhythm had left them. The woman’s hand remained in Deja’s. The man leaned against Dalia, and Dalia’s grip on the leash had softened until the line lay almost weightless between her and Deja. Only when breathing had steadied did anyone reach for water. Conversation returned after that. Quiet followed naturally instead of being imposed. The woman lay back against the cushions, smiling. The man sat beside her. Dalia was near Deja now. The leash still connected them. The woman looked at it. Then at Deja. “Still like that?” Deja glanced down. “Yes.” The woman smiled. “Good.” No analysis. No question why. Good. The man looked at Dalia. “You two work together often?” Dalia answered. “No.” He looked surprised. “Could’ve fooled me.” Deja looked at Dalia. Dalia’s eyes met hers. Something passed between them. Not pride. Not exactly. Recognition. The woman looked at Deja. “First night?” Deja smiled. “Yes.” She shook her head. “Bullshit.” Deja laughed. “Not bullshit.” The man leaned back. “Then you learn fast.” Deja looked at Dalia. Dalia’s expression remained composed. Barely. Deja smiled sweetly. “I have good supervision.” Dalia turned her head. That almost got her. The woman noticed. “Was that a joke?” Deja looked innocent. “No.” Dalia looked toward the ceiling. The couple laughed. Later, after they left, the room felt unusually empty. Deja stood in the middle of it. Dalia closed the door. Silence. Deja looked at her. Dalia waited. The leash rested loose between them. Deja smiled. “That was different.” “Yes.” “Very.” “Yes.” Deja folded her arms. “You’re annoyingly good at this.” Dalia’s mouth curved. “So are you.” “Not yet.” “No.” Deja stared. Dalia smiled. “You wanted honesty.” “I regret that.” “No, you don’t.” Deja exhaled. Then looked toward the door. The answer was already there. She knew before Dalia asked. That was new too. Dalia noticed. “Done?” Deja looked back. “No.” Dalia’s eyes warmed. “Sure?” “Yes.” No pause. No maybe. Not forever. Not tomorrow. Not a career. Just tonight. Deja reached up and touched the collar. Then looked at the leash. Then at Dalia. “I want another.” Dalia nodded. “Okay.” Deja smiled. This time the word felt completely different. Okay. Not a test. Not curiosity. Not a question. A choice. --- # CHAPTER 9 — AVAILABLE The next booking came faster than Deja expected. Not immediately. That would have been easier to dismiss as momentum. She and Dalia had barely made it back to the booth before Suzie appeared beside them, glanced at Deja, and asked one question. “Still available?” Deja looked at Dalia. Not for permission. Habit. Dalia’s hand rested loosely around the leash. No movement. No answer supplied. Deja looked back at Suzie. “Yes.” Suzie nodded. “Solo.” “Fine.” “Twenty.” “Fine.” “Known client.” “Good.” Suzie’s mouth twitched. “You planning to make me do all the talking?” Deja smiled. “No.” “Good.” She stepped aside. A woman stood a short distance away. Late twenties. Maybe early thirties. Small. Sharp black suit. Silver cyberware visible along one cheekbone. Confident posture. Less confident eyes. Deja noticed that immediately. The woman looked at Dalia first. Then Deja. Then the leash. Then back to Deja. “Hi.” “Hi.” Suzie left them. No ceremony. No introduction speech. The woman looked at Deja. “Twenty?” “Yes.” “And she stays?” “Yes.” Dalia lifted the leash handle slightly. The woman nodded. “No problem.” Good. The payment cleared. Simple. Done. Deja felt something settle again. Not like the first time. No shock. No sense of crossing some huge invisible line. This time it was just: Work. That was new. The woman gave her name as Riva. Deja nodded once. “Riva.” “Deja.” Simple. Enough. They moved toward one of the smaller private rooms. Dalia followed. Leash loose. Visible. Natural. Inside, Riva sat first. Deja remained standing for a moment. Not theatrical. Just watching. Riva looked composed. Too composed. Deja had seen that kind of posture before. Kiro saw it constantly. People who believed stillness counted as control. Usually it just meant they were holding too much tension in one place. Deja sat opposite her. “What do you want?” Riva smiled. “Direct.” “Yes.” “I was warned.” “By who?” “Suzie.” Deja looked toward the door. “Traitor.” Riva laughed. Good. That helped. Then the laugh disappeared again. Not completely. Enough. “I don’t know.” Deja leaned back. “Okay.” Riva looked surprised. “That’s it?” “Yes.” “You’re not going to ask twenty questions?” “I might.” That got another laugh. “But not because you don’t know.” Deja tilted her head. “Not knowing is fine.” Riva looked at her. Something loosened. Very slightly. Deja noticed. Did not comment. “What do you know?” Riva thought. “I wanted to book you.” “Good start.” “I liked the look.” Deja glanced down at herself. “Ivory?” “The whole thing.” A glance toward the collar. Then the leash. Deja caught it. Riva immediately looked back up. “I know that’s not mine.” Deja smiled. “Excellent.” “I listened.” “Even better.” Dalia said nothing. But Deja could feel the amusement from across the room. Riva continued. “I like…” She stopped. Deja waited. Riva looked annoyed with herself. Deja recognized that too. Not uncertainty. Frustration at uncertainty. Different. “You don’t have to make it sound good,” Deja said. Riva looked at her. “What?” “You’re editing.” A pause. “Am I?” “Yes.” Deja smiled. “Stop.” That worked. Riva laughed under her breath. “Okay.” Then she tried again. Plain language this time. Better. Much better. Deja listened. Asked one question. Then another. No lecture. No interrogation. Just enough to turn vague edges into something usable. Riva gradually stopped sitting like she was in a negotiation. That was probably the biggest success of the first five minutes. The booking itself followed naturally from there. Not perfect. Not dramatic. Good. Riva reached for Deja’s hand first and stopped just short of contact. Deja closed the remaining distance herself. That tiny choice did more for Riva’s posture than another five minutes of questions would have. Their first kiss came without performance. Riva relaxed into it, then pulled back long enough to ask before opening Deja’s jacket. Deja said yes, helped Riva out of her own sharp black coat, and let the room become less formal one layer at a time. When the booking became sex, the transition was just as clear. Riva asked. Deja answered. Dalia stayed in sight with the leash loose in her hand. The first pleasure that broke through Riva’s careful composure came as a surprised laugh and a hand tightening around Deja’s. Deja smiled, slowed rather than accelerated, and let the moment settle before continuing. Riva was responsive once she stopped trying to predict the “correct” answer. Deja discovered that she liked that kind of client. Not because uncertainty was attractive. Because honesty was. Once Riva stopped filtering, everything became easier. Deja could read her. Not guess. Read. There was a difference. Dalia stayed where Deja could always see her. Sometimes close. Sometimes farther away. Never absent. Never intruding. The leash remained the quiet line through the room. Once, Riva’s hand moved toward it almost automatically. She stopped herself before touching. Deja noticed. Riva noticed Deja noticing. “Sorry.” “Good catch.” That was it. No tension. No scolding. No performance. Riva nodded. And they continued. Deja liked that too. She was starting to understand that not every boundary needed weight. Sometimes the cleanest response was simply: There. Fixed. Move on. Later, Riva laughed at something Deja said. Not because it was especially funny. Because Deja had delivered it with the same soft expression that kept misleading everyone. Riva looked at her. “You really don’t match your face.” Deja smiled pleasantly. “I get that a lot.” “You look sweet.” “I am sweet.” Dalia made a sound. Deja turned her head. “What?” “Nothing.” “That was absolutely something.” Dalia put the lollipop back in her mouth. Riva laughed harder. Deja narrowed her eyes at Dalia. “Careful.” The leash moved once. Barely. Deja felt it. Settled. And smiled. Riva saw that. Not the meaning. Just the result. She looked between them. “You two have been doing this a long time?” Dalia answered. “No.” Riva looked surprised. Deja smiled. “We cheat.” “How?” “We already know each other.” That was enough truth. No need for more. Riva accepted it. Good. The rest of the booking passed easily. Not because Deja had become expert. Because she stopped trying to look like one. That helped more than anything. When Riva hesitated, Deja slowed down. When Riva became clear, Deja followed. When something worked, she did not overthink why. When it did not, she changed direction. Simple. Present. Professional. By the end, Deja was tired again. But less mentally overloaded than after Lena. That mattered. Riva sat beside her afterward, water in hand. “Can I say something?” Deja looked at her. “That depends.” Riva smiled. “You’re easier to talk to than you look.” Deja frowned. “That makes no sense.” “I know.” “Try again.” Riva laughed. “You look soft.” “I’ve been told.” “But you don’t let me bullshit you.” Deja smiled. “Better.” “And somehow that makes it easier.” There. Deja felt that one land. Not as revelation. Just recognition. Something she had already begun to notice from the inside. “Good.” Riva looked at Dalia. “She always this pleased with herself?” Dalia answered immediately. “Yes.” Deja turned. “Traitor.” Dalia smiled. Riva stood. Adjusted her jacket. Then looked at Deja. “I’d book you again.” Deja did not freeze this time. Did not overanalyze it. “Good.” Riva waited. Deja smiled. “That’s not a promise.” Riva laughed. “Fair.” She left. The door closed. Deja remained seated. Dalia did not ask how she was immediately. Good. Deja drank water. Then looked toward the door. “That was easier.” “Yes.” “Not because she was easier.” “No.” Deja looked at Dalia. “I was.” Dalia smiled. “Yes.” Deja nodded. That felt right. No grand discovery. No title. No method. Just less friction. Less trying. More Deja. They returned to the main room. Suzie saw them. Raised one eyebrow. Deja answered before she could ask. “Still available.” Suzie nodded once. That was all. Deja and Dalia moved back toward the booth. Leash visible. Dalia holding the other end. And this time, when someone across the room noticed Deja and held her gaze— Deja did not wonder whether she looked like she belonged there. She wondered whether they were worth twenty thousand. --- # CHAPTER 10 — LATE BOOTH By midnight, Deja had stopped checking the time. That surprised her. Not because the night had become effortless. It definitely had not. She was tired. Her feet hurt slightly. Her attention had been stretched in ways netrunning never managed, because people did not behave like systems no matter how much Mandi insisted otherwise. But she had stopped waiting for the night to tell her whether she belonged in it. That question had quietly died somewhere between Riva leaving and Suzie asking if she was still available. The answer had become obvious. For tonight— yes. Deja belonged here. She and Dalia returned to the booth after another conversation that had almost become a booking and then did not. Deja had declined it. Nothing dramatic. The potential client wanted a kind of dynamic Deja had no interest in providing. He had accepted the answer. Suzie had moved on. Nobody died. Deja was beginning to enjoy how uncomplicated that could be. She slid into the booth. Dalia followed. The leash settled between them. Again. Still visible. Still attached. Still strangely comforting. Deja leaned back hard enough that her head touched the seat. Dalia looked at her. “Tired?” “Yes.” “Done?” Deja closed her eyes. “Maybe.” Dalia smiled. Deja opened one eye. “Do not.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You smiled.” “I’m allowed.” “Debatable.” Dalia took the menthol lollipop from her mouth and set it on its wrapper. That alone told Deja something. Dalia was tired too. Not exhausted. Just enough that the carefully controlled Dalia presentation had softened around the edges. Deja liked seeing that. She looked across the room. Lizzie’s was still busy. Jig-Jig outside would remain alive long after sensible people went home. Mandi, apparently, had decided to test the theoretical upper limits of professional stamina. Deja had seen her twice in the last hour. The first time Mandi had been walking past with a client. The second time she had been walking back without one. She had raised one hand at Deja. Opened her mouth. Then Suzie had pointed toward somebody else. Mandi had looked at the ceiling. Deja had laughed until Dalia nudged her. Now Mandi was nowhere visible. Again. Deja looked at Dalia. “How many?” Dalia knew exactly what she meant. “I lost count.” “That’s concerning.” “For Mandi?” “For civilization.” Dalia smiled. “She likes busy nights.” “I noticed.” “You liked yours.” Deja looked at her. “Yes.” No hesitation. That was new too. Dalia did not make anything of it. Good. Deja rested one hand loosely beside the leash. Not holding it. Just near it. “You know what’s strange?” “A dangerous opening.” “I’m serious.” Dalia turned slightly toward her. “Okay.” Deja watched the room. “I thought the difficult part would be strangers.” Dalia waited. “It isn’t.” “What is?” Deja thought. “Staying present.” Dalia nodded. “Yeah.” “That sounds stupid.” “No.” “It feels obvious now.” “Most things do after you learn them.” Deja looked at her. “Was that wisdom?” “Don’t spread it around.” “Your reputation?” “Exactly.” Deja smiled. Then went quiet. Across the room, a woman was arguing with one of her friends over something neither of them appeared particularly angry about. Someone laughed near the bar. A joytoy Deja had met yesterday passed by, noticed her, then noticed the leash. She gave Deja a tiny smile. Not teasing. Recognition. Deja returned it. That felt unexpectedly good. A day ago she had been a visitor. Tonight she was still new. But not quite outside anymore. Dalia saw the exchange. “You okay?” Deja looked at her. “You ask that a lot.” “Yes.” “Occupational hazard?” “Something like that.” Deja smiled. “I’m good.” Dalia studied her. Then nodded. No interrogation. Deja appreciated that more every hour. A shadow fell across the table. Mandi. Finally. She dropped into the booth opposite them with all the grace of somebody whose body had submitted a formal complaint. Deja stared. Mandi stared back. Dalia looked between them. Nobody spoke. Mandi reached for Dalia’s water. Dalia slapped her hand away. “Get your own.” “I’m dying.” “You say that every twenty minutes.” “Because nobody helps me.” Deja tilted her head. “You’ve been paid enough tonight to buy a small medical team.” Mandi pointed weakly at her. “Cruel.” “Accurate.” Mandi looked at Dalia. “She’s enjoying this.” “Yes.” “Too much.” “Yes.” Deja smiled. Mandi leaned back. “How many?” Deja frowned. “You ask everybody that?” “Only people I care about.” That took some of the bite out of Deja’s response before it formed. She answered. “Enough.” Mandi smiled. “That’s not a number.” “I know.” “Good answer.” Deja looked at her. “You’re getting sentimental.” “I’m tired.” “That explains nothing.” “It explains everything.” Dalia handed Mandi a fresh bottle of water from beside the seat. Mandi took it immediately. “See? Love.” “Hydration.” “Same thing.” She drank half of it. Deja watched. Mandi looked genuinely tired. Also genuinely happy. That combination made more sense now. Much more. “You were right,” Deja said. Mandi lowered the bottle. The expression on her face became instantly unbearable. “About?” Deja regretted speaking. Dalia already looked amused. Deja sighed. “The work.” Mandi’s grin widened. “You’ll need to narrow that down. I’m right frequently.” “No, you aren’t.” “Statistically—” “Mandi.” “Fine.” Deja looked down at the leash. Then back up. “It isn’t pretending.” Mandi’s expression softened. “No.” “And liking somebody doesn’t make it less professional.” “No.” “And not wanting somebody doesn’t mean I’m bad at it.” “No.” Deja nodded. Mandi waited. “That’s all.” Mandi blinked. “You made me stop being annoying for that?” “It was worth the novelty.” Dalia laughed. Mandi stared at Deja. Then smiled. “You’re going to be good at this.” Deja shook her head. “I am good at this.” Silence. Dalia turned toward her. Mandi’s eyebrows rose. Deja froze for exactly one second. Then realized she meant it. Not brilliant. Not experienced. Not Mandi. Not Dalia. But good. Already. She looked at both women. “What?” Mandi slowly smiled. “Oh.” “Don’t.” “Oh, that was beautiful.” “Fuck off.” “There she is.” Dalia picked up her lollipop again. Her eyes were warm. Deja noticed. Looked away. Coward. Again. Mandi took another drink. Then glanced toward the room. Her expression changed. Professional attention returning. Deja saw it happen. Again. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Dalia followed her gaze. A man near the bar had caught Mandi’s eye. He lifted two fingers. Mandi closed hers. “No.” Deja smiled. Mandi looked at her. “No.” Deja’s smile widened. “Busy night?” “Shut up.” “Your poor—” Mandi pointed at her. “Do not finish that sentence.” Dalia nearly lost the lollipop again. Deja folded her hands innocently. “I wasn’t going to say anything.” “You were.” “Can you prove it?” “You said it earlier.” “Prior statements are not evidence of future intent.” Mandi stared at her. “You are absolutely Kiro.” Deja smiled. “No.” Mandi paused. Then nodded. “No.” Something small passed between them. Recognition. Not loss. Kiro was still there. Deja was not replacing her. Just widening the map. Mandi stood reluctantly. “If I die—” “We’ll invoice your next client,” Deja said. Dalia covered her face. Mandi looked wounded. “You see what you’ve created?” Dalia looked at Deja. “I like her.” “Traitor.” Mandi walked away. Deja watched her cross the room. The client met her halfway. Mandi smiled. And just like that, tired disappeared behind professional focus. Not false. Directed. Deja understood that now too. She looked back at Dalia. “I might be done.” Dalia nodded. “Okay.” “No argument?” “No.” “No attempt to squeeze another twenty out of me?” Dalia’s eyebrows rose. “Do you want me to?” “No.” “Then why would I?” Deja smiled. “Checking.” “Still suspicious.” “Always.” They stayed. No urgency to leave. No reason to make a decision immediately. The leash rested across Dalia’s lap. Deja’s hand remained near it. A comfortable line. The night around them began to feel less like work and more like aftermath. That was when Dalia went still. Not visibly enough for anyone else to notice. Deja did. She followed Dalia’s gaze. Toward the entrance. A woman had just walked in. Elegant. Familiar. Very familiar. Deja’s entire brain stopped for one clean second. Oh, fuck. Leona. She looked exactly like herself. No cover. No reason for one. No clue what she had just walked into. Deja looked at Dalia. Dalia looked back. Neither spoke. The face meshes held. Of course they held. That was what they were built to do. Leona’s eyes moved across the room. Past Mandi. Past the bar. Past two joytoys talking near the wall. Then— Dalia. Deja. The visible collar. The leash. Her gaze stopped. Deja felt something cold and delighted travel straight down her spine. Dalia very slowly put the menthol lollipop back between her lips. Leona looked at Deja again. Longer this time. No recognition. None. Just interest. Very definite interest. Deja leaned slightly toward Dalia. Barely moving her lips. “This is your fault.” Dalia’s eyes stayed on Leona. “How?” “I’ll decide later.” Leona started walking toward them. Dalia’s fingers tightened around the leash handle. Just once. Deja felt it. Not warning. Not control. Shared understanding. They both knew exactly who was approaching. Leona knew neither of them. And judging by the way her attention kept returning to Deja— apparently some tastes survived a change of face perfectly well. --- # CHAPTER 11 — SAME TASTE, DIFFERENT FACE Leona stopped beside the booth. Up close, the situation became worse. Or better. Deja had not decided. Leona looked first at Dalia. Then at Deja. Then at the leash. Then back at Deja. No recognition. None. Not even the slightest narrowing of the eyes. No pause that lasted half a beat too long. No subconscious familiarity. The face mesh worked. The hair worked. The eyes worked. The entire cover worked. Deja should have found that reassuring. Instead, she had to fight the urge to laugh. Because Leona was still looking at her exactly the way she had looked at Kiro before. Different face. Same taste. Dalia knew it too. Deja could tell from the absolute stillness of her expression. That kind of stillness was never neutral. Leona smiled. “Evening.” Dalia answered first. “Evening.” Deja gave her a small smile. “Hi.” Leona’s gaze stayed on her. Interested. Very interested. Then she looked toward Dalia again. “You two working?” Dalia removed the menthol lollipop. “Yes.” Leona glanced toward Deja. “Both?” There it was. Deja looked at Dalia. Not for permission. Shared recognition. Dalia’s eyes met hers. The leash rested across her lap. Still loose. Still theirs. Deja looked back at Leona. “Yes.” Leona smiled wider. “Good.” Deja nearly lost it. Dalia saw. Of course she did. One tiny movement of her fingers around the leash handle. Behave. Not literally. But close enough. Deja’s mouth twitched. Leona noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “That looked like something.” Deja smiled. “Occupational hazard.” Leona laughed. That made it worse. Same laugh. Same timing. Same easy confidence. Dalia put the lollipop back between her lips, probably because it gave her something to do other than grin. Leona looked at the leash again. “Can I ask?” Dalia nodded. “The collar and leash part of the booking?” “No.” Dalia answered immediately. Leona looked back at Deja. “Yours?” “Ours.” “Understood.” No disappointment. No negotiation. No attempt to turn it into something she had access to. Deja knew she would answer correctly. That was the problem. She already knew far too much. Leona looked at Dalia. “You hold it the whole time?” “Yes.” “And that stays?” “Yes.” “Fine with me.” Of course it was. Deja lowered her gaze for half a second. Dalia noticed. Leona did not. Good. Leona sat opposite them. Not quite close enough to make the conversation presumptuous. Good distance. Also familiar. Deja hated how much she noticed. Leona looked between them. “Price?” Dalia answered with perfect calm. “Seventy-five.” Leona did not blink. “Fine.” The transfer happened almost immediately. No bargaining. No pause. No little corpo ritual of pretending money mattered more than it did. Just paid. Dalia confirmed it. Then looked at Deja. The professional check. Not the private one. “Still yes?” Deja looked at Leona. Her answer arrived before she could make it slower. “Yes.” Leona smiled. Dalia saw that too. Of course she did. Deja gave her a look. Dalia’s face remained perfectly composed. Bitch. Leona leaned back slightly. “So.” Deja already knew what came next. Preferences. Boundaries. Pace. What Leona liked. What she did not. What she would say first. What she would reveal later. Deja knew. Almost all of it. Which meant the next ten minutes were going to be dangerous in an entirely new way. She smiled. “What do you want?” Leona tilted her head. “Straight to it?” “Yes.” “I like that.” I know. Deja kept the thought behind her teeth. Leona considered. “Both of you.” Dalia’s mouth curved around the lollipop. “That part we established.” Leona smiled. “Fair.” She looked at Deja again. “More attention from you.” Deja felt Dalia’s gaze hit the side of her face. She ignored it. “Why?” Leona smiled. “Do I need a reason?” “Yes.” That surprised her. Good. Leona laughed. “Okay.” She looked Deja over again. Not rudely. Appreciatively. “You’re my type.” There it was. Deja looked at Dalia. Dalia stared straight ahead. Absolute professional discipline. Deja wanted to strangle her. Later. Leona continued. “Soft face. Sharp eyes.” Deja almost laughed. Interesting. Close. Not quite. Dalia’s expression twitched. Tiny. Dangerous. Deja looked back at Leona. “And?” Leona raised an eyebrow. “You want the full review?” “Yes.” “All right.” She leaned forward slightly. “You look like you’d be polite until somebody gave you a reason not to be.” Dalia coughed. Deja turned. “Problem?” Dalia shook her head. “No.” Leona looked between them. “You two have history?” Deja answered instantly. “Yes.” True enough. Leona nodded. “Makes sense.” She looked back at Deja. “And I like the hair.” “Venom.” “Good name.” Deja smiled. “I thought so.” Leona’s attention dropped briefly toward the ivory outfit. Then the collar. Then back up. “And the contrast.” Deja knew that too. Leona liked contrast. Soft and sharp. Controlled and unfiltered. Still and sudden. She had liked it before. Apparently she liked it now. Dalia finally spoke. “What about me?” Leona turned toward her. Deja saw the shift. Different attraction. Not lesser. Different. Leona’s smile became slower. “You look like trouble.” Dalia removed the lollipop. “Lazy answer.” Leona laughed. “Okay.” She looked Dalia over properly. “You look like you know exactly what you’re doing.” Dalia’s eyes warmed. “Better.” “And you look like you’d enjoy making me admit I like it.” Deja looked at Dalia. Dalia looked back. That one landed. Good. Leona was not only Deja’s client. Important. Dalia leaned back. “Maybe.” Leona smiled. There. The balance changed. Good. Deja needed that. If Leona focused too much on her, there was a real risk she would start reacting from memory instead of from the room. Dalia knew that. Probably why she stepped in. Not rescuing. Redistributing. Professional. Leona looked between them again. “Anything I should know before we go somewhere quieter?” Deja forced herself to wait. Dalia answered first. “The usual.” Leona nodded. “Which usual?” “Clear yes.” “Yes.” “Clear no.” “Yes.” “If either changes, we stop.” “Yes.” “The leash stays with me.” “Yes.” “You don’t touch it unless Deja says otherwise.” Leona looked at Deja. Deja answered. “Don’t.” “Easy.” Good. Too good. Deja hated knowing the answer before it came. Leona leaned back. “My turn?” Dalia nodded. Leona listed her boundaries. Deja knew every single one. Of course she did. Not word for word. But enough. One preference came first. Exactly where Deja expected. Then another. Then the one she knew Leona would phrase carefully. Deja kept her face still. Dalia did not look at her. Smart. Leona finished. Then looked at Deja. “Questions?” Deja had several. Only one was real. The others she already knew the answers to. That made this absurd. She picked one she genuinely could not assume. “Anything changed recently?” Leona frowned slightly. “What do you mean?” “Preferences.” Good save. Leona thought. “One thing.” Ah. Good. New information. Deja listened. Actually listened. That grounded her. Leona explained. Deja asked one follow-up. Dalia finally looked at her. Not suspicious. Understanding. There. Now Deja was reading the client in front of her. Not the woman from before. That mattered. The rest of the conversation settled more naturally after that. Leona asked Deja a few questions too. Deja answered in Deja’s voice. Not Kiro’s habits. Not old familiarity. Present tense only. Eventually Leona smiled. “You’re good at this.” Deja smiled back. “Maybe.” Dalia looked at her. That answer was bullshit and all three of them knew it for different reasons. Leona stood. “So?” Dalia looked at Deja. Deja looked at Leona. No hesitation now. “Yes.” Dalia stood too. The leash shifted. Leona’s eyes followed it once. Then moved back to Deja. “Lead?” Deja almost smiled. Again. Same trap as before. Different person. She looked toward Dalia. “She does.” Leona’s expression sharpened with interest. Of course it did. Dalia stood smoothly and turned toward the corridor. Deja followed. Leona came after them. The leash remained loose. Visible. Natural. Deja could feel Dalia’s awareness through the other end. Not control. Not warning. Shared information. They both knew exactly how unfair this was. Leona knew neither of them. And Deja knew far too much about Leona. At the private-room door, Leona touched Deja’s arm lightly. Paused. Waited. Deja looked at the hand. Then up at her. “Yes.” Leona smiled. “Good.” Same smile. Deja almost laughed again. Dalia opened the door. Leona stepped inside. Deja followed. Then Dalia. The door closed. For one second, nobody moved. Leona looked at Deja. “You’re nervous.” Deja blinked. That one she had not expected. “A little.” “First time with me.” Deja stared. Dalia turned away. Fast. Very fast. Leona frowned. “What?” Dalia covered it with a cough. Deja’s entire body went rigid with suppressed laughter. Leona looked between them. “Did I say something?” Deja recovered first. “No.” Her voice was almost steady. “Nothing.” Leona looked unconvinced. Dalia put the menthol lollipop back in her mouth with the solemnity of someone arming a weapon. Deja looked at her. Dalia’s eyes said: Not one fucking word. Deja’s eyes answered: I know. Leona watched the exchange. “You really do talk without talking.” Deja smiled. “You noticed.” “I notice things.” Yes. You do. Deja kept that thought inside. Then she moved closer. Not from memory. Not because she already knew what Leona liked. Because Leona was here now. Different room. Different faces. Different names. Different agreement. And whatever Deja knew already— Leona still deserved to choose it again. --- # CHAPTER 12 — UNFAIR ADVANTAGE Leona sat first. Not because anyone told her to. Because she wanted to. That was familiar. Deja knew it before it happened. Which was exactly the problem. She stayed standing for a moment. Dalia moved to one side of the room, leash still in hand, posture relaxed. Professional. Present. Watching everything. Leona looked between them. “So.” Deja smiled. “So.” “You always make clients do the talking first?” “Usually.” “That sounds unfair.” “It is.” Leona laughed. Deja knew she would. She hated this. She loved this. Both were true. Leona leaned back. “All right.” Then she paused. Deja knew what was coming. Not the exact words. The shape. The hesitation before saying something she wanted but did not like stating too directly. Deja waited. Leona looked at her. “I like being watched.” There. Exactly. Deja kept her face still. Dalia did too. Leona continued. “Not constantly.” Deja nodded. “Okay.” “And not…” She stopped. Deja knew. Still waited. “Not like I’m performing.” “Yes.” Leona’s eyes sharpened. “You get that?” Deja smiled. “I get the distinction.” Good answer. Not: I know. Not: You always— Nothing impossible. Leona looked toward Dalia. “And you?” Dalia removed the lollipop. “I understand.” Leona nodded. Then looked back at Deja. “I also like…” She hesitated again. Deja felt the old knowledge rising. No. Let her say it. Leona smiled slightly. “This is ridiculous.” “No,” Deja said. “Yes, it is.” “You’re paying seventy-five thousand. You can probably survive saying what you want.” Leona blinked. Dalia’s mouth twitched. Leona laughed. “There it is.” “What?” “The mouth.” Deja smiled sweetly. “You noticed.” “I did.” Good. The tension loosened. Leona continued. Plainly this time. Deja listened. Actually listened. Even when she already knew. Especially then. Because memory was not consent. History was not permission. And knowing what Leona had liked before did not mean Deja got to assume she wanted it now. That distinction mattered more than ever. Leona finished. Deja nodded. “Anything you don’t want tonight?” Leona answered. One item. Same as before. Then another. Different. Deja caught it immediately. Changed preference. Important. She looked at Dalia. Dalia saw the recognition. Not the content. The fact. Deja turned back to Leona. “Anything else different lately?” Leona smiled. “You ask good questions.” “I charge accordingly.” That got another laugh. Dalia looked down for half a second. Probably hiding one too. Leona added one more thing. New. Good. That grounded Deja completely. This was not a reenactment. Not old memory in a new skin. It was tonight. Leona. Now. Deja. Now. That helped. A lot. Deja moved closer. Not too close. Leona watched. Interested. Deja stopped just outside easy reach. “Still good?” “Yes.” “Want me closer?” “Yes.” Deja stepped in. Leona smiled. There. Choice. Again. The first contact was light. Not because Deja guessed Leona preferred it. Because Leona had already told her enough to make that choice reasonable. Deja watched the response. Familiar. Very familiar. Still hers to read again. That distinction became almost funny. Leona’s breathing changed. Deja noticed. Of course she noticed. Dalia noticed too. The leash stayed loose. Deja could feel Dalia’s presence through it like a quiet baseline. Leona looked toward Dalia. “Closer.” Dalia stepped in. No rush. No performance. Leona watched her approach. Deja watched Leona watching. That was familiar too. Again: dangerous. Dalia reached them. Leona’s hand moved. Paused. Dalia nodded. Contact. Simple. Clean. Deja saw the exact point where Leona relaxed more deeply. She knew that point. Had seen it before. But this time she had to arrive there honestly. No shortcuts. That became strangely satisfying. Like solving a problem while refusing to use the answer key sitting open beside you. Leona looked at Deja. “You’re very observant.” Deja smiled. “Occupational hazard.” “New occupation?” Dangerous. Deja kept the smile. “New cover.” Leona’s eyebrows rose. “Cover?” Dalia looked at her. Deja caught herself. “Presentation.” Leona smiled. “Thought so.” Close. Not bad. Deja filed the mistake. Dalia’s expression said nothing. Which meant: we will discuss that later. Fantastic. Leona moved closer to Deja. The room changed. Not dramatically. Just enough. Deja let the moment breathe. No rushing. No using memory to jump ahead. Leona touched the edge of Deja’s ivory jacket and waited. “Yes,” Deja said. The jacket opened. Deja let Leona remove it, then returned the choice instead of the memory, asking before she touched Leona’s coat. Leona answered with a nod and a smile. Dalia joined only when Leona reached for her. She set the lollipop aside, kept the leash secure in one hand, and let Leona open the dark outer layer herself. Nothing vanished off-camera. Each reduction in distance belonged to somebody’s visible yes. When the three of them moved from kissing into sex, Deja made herself wait one fraction longer than memory wanted. “Still good?” Leona pulled her closer. “Yes.” The first response was familiar enough to be dangerous: Leona’s breath caught, then broke into a soft sound Deja already knew. Deja did not treat recognition as permission to hurry. She stayed with the response in front of her until Leona opened her eyes again. Dalia’s hand shifted on the leash. Not a command. A quiet reminder that Deja was here, now. Leona chose. Deja answered. Dalia joined when invited. Stepped back when not. The rhythm formed naturally. And this time Deja understood something new about Dalia’s professionalism. She was giving Deja more room. Deliberately. Not because Deja needed rescue. The opposite. Because Dalia knew exactly what Deja was carrying. Old knowledge. Old familiarity. A dangerous advantage. So Dalia let Deja manage it. Trusted her. That landed hard. Deja looked at her once. Dalia met the gaze. Tiny nod. Your client too. Your judgment. Deja understood. She turned back to Leona. And worked. Really worked. Not from memory. From response. If Leona leaned in, Deja followed. If Leona paused, Deja waited. If something familiar happened, Deja treated it as new information anyway. That was harder than it sounded. And much more rewarding. At one point Leona laughed softly. Deja stopped. “What?” “You’re strange.” Deja raised an eyebrow. “That’s vague.” Leona smiled. “You read me fast.” Dalia looked away. Deja wanted to kick her. “Do I?” “Yes.” “How fast?” “Fast enough that it’s annoying.” Deja smiled. “Good.” Leona laughed again. Then: “You learn fast.” There it was. Deja froze for exactly half a second. Dalia did not move. Did not breathe wrong. Did not betray anything. Professional miracle. Deja recovered. “I’ve been told.” Leona smiled. “First night?” Deja looked at her. “Yes.” “Bullshit.” Dalia made a tiny sound. Deja ignored it. “Not bullshit.” Leona studied her. “Then you’re unfairly good at this.” Deja almost lost it. Almost. Dalia finally turned away under the pretense of reaching for water. Coward. Deja looked at Leona. “Maybe you’re easy to read.” Leona’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Oh, fuck you.” Deja smiled. “That costs extra.” Silence. Then Leona laughed so hard she had to lean back. Dalia covered her mouth. Deja looked between them. “What?” Leona shook her head. “That face.” Deja smiled even more sweetly. “I have no idea what you mean.” “Yes, you do.” Dalia recovered first. Barely. Leona looked at her. “She always like this?” Dalia answered carefully. “More often than you’d expect.” True. Safe. Deja approved. The rest of the booking unfolded without strain. Not because Deja already knew Leona. Because the three of them had established enough trust that the room no longer needed constant verbal scaffolding. The camera of attention stayed alive. Choice. Response. Adjustment. Humor when it surfaced. Stillness when it mattered. Dalia never overreached. Deja never assumed. Leona never gave them a reason to doubt her clarity. That made the whole thing warm in a way Deja had not expected. Not nostalgic. Present. By the time the room quieted, Deja felt tired in the good way. Focused down to nothing. For a little while nobody separated. Leona stayed between them, one hand still resting against Deja, Dalia close enough that the leash had gone almost completely slack. Breathing slowed before conversation returned. That stillness mattered. It let the booking end as something shared rather than a switch being turned off. Leona sat between them now. Relaxed. Dalia handed her water. Leona took it. “Thanks.” Then looked at Deja. “You really are good.” Deja leaned back. “I know.” Leona smiled. “There’s the modesty.” “Expensive service.” Dalia laughed softly. Leona looked toward her. “And you.” Dalia raised an eyebrow. “You’re terrifyingly calm.” “I hear that sometimes.” “I like it.” Dalia’s mouth curved. “I noticed.” Deja looked at both of them. Interesting. Leona looked back at her. “Would you work again?” Dangerous question. Not identity-dangerous. Future-dangerous. Deja thought. Then answered honestly. “Yes.” Leona smiled. “Good.” No booking request. No regular-client setup. No future promise. Just approval. Perfect. Leona finished the water. Then stood. Adjusted her clothes. Looked at both of them. “Worth it.” Dalia nodded. “Good.” Deja smiled. “High praise.” “I’m very discerning.” “I noticed.” Leona moved toward the door. Stopped. Looked back at Deja. “Seriously.” Deja waited. “If this is actually your first night…” “It is.” Leona shook her head. “You’re going to be dangerous.” Deja smiled softly. “Maybe.” Leona laughed. Then left. The door closed. Silence. One second. Two. Three. Deja turned toward Dalia. Dalia was already looking at her. Neither spoke. The leash rested loose between them. Deja pointed one finger. “Not one fucking word.” Dalia’s face remained completely neutral. “I haven’t said anything.” “That is worse.” “I’m standing here.” “You’re thinking.” Dalia removed the menthol lollipop. “Loudly?” Deja stared. Dalia lasted exactly two seconds. Then she laughed. Deja covered her face with both hands. “Oh, fuck you.” Dalia laughed harder. Deja dropped her hands. “She picked me again.” That only made it worse. Dalia bent forward slightly, laughing now. Deja stared at the ceiling. “Same fucking taste.” Dalia managed: “Different face.” Deja pointed at her. “Do not.” Dalia straightened. Tried. Failed again. Deja looked toward the closed door. Leona gone. Still clueless. Perfectly happy. No recognition. No breach. No mistake large enough to matter. Just one tiny almost-slip with “cover.” Survivable. Deja exhaled. Then smiled despite herself. “That was unfair.” Dalia wiped at one eye. “For Leona?” “For me.” Dalia’s smile softened. “You did well.” Deja looked at her. That landed differently. Not professional praise. Not master approval. Something warmer. Trust returned. Deja nodded. “Yeah.” Then: “She still likes me.” Dalia’s mouth twitched again. Deja narrowed her eyes. “Careful.” “I didn’t say anything.” “Your entire face is a crime.” Dalia smiled. Deja shook her head. Then laughed too. Because really— what else was she supposed to do? --- # CHAPTER 13 — NOT ONE WORD The first thing Deja did after leaving the private room was stop walking. Dalia stopped with her. The leash stayed loose between them. For several seconds, neither spoke. Lizzie’s noise pushed in around them again. Bass. Voices. Glasses. Somebody laughing too loudly near the bar. All of it normal. None of it useful. Deja looked at Dalia. Dalia looked back. That was enough. “If you laugh, I’m charging you seventy-five.” Dalia’s mouth twitched. “For what service?” “Emotional damages.” “I haven’t said anything.” “You’re about to.” “I’m not.” “You absolutely are.” Dalia put the menthol lollipop back between her lips. Deja narrowed her eyes. “That is not a defense.” Dalia’s shoulders moved. Tiny. Dangerous. Deja stared. “She picked me again.” Dalia closed her eyes. That did it. She laughed. Not loudly. Worse. The kind of laugh she was trying to suppress and failing. Deja looked toward the ceiling. “Fuck.” Dalia leaned one hand against the wall. Still laughing. “Different face.” Deja turned. “Do not finish that.” Dalia recovered enough to breathe. “Same taste.” Deja pointed at her again. “You are an awful person.” Dalia smiled. “Yes.” “She did not recognize me.” “No.” “Not even slightly.” “No.” “And still.” Dalia nodded. “Still.” Deja dragged one hand down her face. The soft one. The completely unfamiliar one. “That is absurd.” “It is.” “It is statistically offensive.” Dalia tilted her head. “That sounds like Kiro.” “Shut up.” Dalia laughed again. Deja started walking. The leash moved. Dalia followed. By the time they reached the main room, Deja had almost recovered. Almost. Then Mandi appeared. Of course she did. She came out of another corridor with her jacket hanging open, orange hair still perfect in a way that felt insulting, black eyes bright despite the unmistakable fatigue around them. She saw Dalia. Saw Deja. Stopped. Looked between them. “Why do you both look guilty?” Deja answered immediately. “We don’t.” Mandi smiled. “You do.” Dalia put the lollipop back in her mouth. “Don’t.” Mandi’s eyebrows rose. “Oh.” Deja looked at Dalia. “You made it worse.” “I said one word.” “You said it like that.” Mandi moved closer. “Who?” Deja folded her arms. “No.” Mandi’s grin widened. “Who?” Dalia looked at Deja. Deja looked at Dalia. Mandi followed the exchange. Then froze. “No.” Deja said nothing. Mandi’s mouth opened. “No.” Dalia removed the lollipop. Mandi looked between them again. Then: “Leona?” Deja closed her eyes. Mandi made a sound. Not quite laughter. Not quite a scream. Something worse. “Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me.” Deja opened her eyes. “Quiet.” Mandi covered her mouth with both hands. That lasted less than a second. “She booked you?” Deja glared. “Both of us.” Mandi looked at Dalia. “Both?” Dalia nodded. “Seventy-five.” Mandi’s eyes widened. “Full?” “Yes.” Mandi turned back to Deja. “She paid seventy-five thousand to book Kiro again without knowing she was booking Kiro again.” Deja pointed at her. “Deja.” Mandi blinked. Then smiled. “Right. Sorry.” She was not sorry. Deja knew it. Dalia knew it. Mandi knew they knew it. Disaster. Mandi looked at Deja again. “Did she recognize you?” “No.” “Anything?” “No.” “Not even—” “No.” “Fuck.” “Yes.” Mandi started laughing. Deja stared. Dalia started again too. “Both of you are terrible.” Mandi wiped at one eye. “No, no. This is beautiful.” “It is not beautiful.” “It is cosmically beautiful.” “She still likes me.” Mandi stopped. Looked at Deja. Then immediately lost it again. Deja crossed her arms harder. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you.” “You didn’t tell me.” “You extracted it.” “I asked once.” “You asked three times.” “Efficient questioning.” “That is not what efficient means.” Dalia was still smiling. Mandi leaned toward Deja. “Did you know what she liked?” Deja looked at her. Mandi’s smile changed. Less comedy. More curiosity. Deja exhaled. “Yes.” Mandi nodded slowly. “And?” “I made her tell me.” Good. Mandi’s expression softened. “Good.” Deja looked at Dalia. Dalia nodded too. That was important. Deja continued. “She changed one thing.” Mandi’s eyebrows rose. “See?” “I know.” “That’s exactly why.” “I know.” Mandi smiled. “Good.” Deja looked suspicious. “What?” “Nothing.” “That was too professional.” “I can be professional.” “You’ve spent half the night being booked by apparently every adult in Japantown.” Mandi put one hand to her chest. “Word of mouth.” Dalia coughed. Deja looked at her. Mandi narrowed her eyes. “No.” Dalia’s eyes brightened. Deja’s mouth started moving before common sense could intervene. “Technically, at this point it’s probably more word of—” Mandi pointed at her. “Don’t.” Deja smiled. Soft. Sweet. Completely innocent. Mandi looked horrified. “Oh, no.” Dalia removed the lollipop. “What?” Mandi pointed at Deja. “That face.” Deja widened her eyes. “What about it?” “She knows exactly what she’s doing now.” Dalia smiled. “Yes.” Mandi looked betrayed. “You encouraged this.” “Absolutely.” Deja leaned slightly toward Mandi. “You seem tense.” Mandi stared. “Do not.” “Long night?” “Deja.” “Busy?” “Deja.” Dalia had started laughing again. Mandi looked at her. “This is your fault.” “No.” “You’re holding the leash.” “That does not control her mouth.” Deja smiled. “Nothing controls my mouth.” Silence. Mandi froze. Dalia froze. Deja froze. One second. Then Mandi slowly covered her face. Dalia turned away. Deja looked toward the ceiling. “Oh, fuck me.” Mandi’s shoulders started shaking. Dalia made a strangled sound. Deja pointed at both of them. “That was not intentional.” Mandi lowered her hands. “Sure.” “It wasn’t.” “Of course.” Dalia recovered enough to speak. “Very professional.” Deja glared. “Master.” Dalia’s expression changed instantly. Not dramatic. Just enough. Mandi saw it. Deja saw Mandi see it. Deja smiled. There. Revenge. Mandi looked between them. “Oh.” Dalia put the lollipop back between her lips. “Don’t.” Mandi raised both hands. “I said nothing.” Deja looked pleased. “Good.” Mandi stared at her. “You are terrifying.” “Premium.” “Stop using that.” “No.” The three of them moved toward the booth. For once, Mandi actually made it there without being intercepted. She dropped into the seat. Dalia sat opposite. Deja beside her. The leash rested across Dalia’s lap again. Mandi looked at it. Then Deja. Then Dalia. Then smiled. “What?” Deja asked. Mandi leaned back. “Nothing.” “That means something.” “It means this worked.” Deja frowned slightly. “What?” “You.” Mandi gestured vaguely. “Deja.” The humor thinned. Not gone. Just quieter. Deja looked down at the ivory fabric. The collar. The leash. Then back at Mandi. “Yes.” Mandi smiled. “You like her.” “Yes.” “You like the work.” Deja considered. “Yes.” Dalia watched her. Mandi continued. “You want to do it again.” Deja paused. Not because she did not know. Because saying it out loud mattered. “Yes.” No maybe. Mandi nodded. “Good.” Deja looked at Dalia. Dalia smiled. No triumph. No pressure. Just warmth. Deja leaned back. “Not tomorrow.” Mandi laughed. Dalia nodded. “Good.” “I’m serious.” “So am I.” Mandi lifted one hand. “I might need tomorrow.” Deja looked at her. “You might need a week.” Mandi smiled. “Jealous?” Deja’s expression turned soft. Dangerously soft. “No.” Mandi immediately sat straighter. “Oh, shit.” Dalia watched with interest. Deja took a drink. Then looked at Mandi. “I’m just impressed you can still walk normally.” Silence. Mandi stared. Dalia’s eyes widened. Deja smiled. Perfectly pleasant. Mandi slowly pointed at her. “Tomorrow morning.” Deja tilted her head. “What about it?” Mandi’s smile became dangerous. “Remember that sentence.” Deja looked amused. “Why?” Mandi leaned back. “No reason.” Dalia looked between them. Then at Mandi. Then smiled. Deja noticed. “What?” Dalia put the lollipop back in her mouth. “Nothing.” Deja frowned. Both of them were thinking something. Annoying. Fine. Future problem. For now, the night was ending. Not dramatically. No announcement. No victory speech. Just three women sitting in a booth after too many hours, too much work, too much laughter, and one statistically offensive coincidence. Deja was tired. Satisfied. Still wearing venom and ivory. Still collared. Still attached. Dalia still held the other end. And for the first time since Lena had asked if she would work again— Deja knew the answer without having to think about it. Yes. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. But again. Definitely again. --- # EPILOGUE — MORNING DAMAGE Morning arrived without mercy. The safehouse kitchen smelled like coffee, fried bread, something Shammy had put in a pan without consulting anyone, and the faint metallic warmth of a building that had been awake longer than most of its occupants. Kiro sat at the table. Kiro. Not Deja. The face mesh was gone. Warm brown-amber eyes replaced by her own. Venom hair gone. Ivory gone. No collar. No leash. Back to herself. Mostly. There was one thing that had not reset. The expression. She looked offensively satisfied with life. Not smug exactly. Worse. Calm. Loose. Rested enough. Coffee in one hand. The kind of quiet contentment that made Brenda suspicious before she had even sat down. Brenda looked at her. Then looked again. Kiro noticed. “What?” Brenda narrowed her eyes. “You look…” Iris entered behind her carrying two mugs. “Don’t.” Brenda turned. “I didn’t say anything.” “You were about to.” “I was going to say relaxed.” Iris looked at Kiro. Then back at Brenda. “That one’s safe.” Kiro took a drink. “Thank you for the clearance.” Brenda sat. Still looking at her. “You had a good night.” Kiro’s mouth curved. “Yes.” That was it. No evasion. No joke. No defensive technical answer. Just: Yes. Brenda’s eyebrows rose. Iris noticed that too. So did Shammy, who looked up from the pan. “Very good night?” Kiro considered. “Yes.” Shammy smiled. “Nice.” Brenda stared. “You’re all being disturbingly normal about this.” Iris sat beside her. “That is because we are adults.” Brenda looked around the table. “This house has never used that defense before.” Kiro smiled into her coffee. Shammy laughed. Then footsteps came from the hallway. Slow footsteps. Measured. Careful. Everyone looked. Ace appeared in the doorway. And stopped. There was absolutely nothing visibly wrong with her. Which somehow made the problem much more obvious. Hair back to normal. Eyes normal. Loose safehouse clothes. Expression composed. Movement— not normal. Ace crossed the kitchen with the concentration of someone negotiating a floor covered in invisible pressure plates. One careful step. Then another. Mai entered behind her. Saw the room. Saw everyone looking. Closed her eyes. Too late. Brenda’s mouth opened. Iris turned toward her. “No.” Brenda shut it. Barely. Ace reached the chair. Stopped. Looked at it. That was the fatal moment. Kiro slowly lowered her coffee. Ace began sitting down. Very carefully. Extremely carefully. Kiro watched the entire operation. Soft expression. Calm voice. Perfect timing. “Careful, Ace. At this rate you’re going to need a maintenance contract with Trauma Team.” Silence. Total. Absolute. Ace froze halfway down. Brenda made a noise that did not belong to any known language. Shammy folded over the counter. Mai covered her face with one hand. Iris stared at Kiro. Kiro took a sip of coffee. Completely serene. Ace finished sitting. Very slowly. Then looked at Kiro. “Fuck you.” Kiro smiled. “What? I’m being supportive.” Brenda lost it. Fully. She bent forward over the table, laughing hard enough that Iris had to move one mug out of danger. Shammy was gone. Completely gone. One hand braced against the counter. The other over her mouth. Mai looked at Ace. Then at Kiro. Then closed her eyes again. “I knew this was going to happen.” Ace stared at her. “You knew?” Mai opened one eye. “I suspected.” “That is worse.” Brenda tried to breathe. Failed. Iris patted her back once. Not particularly helpfully. Kiro took another drink. Ace looked at her. “You’re enjoying this far too much.” “Yes.” No hesitation. Again. Ace narrowed her eyes. “You were Deja for one night.” Kiro’s smile sharpened. “And apparently that was enough.” Brenda made another catastrophic sound. Iris looked toward the ceiling. “Breakfast.” Nobody listened. Ace leaned back in the chair. Immediately regretted it. Adjusted. Kiro noticed. Of course she did. Ace caught her looking. “Don’t.” Kiro lifted one hand. “I said nothing.” “You were about to.” “No.” “Your face was.” Brenda looked between them. “Oh my god.” Iris turned. “No.” Brenda pointed at Kiro. “She kept it.” Kiro raised an eyebrow. “Kept what?” “The mouth.” Silence. Shammy collapsed again. Mai actually laughed this time. Kiro looked at Brenda. Then at Ace. Then smiled. “Apparently.” Ace muttered something into her coffee that nobody needed clarified. Iris looked at Kiro more carefully now. Not disapproving. Curious. “You really enjoyed it.” The room quieted slightly. Kiro looked at her. “Yes.” No joke. No cover. No Deja voice. Just Kiro. Brenda stopped laughing enough to listen. Mai leaned against the counter. Shammy turned down the heat under the pan. Iris asked: “The work?” Kiro thought. Then nodded. “Yes.” A pause. “The whole thing?” Kiro looked down at her coffee. “Not every client.” “Of course.” “But yes.” She looked up. “The work.” Mai’s expression softened. Ace did too. Even while sitting like someone with a personal disagreement with gravity. Kiro continued. “I liked being Deja.” Brenda smiled. Kiro noticed. “And I liked the leash.” That got Brenda’s full attention again. Iris saw it. Filed it. Kiro continued before anyone could interrupt. “But that wasn’t the same as working.” Mai nodded. “No.” Kiro smiled slightly. “I know that now.” Shammy leaned against the counter. “And?” Kiro looked at her. “And I liked that too.” Simple. Clean. No embarrassment. Ace smiled. “Good.” Kiro looked at her. Then down. Then back up. The smile changed. Ace saw it. “Oh, no.” Kiro took another sip. “Nothing.” Mai laughed softly. Brenda immediately brightened. “What?” Ace pointed at Kiro. “Do not encourage her.” “I haven’t said anything.” “That has not helped so far.” Brenda looked delighted. Iris looked resigned. Shammy put breakfast on the table. That temporarily redirected everyone. Food. Coffee. Plates. Domestic gravity. Ace moved with continued, visible care. Kiro noticed every single time. To her credit, she only commented once more. Ace reached for something across the table. Stopped halfway. Changed angle. Kiro looked at her. “Trauma Team has family plans, you know.” Ace closed her eyes. Brenda nearly died again. Mai hit the table with one hand. Shammy laughed into her drink. Iris finally pointed at Kiro. “That one was unnecessary.” Kiro smiled. “Yes.” “Good.” “Still worth it.” Iris shook her head. But she was smiling. The morning settled. Eventually. Mostly. And somewhere between breakfast and the second pot of coffee, the night before stopped being an event requiring discussion. It became memory. A good one. A ridiculous one. A useful one. Deja had worked. Not as Kiro pretending. Not as Mandi imitation. Not as Dalia’s extension. As herself. Different face. Different presentation. Same voice. Sharper mouth. And an answer she no longer needed to search for. She would do it again. Not today. Definitely not today. Maybe not soon. But again. Across the table, Brenda watched Kiro for a moment. Then Ace. Then Mai. Something thoughtful returned to her face. Quiet. Small. Iris noticed. Of course she did. This time she did not ask. Kiro caught it too. Said nothing. Brenda looked down at her coffee. And smiled to herself. Just slightly. One person’s maybe had become yes. Somewhere else in the safehouse— another maybe had only just begun.