![[Ace 182.9.png]] ## CHAPTER 1 — VICTOR Victor looked up when the clinic door opened. Reyes stepped inside, let the door close behind her, and waited. Victor looked at her. Reyes looked at Victor. Neither said anything. After several seconds, Reyes sighed. “Don't.” Victor leaned back in his chair. “I haven't said anything.” “You're about to.” “Morning?” “That wasn't it.” “Still morning.” “Vic.” Victor smiled. “Morning, Reyes.” “Morning.” She crossed the clinic and stopped beside the chair. No black operational hair. No armor. No obvious injuries. No blood. No damaged chrome. No expression suggesting somebody else was bleeding somewhere nearby and Victor was about to be asked whether a severed limb counted as an emergency if the owner was still arguing. By Reyes standards, this was already an excellent appointment. Victor folded his arms. “What do you need?” “Voice.” That narrowed things considerably. Victor turned toward the terminal. “Birgitta?” “Yes.” He opened the familiar profile. The settings were still there. Higher than Reyes's natural voice. Brighter. More openly lively. Different enough that Birgitta did not merely sound like Reyes performing a character. Victor had done the work properly the first time. And Reyes had already proven she could live with it considerably longer than a single shift. Victor brought up the duration field. “How long?” “Seven days.” His hand stopped. Not because seven days was medically unusual. Because it wasn't. Victor slowly turned his head. “Again?” Reyes met his eyes. “Yes.” Victor looked at her for another second. Then: “Panam?” “Goddammit, Vic.” Victor turned back to the terminal. “Seven days.” “Yes.” “With the same profile.” “Yes.” “And I'm apparently not allowed to ask the obvious question.” “You already did.” “Fair.” Reyes folded her arms. Victor entered the duration. He didn't need to ask whether her body could tolerate it. They had already answered that question. The previous seven-day sculpt a few weeks earlier had lasted exactly as intended. No instability. No unexpected pain. No complications. And Reyes had spent almost the entire period accompanying Panam on a courier run through the Badlands. Driving. Deliveries. Loading and unloading. Fuel stops. Roadside food. Motels. Mornings. Long stretches inside the truck with nowhere else either of them needed to be. A full working week in which Reyes had not simply used Birgitta for a booking or a night out. She had lived as her. Victor glanced sideways. Reyes caught it. “What?” “Nothing.” “That was definitely something.” “Medical observation.” “You're staring at me.” “Also medical.” “Bullshit.” Victor smiled and returned to the settings. The first seven days had been practical. At least that was how Reyes had presented it. A long trip required a long-lasting voice. Simple. Perfectly reasonable. Victor had accepted that explanation because technically it was true. This time there was no truck waiting outside. No courier schedule. No Badlands route. No practical reason Reyes needed Birgitta's voice for an entire week. Victor did not point this out. He enjoyed being alive. Mostly. He finished entering the parameters. “Same tolerance as last time?” “Yes.” “No pain afterward?” “No.” “Voice returned normally?” “Yes.” “Any soreness?” “Nothing unusual.” “Anything unusual you didn't tell me about because you decided it wasn't medically interesting?” Reyes considered. “No.” Victor turned around. “That pause concerns me.” “That pause was me deciding whether Panam counts as medically interesting.” Victor's eyebrows rose. Reyes closed her eyes. “Fuck.” Victor said nothing. “You heard nothing.” “I heard Panam.” “No, you didn't.” “Very clearly.” Reyes opened her eyes. Victor's expression was professionally neutral. Far too professionally neutral. “You're an asshole.” “Sit down.” Reyes sat. Victor began preparing the equipment. This part was familiar. So was the decision. That was what made the second time different. Reyes already knew what seven days meant. She knew what it felt like to wake up on the third morning and still hear Birgitta when she spoke. She knew what it felt like to spend an entire day without a transition back to Reyes. She knew how quickly the cover stopped feeling like something worn for a specific purpose and became simply the social shape she occupied. She knew what it was like to order breakfast as Birgitta. To talk to strangers as Birgitta. To sit beside Panam for hours as Birgitta. To fall asleep beside Panam. To wake beside her. There was no novelty left to hide behind. Reyes was asking for seven days because she wanted seven days. And yes. Panam was the reason. Not the only reason. But pretending otherwise would have been ridiculous. The courier week had changed something. Nothing dramatic. There had been no grand declaration. No single moment Reyes could point at and say _there, that was when it happened._ It had accumulated. Panam deciding where they stopped. Panam choosing food. Panam saying they were leaving. Panam taking her hand and expecting her to follow. Panam choosing a direction without explaining it. Small things. Ordinary things. And somewhere during that week, Reyes had noticed something deeply inconvenient. She liked it. More precisely: She liked it when Panam did it. That distinction had followed her all the way back to Night City. Victor touched her shoulder. “You with me?” “Yes.” “Good.” He adjusted the equipment. “Ready?” Reyes nodded. “Do it.” The procedure began. Pressure first. Then warmth. The strange, familiar sensation of something intimately hers being altered without ever ceasing to belong to her. Victor worked quietly. Reyes let him. There was no reason to think about the mechanics. She already knew the result. That left entirely too much room to think about Panam. The problem was that Panam did not seem to know she was doing it. That might have been what made it work. There was no performance. No deliberate display of authority. Panam simply had opinions about what should happen next and an extremely efficient habit of turning those opinions into reality. _We're stopping here._ _Come on._ _Sit._ _Eat._ _We're leaving._ And Birgitta— Reyes— had kept discovering that following those decisions felt good. Not because she couldn't make her own. That would have annoyed the shit out of her. Because she could. Because Panam knew she could. And because surrendering some of them anyway had begun to feel less like giving something up and more like placing it somewhere safe. That deserved investigation. Reyes almost laughed. Seven days of investigation. Very scientific. Victor adjusted something. “Say something.” Reyes opened her mouth. “Something.” Still Reyes. Victor made another adjustment. “Again.” “Something.” Closer. “Again.” Reyes inhaled. “Something.” Birgitta answered. Bright. Higher. Alive. Reyes stopped. Victor watched the diagnostics. “Again.” “You're enjoying this.” Birgitta said it. There she was. Victor smiled. “Voice is clean.” “That's not what I said.” “I heard you.” “Apparently not.” “Again.” Birgitta sighed dramatically. Victor checked another reading. “Perfect.” Reyes swallowed. Tested the shape of the voice herself. “Seven days.” Birgitta's voice made the words sound almost playful. Victor looked at her. “Again.” Reyes narrowed her eyes. Victor's smile became dangerous. “No.” “Didn't say anything.” “You didn't have to.” He finished the diagnostics. Everything was where it should be. Reyes spoke when asked. Different volume. Different cadence. A laugh. A longer sentence. No instability. No discomfort. No surprises. Technically, the second seven-day Birgitta sculpt was considerably less interesting than the first. Victor had a suspicion the week itself would compensate. He removed his gloves. “All good.” Reyes stood. Birgitta stood with her. The transition was subtle at first. A shift in posture. Shoulders loosening. Expression becoming more openly readable. The beginning of a smile that Reyes would normally have kept smaller. Victor had watched enough cover transformations in this clinic to recognize the difference between somebody putting on a disguise and somebody stepping into a version of herself she genuinely enjoyed. Birgitta was the second kind. “How long before you're meeting her?” Victor asked. Birgitta looked at him. “Who?” Victor stared. Birgitta held the expression for almost three seconds. Then laughed. “Okay, fair.” Victor shook his head. “Anything feels wrong, call.” “I know.” “Pain, call.” “I know.” “Voice starts slipping early—” “Call.” “Good.” Birgitta moved toward the door. Victor returned to his terminal. Her hand reached the control. “Reyes.” She looked back. Victor nodded toward her. “Have a good week.” For once, there was no teasing in it. Birgitta smiled. Warm. Real. “I intend to.” She opened the door. Night City waited outside. She stepped into it. The street was already busy. Traffic pushed through the intersection. Somebody nearby was arguing with a vending machine. Food smells drifted between hot concrete, exhaust and rain that had probably fallen somewhere else hours ago. Birgitta stood still for a moment. Second time. That felt different too. The first seven-day sculpt had begun with a trip. A purpose. A route. Panam's truck. This one began with nothing more complicated than wanting the time. Her agent chimed. Birgitta looked down. Panam. Of course. **Done?** Birgitta smiled. She typed: **Yep.** The reply came almost immediately. **Come over.** Birgitta looked at the message. There it was again. No _Do you want to?_ No _What are you doing?_ No _Where should we meet?_ Just a decision expressed in two words. The exact thing Reyes had spent enough time thinking about to walk into Victor's clinic and ask for another seven days. Birgitta typed: **Bossy.** Three dots. Then: **You coming or not?** Birgitta laughed aloud. A passing woman glanced toward her. Birgitta barely noticed. She typed one word. **Coming.** She put the agent away. Then headed toward Panam's apartment. Apparently the experiment had started before she'd even told Panam there was going to be one. --- ## CHAPTER 2 — TOO COMMANDING Panam opened the apartment door and looked Birgitta up and down. Not suspiciously. Appreciatively. Birgitta had enough time to smile before Panam reached out, caught her by the front of her jacket and pulled her across the threshold. “Inside.” Birgitta laughed as the door closed behind her. “Hello to you too.” Panam kissed her. That improved the greeting considerably. Birgitta slid her arms around Panam and kissed her back, warm and unhurried, letting herself enjoy the familiar solidity of her body, the faint smell of the city still clinging to her clothes, the hand that settled naturally at Birgitta’s waist as if it had every right to be there. When they separated, Birgitta stayed close. “Much better.” “You complained too early.” “I reserve the right to revise my opinion when presented with new evidence.” “You talk too much.” “You like finding ways to shut me up.” Panam’s mouth twitched. “I have options.” Birgitta’s smile sharpened. “Promising.” Panam snorted. “Come on.” She turned and started walking. Birgitta followed. Three steps. Four. Then the smile came back. Panam didn’t see it. That somehow made it funnier. She led the way into the kitchen and pointed toward one of the chairs. “Sit.” Birgitta sat. Panam opened a cabinet. Birgitta looked at the chair. Then at Panam. Then back at the chair. Her smile widened. Panam noticed this time. “What?” “Nothing.” “That’s bullshit.” “What makes you think that?” “That face.” Birgitta lifted a hand to her cheek. “My face?” “That specific face.” “I have specific faces?” “You have a whole fucking collection.” Birgitta laughed. Panam turned toward the coffee machine. “You want coffee?” “Yes.” Panam started making it. Birgitta watched her. Not because there was anything particularly fascinating about Panam making coffee. Although Panam somehow managed to attack even that task with the same practical determination she applied to engines, weapons and people who had annoyed her. No. Birgitta watched because she had finally started looking for it. That was different. During the courier run she hadn’t. Not at first. There had always been an obvious reason Panam was making the decisions. Her truck. Her contacts. Her jobs. Her routes. _We’re stopping here._ Perfectly reasonable. _Grab that._ Of course. _We’re eating there._ Fine. _Come on._ Sure. _Stay here._ Okay. It had taken days before Birgitta noticed the pattern continuing into things Panam had absolutely no professional reason to control. Which motel room. Which table. When they left in the morning. Where they sat at dinner. Which direction they walked afterward. Once, Panam had simply taken Birgitta by the hand outside a roadside diner and started walking. Birgitta had gone with her. No question. No destination. She had realized several minutes later that she had no idea where Panam was taking her. And instead of asking, she had smiled. That moment had followed her home. Panam placed a cup in front of her. “Careful.” Birgitta looked up. “Hot.” Birgitta’s smile returned. Panam frowned. “What now?” “Nothing.” “You’ve said ‘nothing’ twice now.” “Have I?” “Yes.” “You’re counting?” “I’m starting to.” Birgitta picked up the cup. Panam leaned against the counter with her own. “Okay.” “Okay what?” “What the hell is going on with you?” Birgitta sipped her coffee. “Nothing.” Panam pointed at her. “Three.” Birgitta nearly laughed into the cup. “You really are counting.” “Birgitta.” There was no real irritation in it. Not yet. But the tone made something pleasant move through her anyway. Birgitta lowered the cup. “Yes?” Panam stared. Birgitta stared back. Panam’s eyes narrowed. “You’re doing this on purpose.” “Doing what?” “That.” “Very specific.” “Whatever the fuck this is.” Birgitta smiled. Panam sighed and sat opposite her. “Fine.” She took a drink. Birgitta watched her. Panam put the cup down again. “Stop staring at me.” Birgitta stopped. Instantly. Panam blinked. Birgitta looked toward the window instead. Silence. One second. Two. Panam slowly said: “Okay.” Birgitta turned back. Panam was watching her differently now. “There.” Birgitta’s eyebrows rose. “There what?” “That.” “What?” “You did exactly what I told you.” Birgitta smiled. “Yes.” Panam waited for more. None came. “You could’ve ignored me.” “Yes.” “Could’ve told me to fuck off.” “Frequently tempting.” Panam’s mouth twitched. “But you didn’t.” “No.” “Why?” Birgitta picked up her coffee again. “That is an interesting question.” “Oh, fuck me.” “I thought you liked interesting questions.” “Not when you already know the answer.” Birgitta smiled over the rim of the cup. Panam leaned back. “You do know the answer.” “I think so.” “And?” Birgitta took another sip. Panam waited. That was another thing she had discovered about Panam. She could be impatient about almost anything. Traffic. Machines. Bad instructions. Slow people. People who asked stupid questions. People who asked intelligent questions at inconvenient times. But when something actually mattered, Panam could wait. The humor remained in Birgitta’s eyes, but the game softened around the edges. “You’re very commanding.” Panam stared at her. Then laughed once. “That’s your revelation?” “I’m serious.” “So am I. You spent a week in my truck and _that’s_ what you came away with?” “That and a deep appreciation for how many different ways one woman can swear at road conditions.” “They were shit roads.” “They were perfectly normal roads.” “They were shit.” “See?” “That has nothing to do with me being commanding.” Birgitta put the cup down. “It kind of does.” Panam crossed her arms. “All right. Explain.” Birgitta smiled. “You choose things.” “Everybody chooses things.” “You choose them for both of us.” Panam frowned. “When?” “All the time.” “Bullshit.” “Want examples?” Panam waved one hand. Birgitta began counting on her fingers. “Where we stopped on the courier run. Where we ate. Which motel. When we left. Where we sat. Which direction we walked. Which side of the truck I was loading from.” “That was work.” “Some of it.” “I knew the route.” “Some of it.” “I was driving.” “Some of it.” Panam sighed. Birgitta continued. “You’d take my hand and start walking.” Panam paused. “You never complained.” “I’m not complaining now.” “You sound like you are.” “I definitely am not.” Panam studied her. Birgitta leaned back slightly. “You tell me to come here.” “So?” “You tell me to sit.” “You sat.” “Exactly.” “You’re making this very fucking circular.” Birgitta laughed. “You tell me when we’re leaving.” “Because otherwise you’ll spend another twenty minutes talking to whoever happens to be standing nearest.” “Probably true.” “You’re impossible in markets.” “I’m delightful in markets.” “You flirt with vendors.” “They like me.” “They give you free shit.” “They _really_ like me.” Panam shook her head. Birgitta’s smile softened again. “But that’s the thing.” “What?” “I like it.” Panam stopped. The humor didn’t disappear. It simply stepped aside. Birgitta held her gaze. “I like when you do that.” Panam said nothing. “Not because I can’t decide for myself.” “I know you can.” “I know.” The answer came quickly. That mattered. Birgitta rested one elbow on the table. “You never do it because you think I’m helpless.” Panam’s expression tightened. “Of course I fucking don’t.” “I know.” “Good.” “And I think that’s why I like it.” Panam looked at her for a long moment. Birgitta let her. Finally Panam asked: “How long have you been thinking about this?” Birgitta considered lying. Only because the truthful answer was slightly embarrassing. “Since the courier run.” Panam’s eyebrows rose. “That long?” “I was deciding whether it was a thing.” “And?” Birgitta smiled. “It’s a thing.” Panam picked up her coffee. Took a drink. Put it down again. Birgitta could almost see the machinery turning behind her eyes. “So when I told you to stop staring at me—” “I stopped.” “Because you wanted to?” Birgitta thought about that. “Yes.” Panam’s gaze sharpened. Birgitta felt the little shift again. There. That. Exactly that. Panam noticed something. Not enough to name it yet. But enough to look at Birgitta and understand that the conversation had moved somewhere new. “You’re enjoying this right now.” Birgitta’s smile became very bright. “Yes.” Panam stared at her. Then leaned back and muttered: “Fuck.” Birgitta laughed. “What?” “I’m starting to understand that smile.” “Oh, no.” “Yeah.” “My greatest weapon.” “Apparently.” Panam stood and took her empty cup. Birgitta watched. Panam picked up Birgitta’s cup too. There was still a little coffee left in it. “Hey.” “You’ve had enough.” Birgitta blinked. Panam carried both cups to the sink. Birgitta stared at her back. Panam stopped. Very slowly, she turned around. Birgitta was smiling again. Panam pointed at her. “Don’t.” Birgitta bit her lower lip. Panam stared. Birgitta tried. She really did. Then the laugh escaped anyway. Panam shook her head. “Jesus Christ.” “You just decided I was done with my coffee.” “You were.” “I might have wanted the rest.” “Did you?” Birgitta glanced at the cup. Then back at Panam. “No.” “Then shut up.” Birgitta went quiet. Panam froze. Birgitta’s eyes sparkled. Panam closed hers. “Oh, fuck.” That did it. Birgitta broke into helpless laughter. Panam opened her eyes again. “You are absolutely doing that on purpose now.” “Maybe.” “Definitely.” “Maybe I’m testing a theory.” Panam came back toward the table. “What theory?” Birgitta looked up at her. Panam stopped beside her chair. Close. Not threatening. Not theatrical. Just Panam. Birgitta suddenly became very aware of the fact that she was seated and Panam was standing. Interesting. Very interesting. Birgitta’s smile faded into something quieter. “The one I just told you about.” Panam studied her face. “You like me telling you what to do.” Birgitta felt the words land harder when Panam said them. More direct. Less abstract. She could have softened it. Made another joke. Instead she nodded. “Yes.” Panam’s eyes stayed on hers. “Really.” “Yes.” Another silence. Then Panam reached down and held out her hand. “Come here.” Birgitta looked at it. Then at Panam. This was not new. Panam had done exactly this before. Many times. But now both of them knew they were looking at it. Birgitta put her hand in Panam’s. Panam pulled her to her feet. Birgitta stepped close. Panam’s other hand settled at her waist. “You’re strange.” Birgitta smiled. “You knew that.” “I’m realizing there are levels.” “Still interested?” Panam snorted. Then kissed her. Slowly. Warmly. When she pulled back, Birgitta stayed against her. Panam looked thoughtful. That was almost more interesting than anything else. Birgitta touched her cheek. “So.” “So?” “You know you’re too commanding now.” Panam frowned. “Too?” Birgitta smiled. “That may have been the wrong word.” “Yeah?” “Maybe.” Panam waited. Birgitta let her wait just long enough. Then: “I think I want more.” Panam went completely still. Birgitta smiled at the expression. Not smug this time. Not teasing. Just certain. Panam looked at her for another long moment. Then the corner of her mouth lifted. “Okay.” And that single word sent a small, delighted shiver through Birgitta. They would have to talk about what _more_ meant. How far. Where the edges were. What Birgitta actually wanted to give and what Panam was willing to take. But not yet. For now, Panam’s hand was still at her waist. Birgitta was still smiling. And both of them had finally noticed the thing that had been quietly happening between them for weeks. --- ## CHAPTER 3 — HOW FAR? Panam was quiet for long enough that Birgitta finally started smiling. “What?” Panam looked at her. “What?” “You’re thinking.” “I do that sometimes.” “I’ve heard rumors.” “Keep talking and I’ll reconsider this whole thing.” Birgitta’s smile widened. “This whole thing?” Panam immediately looked annoyed with herself. Birgitta caught it. “Oh.” “Don’t.” “Oh, that sounded promising.” “Birgitta.” She laughed and shifted closer on the couch. They had ended up there after the kitchen without discussing it. Panam had sat down. Birgitta had followed. Normally that would have meant nothing. Now both of them were noticing everything. Panam rested one arm along the back of the couch. “So.” “So.” “You want more.” “Yes.” “What does that actually mean?” Birgitta opened her mouth. Then stopped. That earned her a look. “You don’t know.” “I know parts of it.” “That’s reassuring.” “I didn’t exactly build a fucking presentation.” “Good.” “You sound disappointed.” “I’d leave.” Birgitta laughed. Then her expression softened. “I know what I don’t want.” Panam nodded. “Start there.” “I don’t want you acting.” “Acting how?” “Like somebody you think you’re supposed to become.” Panam frowned. Birgitta gestured vaguely. “No fake voice. No dramatic persona. No pretending you suddenly belong in some underground club wearing six kilos of black leather.” Panam stared at her. “You’ve thought about that image.” “Unfortunately.” “Was I hot?” “Extremely.” Panam snorted. “Still no.” “Good.” “Anything else?” “I don’t want this to be only sex.” Panam’s expression changed slightly. Not surprise. Recognition. “Okay.” “I mean, sex can absolutely be part of it.” “I assumed.” “I would be offended if you hadn’t.” “Birgitta.” “Right.” She tucked one leg underneath herself. “I mean the ordinary things.” “Like?” “Where we go.” Panam waited. “When we leave. Where we eat. Where we sit. Which way we walk.” “That sounds suspiciously like the courier run.” “Exactly.” Panam looked at her. Birgitta smiled. “That’s where I noticed it.” “You noticed me picking restaurants.” “I noticed you picking everything.” “I did not pick everything.” “You picked enough.” “I was running the job.” “You weren’t running the job when you took my hand outside that diner and walked three blocks without telling me where we were going.” Panam paused. Birgitta pointed at her. “That.” “What?” “That face.” “I don’t remember that.” “You absolutely remember that.” Panam tried not to smile. Failed. “Fine.” “I followed you.” “Yes.” “I had no idea where we were going.” “You could’ve asked.” “I know.” “But you didn’t.” “No.” “Why?” Birgitta looked at her. “Because I liked following you.” That silenced Panam again. Birgitta let it. Eventually Panam said: “Following.” “Yes.” “That word seems important.” “It might be.” Panam shifted slightly toward her. “What else?” Birgitta thought. “I like when you tell me to come here.” Panam’s eyebrows rose. “Sit.” Another small nod. “Wait.” Panam was watching her very carefully now. “Stay.” That one landed differently. Birgitta felt it herself. Panam did too. Neither said anything for a moment. Then Panam asked: “You like being told to stay?” Birgitta smiled, suddenly a little less certain. “I think so.” “That’s different from picking a restaurant.” “Yes.” “How different?” “I don’t know yet.” Panam nodded. No mockery. No immediate attempt to push it further. Just acceptance. That was part of why Birgitta trusted her with this at all. Panam looked ahead for a moment. Then: “What are you giving me?” Birgitta frowned. “What?” “You keep telling me what I can decide.” “Yes.” “That’s not what I asked.” Birgitta went quiet. Panam turned back toward her. “What are you actually giving me?” There was no easy joke available. Or rather, there were several. Birgitta chose not to use any of them. “Control.” “How much?” “Some.” “Bullshit answer.” Birgitta smiled faintly. “Yes.” Panam waited. Birgitta looked down at her hands. “I want you to have authority over me inside this.” The sentence felt more serious spoken aloud than it had inside her head. Panam’s expression sharpened. “Authority.” “Yes.” “You’re sure about that word?” “Yes.” “Because that’s not the same as me being bossy.” “I know.” Panam leaned back. Birgitta watched her absorb it. “I’m not taking away your ability to say no.” “No.” “I’m not deciding what you consent to.” “No.” “I’m not deciding who gets to touch you.” “No.” “Good.” The answer was immediate. Firm. Birgitta smiled. “You’re very protective of the edges.” “Damn right.” “I like that too.” Panam shook her head. “You like way too many things about this.” “That appears to be the problem.” “Not sure it’s a problem.” Birgitta’s smile became warmer. “No.” Probably not. Panam considered something. “If we’re out somewhere.” “Yes?” “And I tell you where to sit.” “I sit.” “If I tell you we’re leaving.” “We leave.” “If I tell you to wait.” “I wait.” “If somebody comes over and wants your attention?” Birgitta thought. “You decide whether I give it to them.” Panam’s eyes narrowed. “That’s a lot.” “Yes.” “And if I say no?” “Then no.” “Even if you wanted to talk to them.” Birgitta hesitated. Panam caught it. “There.” Birgitta sighed. “I’m thinking.” “Good.” “Maybe.” “Not good enough.” Birgitta looked at her. Panam’s expression was calm. “You don’t hand me something that matters because it sounds hot and figure out later whether you meant it.” Birgitta’s mouth curved. “That was extremely responsible.” “Shut up.” “I’m serious.” “So am I.” “I know.” That mattered too. Birgitta took a breath. “If it’s casual, yes.” “Define casual.” “Someone flirting. Someone trying to buy me a drink. Someone wanting company. Someone being social.” “And I decide.” “Yes.” “If it’s important?” “I tell you.” “And then?” Birgitta smiled slightly. “You decide what we do about it.” Panam stared at her. Birgitta waited. Panam slowly shook her head. “You really mean this.” “Yes.” Another silence. Then Panam asked: “How do you stop it?” Birgitta blinked. “The dynamic.” “Oh.” “You want me making decisions without asking permission every thirty seconds.” “Yes.” “You want to follow.” “Yes.” “So how do you tell me we’re done?” Birgitta thought about it. “Stop?” “Too common.” “Red?” “Sounds stupid.” Birgitta laughed. “You’re being picky about safewords.” “I’m allowed.” “You’ve known about this for twenty minutes.” “And?” “Fine. You choose.” Panam was silent for a while. Then: “Home.” Birgitta looked at her. Panam shrugged. “You say ‘home,’ it’s over.” “Immediately?” “Yes.” “No discussion?” “Not until afterward.” Birgitta’s expression softened. Panam continued. “If we’re out, I take you home. If we’re already home, I stop. No guessing what you meant.” Birgitta stared at her. “What?” “That’s good.” “Obviously.” “No, I mean it.” Panam’s expression became slightly uncomfortable. Birgitta smiled. “I like that.” “Home.” “Home.” Panam nodded once. Done. Birgitta moved closer until her shoulder rested against Panam’s. For several seconds, neither spoke. Then Panam said: “There’s still something bothering me.” “What?” “I don’t know what to call this.” Birgitta laughed. “Do we need to call it anything?” “No.” “Then don’t.” Panam frowned. “But I need to know what you think you’re asking for.” “I told you.” “You told me what you want me to do.” “Isn’t that the same thing?” “No.” Birgitta lifted her head. Panam looked genuinely frustrated now. Not angry. Trying to find the shape of something. “You don’t want me making every choice for you forever.” “No.” “You don’t want to stop being Birgitta.” “Definitely not.” “You don’t want to become some obedient little fucking doll.” Birgitta made a face. “Absolutely not.” “Good.” “You’d last ten minutes with that.” “Five.” Birgitta laughed. Panam continued. “But you want to follow me.” “Yes.” “You want me deciding where you go.” “Yes.” “You want me controlling who gets access to you sometimes.” “Yes.” “You want me telling you to sit. Wait. Stay.” Birgitta swallowed. “Yes.” Panam noticed. Of course she did. Then she said, almost absently: “You’re like a fucking pet.” Silence. Panam froze. Birgitta froze. They looked at each other. Panam was the first to speak. “That came out wrong.” “No.” “It did.” “No.” Panam frowned. Birgitta slowly sat upright. “Say it again.” “What?” “What you just said.” “I’m not—” “Panam.” Panam stared at her. Birgitta’s expression had changed completely. No laughter. No teasing. Interest. Bright, unmistakable interest. Panam saw it. “Oh.” “Yeah.” “That works for you.” Birgitta’s smile returned. Slowly. “A lot more than it probably should.” Panam stared. Then laughed. “Of course it fucking does.” “Think about it.” “I am trying not to.” “Pet doesn’t mean helpless.” “No.” “It doesn’t mean stupid.” “Definitely not.” “It doesn’t even mean quiet.” Panam looked at her. Birgitta grinned. “Obviously.” “That part is becoming painfully clear.” Birgitta moved closer again. “A pet can be completely capable.” “Yes.” “Independent.” “Yes.” “A pain in the ass.” “You especially.” “And still belong to someone.” Panam stopped. There. The word changed everything. Birgitta felt it as soon as she said it. Panam’s eyes stayed on hers. “Belong.” Birgitta nodded. “Inside this.” Panam was very still. “You sure?” “Yes.” “That’s a bigger word than follow.” “I know.” “And bigger than obey.” “I know.” Panam searched her face. Birgitta did not look away. Then Panam asked quietly: “To me?” There was no performance left in the question. Birgitta answered just as simply. “Yes.” Panam took a slow breath. Birgitta suddenly understood that she had been thinking mostly about what surrendering control would feel like. Panam was thinking about the opposite side. Responsibility. If Birgitta belonged to her inside this dynamic, then Panam believed that meant something. Not possession without obligation. Exactly the opposite. Birgitta smiled softly. “That scares you more than telling me what to do.” “Damn right.” “Why?” “Because if you’re my responsibility, I take care of you.” Birgitta’s hand found Panam’s wrist and stayed there. Not stopping her. Just holding the person who had apparently decided responsibility was the other face of ownership. Birgitta’s heart stumbled. Panam looked mildly irritated by her own sentence. Birgitta smiled wider. “Oh.” “Don’t.” “No, that was—” “Don’t make it weird.” “That was ridiculously sweet.” “Birgitta.” She kissed Panam before the argument could continue. Panam resisted for approximately no time at all. When they separated, Birgitta stayed close enough that their foreheads almost touched. “So.” Panam sighed. “So.” “If I’m the pet…” Panam’s eyes narrowed. Birgitta waited. The realization arrived. “No.” Birgitta started smiling. “Come on.” “No.” “Somebody has to be the other half.” “Absolutely fucking not.” Birgitta was already laughing. “Owner.” Panam closed her eyes. Birgitta lost the fight and laughed harder. “Owner Panam.” “No.” “Panam, my owner.” “Jesus fucking Christ.” Birgitta wrapped both arms around her. Panam was trying not to laugh now. Failing badly. “It fits.” “It sounds ridiculous.” “It fits.” “You’ve had this idea for twelve seconds.” “And it’s still better than anything else.” Panam opened her eyes. Birgitta’s laughter settled. The warmth remained. “So,” Birgitta said. “Try it.” Panam looked suspicious. “Try what?” Birgitta shifted back just enough to meet her eyes. “Tell your pet what to do.” That silenced Panam. Birgitta waited. The room felt different now. Not because either of them had changed. Because they had finally found words that fit what they were already circling. Panam looked at Birgitta for a long moment. Then she pointed to the space beside her. “Here.” Birgitta moved immediately. Not dramatically. No performance. She simply settled against Panam’s side where she had been told. Panam’s arm came around her. Birgitta smiled. Panam looked down. “Comfortable?” Birgitta opened her mouth. Panam caught herself. So did Birgitta. Their eyes met. Panam’s mouth curved. “No.” Birgitta’s eyebrows rose. “I decide.” The warmth that moved through Birgitta was immediate. “Yes.” Panam adjusted her position, pulled Birgitta more firmly against her, and settled her exactly where she wanted her. “There.” Birgitta relaxed against her. Panam’s hand rested on her hip. Neither spoke for a moment. Then Birgitta murmured: “I think we found it.” Panam looked down at her. “Pet.” Birgitta smiled. “Yes.” Panam’s thumb moved once against her side. “My pet?” That one went straight through her. Birgitta looked up. “Yes.” Panam held her gaze. Then smiled. Not a dominatrix. Not a master. Just Panam. Exactly as Birgitta had wanted. “Good.” And for the first time since this conversation began, Birgitta had absolutely nothing clever to say. --- ## CHAPTER 4 — THE LEASH Panam did not tell Birgitta where they were going. That lasted for almost twelve minutes. Birgitta was proud of herself. Mostly. She followed Panam out of the building, across two blocks, through a market she knew well enough to recognize at least three people, and onto a quieter street without asking once. Panam noticed. Of course she noticed. She glanced sideways. Birgitta smiled brightly. Panam kept walking. Another block. Birgitta lasted twenty seconds. “This is incredibly annoying.” Panam laughed. “You asked for it.” “I know.” “Then stop complaining.” “I didn't say I wanted to stop.” Panam looked at her. Birgitta's smile widened. “Just establishing that this is difficult.” “Poor thing.” Birgitta nearly tripped. Panam kept walking as if she had not just done that. Birgitta stared at the side of her face. “Did you just—” “No.” “You absolutely did.” “Keep up.” Birgitta laughed and did. The destination turned out to be a small shop tucked between a ripper clinic and a place selling expensive handmade boots. The window gave almost nothing away. Leather. Metalwork. Jewelry. Some decorative restraint pieces. Nothing garish. Nothing cheap. Panam stopped outside. Birgitta looked through the glass. Then at Panam. Panam looked back. Birgitta's eyebrows rose. “Oh.” “Yeah.” “You planned this.” “I had an idea.” “When?” “After you said pet.” Birgitta stared. “That was less than an hour ago.” “So?” “So that's terrifyingly efficient.” Panam opened the door. “Inside.” Birgitta smiled. And went inside. The shop smelled faintly of leather and machine oil. Not sex. Not perfume. Work. Craft. The person behind the counter looked up, took in Panam, then Birgitta, then the particular way Birgitta had entered half a step behind her. Their expression changed only slightly. Professional. Good. Panam walked to a display along the wall. Birgitta followed. Collars. Some decorative. Some clearly functional. Some subtle enough to pass as expensive jewelry. Some not subtle at all. Panam studied them. Birgitta studied Panam. Eventually Panam pointed. “That one.” Birgitta looked. Simple black leather. Not delicate. Not heavy either. Clean metal ring at the front. Nothing theatrical. Beside it hung a matching leash. Birgitta felt something shift inside her. Panam saw that too. “You like it.” Not a question. Birgitta nodded. “Yes.” Panam looked at the shopkeeper. “We'll try it.” The shopkeeper took the collar down. Then paused. “Her size?” Panam looked at Birgitta. For half a second Birgitta expected the question to come back to her. It didn't. Panam stepped closer. “Turn around.” Birgitta did. The shopkeeper handed Panam a measuring strip. Panam moved Birgitta's hair aside. Birgitta went very still. It was such a small thing. Panam's fingers against the back of her neck. The strip settling around her throat. Panam checking the fit. Nothing remotely dramatic. And yet Birgitta suddenly understood why this felt different from every conversation they had just had. Words were easy. This was physical. Visible. Something worn. Something Panam would put on her. The measuring strip disappeared. Panam gave the number. The shopkeeper selected the correct size and placed the collar on the counter. Panam picked it up. Birgitta looked at her. Panam looked back. Neither smiled. Not because anything was wrong. Because suddenly both of them understood that this deserved a moment. Panam held the collar. “You still want this?” There was no teasing in the question. Birgitta nodded. “Yes.” Panam waited. Birgitta understood. “Yes, owner.” Panam's expression changed. Tiny. But enough. “Turn around.” Birgitta did. She lifted her hair without being asked. Panam stepped close behind her. The leather touched Birgitta's throat. Cool at first. Then warm. Panam fastened it. Adjusted it. Checked the spacing with two fingers. Birgitta breathed in slowly. Panam's hand stayed there for one extra second. Then she smoothed the hair she had moved aside back into place with an absent care that had nothing to do with the fit. “Too tight?” “No.” “Too loose?” “No.” Panam moved around in front of her. Birgitta looked up. Panam inspected the collar. Then Birgitta. Something very warm entered her expression. “There.” Birgitta swallowed. The collar moved with her. “Good?” Panam asked. Birgitta smiled. “Very.” Panam reached for the leash. That was different. The collar had felt intimate. The leash felt like a declaration. Panam clipped it to the ring. The small metallic sound hit Birgitta harder than expected. Panam noticed. Her eyes lifted. Birgitta's smile had disappeared again. Not unhappiness. Attention. Full attention. Panam wrapped the end once around her hand. The shopkeeper had developed an impressive interest in reorganizing something on the other side of the counter. Birgitta looked down at the line between them. Then back up. Panam gave the leash the slightest pull. Not enough to move her. Just enough that Birgitta felt it. “Come here.” Birgitta stepped forward. Immediately. Panam's eyes sharpened. Birgitta felt the same small thrill she had felt on the couch. Only stronger. The leash did not force her. That was what mattered. She could have resisted. Could have stopped. Could have unclipped it herself. Instead Panam had made a tiny movement with one hand— and Birgitta had followed. Panam touched the collar with her free hand. “You okay?” “Yes.” “Home?” “No.” The answer came fast. Panam nodded. Good. She stepped back. Birgitta waited. Panam smiled faintly. “Stay.” Birgitta stayed. Panam walked two steps away. The leash extended between them. Birgitta could feel several people in the shop without looking directly at any of them. Could feel the possibility of being seen. Normally she would have filled the space. Smiled. Flirted. Made some comment. Not now. Panam had said stay. So Birgitta stayed. Panam looked at her. Something changed in Panam's face. Birgitta recognized it instantly. Not arousal. Not only that. Recognition. This was real. This worked. Panam returned to her. “Good.” One word. Birgitta felt ridiculously pleased. She laughed softly. “Oh, that's dangerous.” “What?” “That.” Panam's eyebrows rose. “You like praise too?” Birgitta pointed at her. “Don't get ambitious.” Panam laughed. “There she is.” The shopkeeper approached again. “Keeping them?” Panam looked at Birgitta. Birgitta looked back. Panam answered. “Yes.” Birgitta smiled. The shopkeeper named the price. Panam paid. Birgitta opened her mouth. Panam looked at her. Birgitta closed it. Panam's smile became deeply satisfied. “You were going to argue.” “I was going to offer.” “No.” “Panam—” “Mine.” Birgitta stopped. The word landed. Panam looked almost surprised she'd said it. Birgitta wasn't. Not anymore. She smiled slowly. “Okay.” Panam took the receipt. Then turned toward the door. “Come on.” Birgitta followed. The leash remained clipped. They stepped back onto the street. That was when the experiment changed again. Inside the shop, everything had been contained. Private enough. Expected. Outside, it was Night City. People. Traffic. Vendors. Noise. Strangers. Birgitta looked at the leash. Then at Panam. Panam looked back. “Still good?” Birgitta considered the question seriously. Then nodded. “Yes.” Panam started walking. Birgitta followed. At first Panam kept the leash loose. Very loose. Barely more than a line connecting them. Birgitta could choose her pace easily. Could walk beside her. Could look around. Could smile at someone passing. Could still be Birgitta. That mattered. She did not become quiet. She did not become smaller. Within half a block she was commenting on someone's spectacularly ugly jacket. Panam glanced over. “You own something worse.” “I absolutely do not.” “You wore it on the courier run.” “That was practical.” “It had reflective orange on it.” “Safety feature.” “It could've guided aircraft.” Birgitta laughed. The leash stayed in Panam's hand. That somehow made the conversation better. At the next intersection, Birgitta moved toward the curb. Panam stopped. The leash tightened. Birgitta stopped with it. Panam pointed. “Wait.” Birgitta looked at the traffic. There was no real danger. She could easily have crossed. That wasn't the point. She waited. Panam watched the flow. Then: “Now.” They crossed. Birgitta's smile returned. Panam noticed. “You're going to smile every fucking time I do that, aren't you?” “Probably.” “Great.” “You started this.” “You asked for it.” “Details.” Panam gave the leash another tiny pull. Birgitta moved half a step closer. “Careful,” she murmured. “You keep doing that in public and people are going to assume you know exactly what it does to me.” Panam looked at her. “I do.” Birgitta’s grin vanished for one startled second. Then came back worse. “Oh, fuck you.” “Keep walking.” They continued. A vendor called out to Birgitta. Something complimentary. Something clearly designed to make her stop. Normally she would have. Birgitta loved talking to strangers. Loved flirting for absolutely no reason. Loved making people smile. She turned her head. Panam did not stop. The leash stayed loose. No jerk. No command. Nothing prevented Birgitta from stopping. She looked at Panam. Panam kept walking. Birgitta smiled at the vendor. “Sorry.” Then followed Panam. After another few steps Panam looked over. “You wanted to stop.” “A little.” “You could have.” “I know.” “But you didn't.” “No.” Panam looked ahead again. Birgitta watched her. “You liked that.” Panam snorted. “Maybe.” “Oh.” “Don't.” “You did.” “Keep walking, pet.” Birgitta shut up. For approximately three seconds. Then: “That worked way too well.” Panam started laughing. Birgitta joined her. They walked like that through Night City. Panam holding the leash. Birgitta following because she wanted to. Talking too much. Laughing. Flirting occasionally. Still completely herself. But every time Panam changed direction, Birgitta changed with her. Every time Panam stopped, Birgitta stopped. Every time Panam said wait, Birgitta waited. By the time they reached another busy corner, neither of them was treating the leash like an experiment anymore. Panam stopped. Birgitta stopped beside her. Panam looked down at the collar. Then at Birgitta. “My pet.” Birgitta smiled. “My owner.” Traffic moved around them. Night City barely cared. And that, somehow, made it feel even more real. --- ## CHAPTER 5 — PANAM CHOOSES The first thing Birgitta discovered was that giving Panam control over the afternoon did not make Panam particularly interested in explaining the afternoon. They had walked four blocks from the shop before Birgitta finally asked: “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” “No.” Birgitta smiled. “Just checking.” Panam looked sideways at her. “You already checked.” “I like consistency.” “You like talking.” “That too.” Panam turned right. Birgitta turned with her. The leash remained loose between them. Panam had stopped holding it as though it were something she needed to think about. That was new. At the shop, every movement had been deliberate. How much tension. Where Birgitta stood. Whether the leash was too short. Whether she was comfortable. Now it simply rested in Panam’s hand. Natural. Birgitta liked that much more than she expected. They reached a crowded pedestrian strip. Music from two different storefronts fought unsuccessfully for dominance. Street food smoke drifted over the sidewalk. People moved around them in clusters, couples and solitary trajectories, almost nobody paying more than a passing glance to the woman wearing a collar or the woman holding her leash. Night City had seen stranger things before breakfast. Birgitta looked around happily. “This is already better than wherever I thought you were taking me.” “You don’t know where I’m taking you.” “Exactly.” “Then how is this better?” “My imaginary version had worse lighting.” Panam snorted. A woman passing them glanced at Birgitta. Then looked again. Birgitta smiled at her. The woman smiled back. Panam noticed. “You know her?” “No.” “Of course not.” “She has excellent taste.” “In what?” “Apparently me.” Panam gave the leash a tiny sideways pull. Birgitta moved closer without thinking. Panam looked at her. Birgitta looked down at the leash. Then back up. “Oh.” Panam’s mouth curved. “You felt that.” “Yes.” “Good.” Birgitta stepped even closer until their shoulders nearly touched. “Possessive.” “Efficient.” “Mm-hm.” “Don’t start.” “I haven’t started anything.” “You were about to.” Birgitta smiled sweetly. “Keep pulling me against you like that and I might.” Panam’s eyes narrowed. “That a threat?” “Promise.” “Pet.” “Owner.” Neither of them looked away first. Panam kept walking. Birgitta followed. A little farther along, Panam stopped in front of a food stand. Birgitta looked at the menu. Then immediately looked away. Panam caught it. “What?” “Nothing.” “You hate something on there.” “No.” “That was a very fast no.” “I am practicing.” “Practicing what?” “Not choosing.” Panam looked at the menu. Then at Birgitta. “You’re hungry?” “Yes.” “Anything you absolutely won’t eat?” Birgitta considered. “No.” “Good.” Panam ordered for both of them. Birgitta did not interfere. That took more effort than she would ever admit. Especially when Panam picked something Birgitta would not have picked herself. Not something bad. Just not her first choice. That was almost the point. Panam paid. Birgitta accepted the food when it came. They moved to one of several standing tables nearby. Panam chose one. Birgitta went where she was led. “You’re staring at it.” Birgitta looked up. “I am evaluating your judgment.” “My judgment is fine.” “Bold claim.” “Eat.” Birgitta took a bite. Panam watched her. Birgitta chewed slowly. Thoughtfully. Made Panam wait. Then took another bite. “Well?” Birgitta nodded. “Good.” Panam looked far too satisfied. Birgitta pointed at her with the food. “Do not get smug.” “You questioned my judgment.” “I reserve that right.” “You’re eating it.” “I also reserve the right to admit when I’m wrong.” Panam laughed. “That must hurt.” “Deeply.” They ate. Birgitta talked. Of course she did. About the market. About the boots in the window three stores back. About somebody wearing a jacket so aggressively expensive that Birgitta was convinced the jacket had its own accountant. Panam responded when she felt like it and ignored her when she didn’t. Birgitta found that strangely pleasant too. There was no need to perform for Panam. No need to keep her entertained. She could simply exist at full Birgitta volume. Panam would tell her to shut up if necessary. Possibly literally. That thought made her smile again. Panam caught it. “What now?” “Nothing.” Panam pointed a warning finger. Birgitta laughed. “Fine. I was thinking you’d tell me if I became annoying.” “You became annoying twenty minutes ago.” “And yet you kept me.” Panam froze for half a second. Birgitta’s smile became very slow. “Oh.” “Eat.” “You kept me.” “Birgitta.” “Owner.” Panam looked around as if hoping Night City might provide an emergency distraction. It did not. Birgitta looked delighted. “You walked into that one.” “I’m going to leave you tied to a parking meter.” “You wouldn’t.” Panam stared. Birgitta reconsidered. “You might.” “Eat.” Birgitta ate. Very obediently. For approximately thirty seconds. When they finished, Birgitta automatically reached for the trash. Panam caught the leash lightly before she could move. “Leave it.” Birgitta stopped. “There’s a bin right there.” “I know.” “I can—” “I know.” Birgitta looked at her. Panam gathered both containers herself, threw them away, then came back. Birgitta had stayed exactly where she was. Panam noticed. “You didn’t have to stand like a statue.” “You said leave it.” “I meant the trash.” “I chose a broad interpretation.” “You’re impossible.” “Your problem now.” Panam gave her a long look. Birgitta smiled. Panam picked up the leash a little higher. “My problem?” Birgitta realized she had done it again. “Yes.” Panam stepped closer. “Careful, pet.” Birgitta’s smile changed. There was something different about hearing the word in public. Nothing dramatic. No audience gathered. No one cared. Which somehow made it feel more intimate. More real. “Yes, owner.” Panam’s eyes stayed on hers for another second. Then she turned. “Come on.” Birgitta followed. No destination requested. This time she did not even think about asking. That was new too. They crossed into a more expensive commercial section. Birgitta noticed immediately. “Oh, dangerous.” “What?” “Shops.” “You’ve seen shops before.” “I enjoy shops.” “I know.” “You say that like it’s a medical condition.” “It might be.” Panam led her past the first two. Birgitta glanced through both windows. Kept walking. Third shop. Clothes. Birgitta slowed slightly. Panam did not. The leash tightened. Birgitta immediately matched her pace again. Panam glanced over. Birgitta looked innocent. “You wanted to go in.” “Maybe.” “You didn’t ask.” “No.” Panam stopped. Birgitta stopped beside her. “You can ask.” “I know.” “But you didn’t.” Birgitta smiled. “I wanted to know if you’d stop.” Panam stared. “You were testing me.” “A little.” Panam looked back toward the shop. Then at Birgitta. “No.” Birgitta blinked. “No?” “We’re not going in.” Birgitta looked through the window again. There was a dress inside that would have been exceptionally entertaining. She looked back at Panam. “Okay.” Panam waited. Birgitta said nothing else. Panam’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You really wanted to.” “Yes.” “And you’re okay with no.” “Yes.” “Why?” Birgitta laughed softly. “Because if I argue every decision until you pick the thing I wanted anyway, then you’re not choosing.” Panam was quiet for a moment. Then nodded. “Good.” One word. Again. That tiny warmth of praise. Birgitta sighed. Panam frowned. “What?” “You need to stop doing that.” “Doing what?” “That ‘good’ thing.” Panam’s expression changed. “Oh.” “Yes, oh.” “You really like that.” “Apparently.” Panam smiled. “Good.” Birgitta closed her eyes. “You bitch.” Panam laughed and started walking again. Birgitta followed, muttering. Five stores later Panam stopped. Without warning. Birgitta nearly walked into her. “Hey.” Panam pointed. Birgitta looked. Shoes. Birgitta turned slowly toward her. Panam looked far too calm. “No.” Panam’s eyebrows rose. “That’s your stop word?” “No.” “Then?” Birgitta looked into the window. Boots. Several pairs. One particularly beautiful pair with the kind of heel that made practical movement technically possible and morally irresponsible. Birgitta looked at Panam. “You skipped the dress.” “Yes.” “And brought me here.” “Yes.” “You planned this.” “Yes.” Birgitta stared. Panam opened the door. “Inside.” Birgitta went inside so quickly Panam laughed. “You’re easy.” “Shut up.” “Pet.” “Owner.” The shop assistant looked up. Birgitta smiled brilliantly. “Hi.” “Hello.” Birgitta was already moving toward the display when the leash became gently taut. She stopped. Looked back. Panam pointed to a bench. “Sit.” Birgitta stared at the boots. Then at the bench. Then at Panam. Panam waited. Birgitta sat. The assistant was now trying very hard not to look interested. Panam walked to the display herself. Birgitta folded her hands in her lap. “This is cruel.” “You’ll survive.” “I am extremely qualified to choose my own shoes.” “I know.” “That sentence is objectively true.” “I know.” “Some would call me an expert.” “Some would call you obsessed.” “Those people lack culture.” Panam ignored her. She studied several pairs. Picked one up. Rejected it. Picked another. Birgitta watched. Something unexpected happened. The joke faded a little. Because Panam was not randomly exercising power. She was paying attention. Looking at heel height. Construction. Fit. The shape. What would work with Birgitta’s clothes. What Birgitta could actually walk in. What Birgitta would like. Panam knew her. That was the foundation beneath every decision. Not control for its own sake. Attention. Panam finally chose a pair. Not the pair Birgitta had been staring at. A different one. Still high. Still elegant. Slightly sharper. More Birgitta, somehow, than Birgitta’s own first choice. Panam handed them to the assistant. “Her size.” Birgitta smiled. The assistant brought the right pair. Panam took them. Then crouched in front of Birgitta. Birgitta blinked. “Oh.” Panam looked up. “What?” “Nothing.” “Try them.” Birgitta took off her current shoes. Panam handed her the first boot. Birgitta slipped it on. Then the second. Panam stood. “Walk.” Birgitta walked. Not a runway performance. Well. Not entirely. Birgitta was still Birgitta. She made one slow turn halfway down the shop. The assistant smiled. Panam crossed her arms. Birgitta walked back. “Well?” Panam looked at the boots. Then at Birgitta. “Those.” Birgitta looked down. “They’re not the ones I would’ve picked.” “I know.” Birgitta looked back up. Panam waited. Birgitta smiled. “I like them better.” Panam’s gaze dropped once to the boots, then returned to Birgitta with the quiet satisfaction of somebody who had not merely chosen for her, but chosen well. Panam tried very hard not to look smug. Failed completely. “You’re unbearable.” “You’re welcome.” Panam bought them. Birgitta did not argue about that either. They left with Birgitta carrying the box. Panam still held the leash. Halfway down the block, Birgitta said: “I think I understand something.” Panam glanced over. “Dangerous.” “Very.” “What?” Birgitta thought about how to phrase it. “I thought giving you decisions would feel like not having them.” Panam frowned. “And?” “It doesn’t.” “What does it feel like?” Birgitta looked down at the leash between them. Then at the shoe box in her hands. “Like I don’t have to carry all of them.” Panam stopped walking. Birgitta stopped with her. The street moved around them. Panam studied her. Birgitta smiled softly. “That’s different.” “Yeah.” “You sure it’s good?” Birgitta nodded. “Yes.” Panam accepted that. No joke. No teasing. Just a small nod. Then she looked ahead. “We’re going left.” Birgitta laughed. “See?” “What?” “That.” Panam started walking. Birgitta followed. No question. No hesitation. Five steps later, somebody standing beside a vendor stall smiled at Birgitta. Birgitta smiled back automatically. “Hey.” “Hi.” The stranger’s attention flicked to the collar. Then the leash. Then Panam. Interesting rather than judgmental. “Nice collar.” Birgitta touched it. “Thank you.” “Looks good on you.” “I know.” Panam snorted. The stranger smiled. “Your girlfriend?” Birgitta looked at Panam. Panam looked at Birgitta. There was a moment in which several technically accurate answers existed. Birgitta chose the funniest. “My owner.” The stranger blinked. Panam closed her eyes. Birgitta smiled brightly. The stranger recovered impressively quickly. “Oh.” “Yep.” Panam opened her eyes again. The stranger looked at her. “You picked the collar?” Panam sighed. “Yes.” “Good taste.” Birgitta beamed. “See?” “Keep moving.” Birgitta immediately turned and followed. “Nice meeting you!” The stranger laughed. “Likewise!” They made it half a block before Panam spoke. “My owner.” Birgitta looked at her. “What?” “You really just said that.” “It was accurate.” “To a complete stranger.” “They asked.” Panam shook her head. Birgitta leaned a little closer as they walked. “You embarrassed?” “No.” That answer was too quick. Birgitta smiled. Panam saw it. “Don’t.” “You liked it.” “Birgitta.” “You did.” Panam stopped. Birgitta stopped. Panam turned toward her. Then shortened the leash by wrapping it once around her hand. Birgitta stepped closer automatically. Panam looked directly into her eyes. “Keep teasing your owner.” Birgitta smiled. “Yes?” “And see where that gets you.” There was a beat. Birgitta’s grin became absolutely radiant. “Is that a threat?” Panam stared at her. Then started walking. “Come on.” Birgitta followed. Still smiling. Still talking. Still flirting with half the city whenever Panam allowed enough time for it. Still entirely Birgitta. The leash had not taken anything away. Panam choosing had not made her smaller. If anything, Birgitta felt lighter. She could still disagree. Still laugh. Still tease. Still say no. Still say home. But for the next decision— and the one after that— she did not have to choose. Panam did. And Birgitta was beginning to understand just how much she liked letting her. --- ## CHAPTER 6 — ORDINARY THINGS By late afternoon, the leash had become boring. Birgitta noticed this while standing beside Panam in a grocery store. Not boring in a bad way. Not unwanted. Quite the opposite. It simply wasn't the first thing she noticed anymore. Panam held it in one hand while inspecting two nearly identical packages of something Birgitta had no intention of eating unless specifically instructed. Birgitta leaned closer. “What is that?” “Food.” “That is not an answer.” “It'll become food.” “Still not an answer.” Panam put one package back. Birgitta looked at the remaining one. “I don't trust it.” “You don't have to.” “That sounds ominous.” “You're eating it.” Birgitta smiled. “There it is.” Panam dropped the package into the basket. “There what is?” “The reason I'm here.” “You're here because you followed me.” “Also true.” Panam continued down the aisle. Birgitta went with her. No thought required. That was the part she was beginning to notice. Earlier, every instruction had arrived with a tiny spark attached to it. _Sit._ _Wait._ _Come here._ Every time Panam made a decision, Birgitta's mind had lit up around it. She had examined the feeling. Tested it. Enjoyed it. Now Panam simply turned into another aisle and Birgitta turned with her. No thrill. No deliberate obedience. Just— Panam went that way. So Birgitta did too. She smiled. Panam noticed immediately. “What?” “Nothing.” Panam stopped walking. Birgitta sighed. “I really need a new answer.” “Yes.” “I was thinking.” “That usually causes trouble.” Birgitta looked around. A man nearby was comparing canned drinks with an intensity normally reserved for bomb disposal. Nobody else was paying attention to them. Birgitta looked back at Panam. “I forgot about the leash.” Panam glanced down. The line hung loose between them. “So?” Birgitta shrugged. “I don't know.” Panam studied her. “Bad?” “No.” “Good?” Birgitta thought about it. “Very.” Panam nodded. Then started walking again. Birgitta followed. That was it. No analysis. No discussion. No attempt to turn the moment into something profound. Birgitta liked that too. At the next section Panam picked up a bottle. Birgitta immediately said: “No.” Panam looked at her. “That wine is terrible.” “You've had it?” “Yes.” “When?” “Does it matter?” “If I'm supposed to trust your expert opinion.” “You trusted my opinion about the jacket.” “I ignored your opinion about the jacket.” “Exactly, and you were right.” Panam looked at the bottle. Put it back. Birgitta blinked. “Oh.” “What?” “You listened.” “Don't make this weird.” “I thought owner decides.” Panam looked at her. “Owner isn't stupid.” Birgitta laughed. Panam selected a different bottle. “You know more about wine.” “Marginally.” “So you get input.” “That almost sounded democratic.” “Don't get used to it.” Birgitta grinned. “I love our system.” “We've had a system for four fucking hours.” “Still love it.” Panam moved on. They bought food. Drinks. Coffee. A few things Birgitta recognized. Several she didn't. Panam selected everything. Birgitta gave opinions whenever she felt strongly enough to have one. Panam ignored approximately half of them. This turned out to be far more entertaining than Birgitta expected. At one point she picked up a box of pastries. Panam looked at it. “No.” Birgitta stared. “Excuse me?” “We already have dessert.” “This isn't dessert.” “It is absolutely dessert.” “This is an emergency provision.” “For what emergency?” Birgitta clutched the box to her chest. “Unexpected pastry shortage.” Panam held out her hand. Birgitta stared at it. Panam waited. Birgitta slowly handed over the box. Panam returned it to the shelf. “That was cruel.” “You'll live.” “You can't know that.” “I've seen you survive worse.” “Barely.” Panam gave the leash a tiny pull. “Come on.” Birgitta followed, mourning dramatically. Two aisles later Panam reached into the basket and handed her a small wrapped chocolate bar. Birgitta looked at it. Then at Panam. Panam kept walking. Birgitta hurried after her. “You bought this.” “Yes.” “When?” “When you were arguing with the pastry box.” Birgitta stared at the chocolate. “You chose it for me.” Panam glanced sideways. “Yes.” Birgitta looked down again. Panam’s fingers brushed hers once as the chocolate changed hands, casual enough that neither of them needed to acknowledge it. It was one she liked. Not her absolute favorite. But one Panam had seen her buy during the courier run. Once. Maybe twice. Birgitta slowed. The leash tightened gently. Panam stopped and turned. “What?” Birgitta held up the chocolate. “You remembered.” Panam frowned as though this were a ridiculous thing to be impressed by. “Of course I remembered.” Birgitta's smile became softer. Panam pointed at her. “Don't.” “Don't what?” “Whatever that face means.” “You're sweet.” “I am not.” “You bought your pet chocolate.” “I stopped you buying a whole fucking box of pastries.” “Then compensated me emotionally.” Panam closed her eyes. Birgitta laughed. “Come on,” Panam muttered. Birgitta followed happily. At the checkout, the clerk scanned the collar. Not literally. His eyes did. Collar. Leash. Panam. Birgitta. Then he smiled politely. “Separate?” Panam answered before Birgitta could. “One.” Birgitta looked at her. Panam was already paying. Something about that tiny exchange pleased her more than it had any reasonable right to. They left with two bags. Birgitta reached for both. Panam gave her one. “I can carry both.” “I know.” “So—” “One.” Birgitta took one. Panam carried the other. They walked. The leash remained in Panam's hand. The grocery bag swung lightly from Birgitta's. There was no erotic charge in carrying groceries. No fantasy. No scene. No audience. Just late afternoon traffic and somebody arguing loudly over a parking space half a block away. Birgitta found herself smiling again. This time Panam didn't ask why. They stopped for coffee. Panam chose the place. She chose the table. She ordered before Birgitta had completely finished reading the menu. Birgitta didn't object. When the drinks came, hers was exactly right. She stared at it. Panam noticed. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” “You know my coffee.” “We've had coffee before.” “You know my coffee.” “Yes.” Birgitta took a drink. “Owner skills.” “Drink your coffee.” “Yes, owner.” The woman at the next table glanced over. Birgitta smiled at her. The woman smiled back. Panam groaned. “You enjoy that way too much.” “What?” “Saying it where people can hear.” Birgitta considered. “Yes.” “Why?” “Because it's true.” Panam's expression shifted. Birgitta watched it happen. The annoyance disappeared first. Then the amusement softened. What remained was something quiet. Possessive, perhaps. But not in the ugly sense of the word. Something accepted. Chosen. Panam reached across the small table and hooked one finger lightly through the ring at the front of Birgitta's collar. Birgitta went still. Panam did nothing else. She simply held it for a moment. “Mine?” Birgitta's heartbeat changed. “Yes.” Panam released the ring. Birgitta stared. Panam picked up her coffee. “What?” Birgitta shook her head. “That was unfair.” “What was?” “You know exactly what.” “I really don't.” “Liar.” Panam smiled into her cup. Birgitta had to look away. That was becoming another discovery. Panam was learning. Fast. Not tricks. Not rehearsed gestures. Birgitta. Which things made her laugh. Which commands made something inside her tighten pleasantly. Which kind of praise hit hardest. Which moments needed joking and which ones didn't. And Birgitta was learning Panam too. The difference between genuine uncertainty and carefulness. The tiny hesitation before Panam accepted more authority. The way responsibility mattered to her more than power did. That was perhaps the biggest difference between what Birgitta had imagined and what was actually happening. Panam wasn't intoxicated by control. She was attentive to it. She enjoyed it. Birgitta was increasingly certain about that. But Panam treated every piece of control Birgitta gave her like something that came attached to an obligation. _Mine?_ also meant: _My responsibility?_ Birgitta finished her coffee. Panam stood. Birgitta stood automatically. Neither noticed until they were already walking. --- Back at the apartment, Panam shut the door behind them. Birgitta waited. Panam looked at her. “What?” Birgitta glanced down. The leash. Panam followed her gaze. “Oh.” She unclipped it. The tiny metallic sound had felt enormous earlier. Now it simply meant they were home. Panam hung the leash over the back of a chair. Birgitta touched the collar. “You taking this off too?” Panam looked at her. “No.” Birgitta smiled. “Good.” Panam took the grocery bag from her. “Shoes.” Birgitta looked down at the new boots she had changed into before leaving the shop. “What about them?” “Off.” Birgitta obeyed. She left them neatly by the door. Panam was already unpacking groceries. Birgitta walked into the kitchen. “Help?” “No.” Birgitta stopped. Panam pointed toward the couch. “Go sit.” Birgitta stared. “You're cooking.” “Yes.” “And I have to sit.” “Yes.” “I can cook.” “I know.” “I can help.” “I know.” “Then why—” Panam looked at her. Birgitta stopped. There was no sternness in the expression. No performance. Just a decision. “Sit.” Birgitta smiled. “Yes, owner.” She went to the couch. Panam continued unpacking. Birgitta sat. For perhaps thirty seconds. Then she called: “What are you making?” “Food.” “That answer sucked the first time.” “Still food.” “Can I guess?” “No.” “Can I watch?” “You are watching.” “Closer.” “No.” Birgitta flopped dramatically against the couch. “This dynamic is oppressive.” Panam laughed from the kitchen. “You can say home anytime.” Birgitta smiled. There it was. Casual. Easy. The exit always visible. “I don't want home.” A pause. Then Panam said: “Good.” Birgitta closed her eyes. “Stop doing that.” “Doing what?” “You know.” “No idea.” “Liar.” Panam laughed. Birgitta stayed where she was. That surprised her. Normally she would have wandered into the kitchen. Stolen ingredients. Offered opinions. Interfered. Made herself useful whether anyone had asked or not. Instead she sat. Because Panam had told her to. And after a while, she stopped thinking of it as obedience. She simply watched Panam cook. Something about that felt absurdly luxurious. Not having to help. Not having to manage. Not having to participate in every decision. She could sit. Panam had it. The realization settled quietly. Birgitta looked around the apartment. The collar remained around her throat. The leash hung over a chair. Panam moved around the kitchen. The entire scene would have looked almost disappointingly ordinary to anyone expecting something dramatic from the words _owner_ and _pet_. Birgitta loved it. Panam brought her a glass. “Drink.” Birgitta took it. Water. She laughed. “What?” “You're hydrating your pet.” “I'm dating an idiot who forgets to drink water.” “Owner responsibilities.” Panam stared at her. Then, very deliberately: “Yes.” Birgitta stopped smiling. Not because the answer was wrong. Because Panam had accepted it. No joke. No deflection. “Yes.” Panam turned back toward the kitchen. Birgitta looked at the water. Then drank. Dinner was good. Panam had been right about the mysterious package. Birgitta admitted this with all the dignity available to her. Which was not much. Afterward she stood and started collecting plates. Panam said: “Leave them.” Birgitta stopped. She looked at the plates. Then at Panam. Panam was no longer looking at her. She was taking the grocery list from the counter and checking something. Birgitta slowly sat back down. There was no spark this time. No deliberate awareness. No _oh, she gave me an order._ She simply sat. Several seconds later Panam looked over. Her eyes went to Birgitta. Then the plates. Then back. Something passed between them. Birgitta saw it. “You noticed.” Panam nodded. “So did I.” Neither laughed. Panam put the list down. “Come here.” Birgitta stood and crossed the room. Panam opened one arm. Birgitta went into it. No leash. No instruction beyond the first. Panam held her against her side. Birgitta rested her head on Panam's shoulder. “This is getting weirdly easy,” Birgitta murmured. Panam's hand moved slowly along her back. “Problem?” “No.” “You sure?” Birgitta nodded against her. “Yes.” Panam accepted the answer. For a while they simply stood there. Then Birgitta said: “You realize this was supposed to be an experiment.” “It still is.” “It doesn't feel like one.” Panam was quiet. Birgitta lifted her head. Panam looked thoughtful. “No,” she said eventually. “It doesn't.” Birgitta smiled. Panam touched the collar. Not pulling. Just feeling it beneath her fingers. “We keep paying attention.” “Yes.” “If something changes—” “We talk.” “If you don't want something—” “I say it.” “If you want out—” “Home.” Panam nodded. Birgitta touched Panam's cheek. “And otherwise?” Panam looked at her. The answer came without hesitation. “I decide.” Birgitta's smile appeared. “Yes.” Panam kissed her forehead. Then pointed toward the couch. “Sit.” Birgitta laughed. But she sat. Panam brought the wine she had chosen. Two glasses. She poured both. Handed one to Birgitta. Then sat beside her and pulled Birgitta's legs across her lap without asking. Birgitta looked down. Then at Panam. Panam was already taking a drink. Birgitta settled back. No discussion. No request. No thrill sharp enough to name. Just Panam deciding where her pet belonged. And Birgitta discovering she was perfectly happy there. Later, when Panam reached for the remote, Birgitta asked: “What are we watching?” Panam looked at her. Birgitta immediately sighed. “Oh, come on.” Panam smiled. “My choice.” “This is where I finally regret everything.” “You can say home.” Birgitta lifted her wine. “Never.” Panam picked something. It was terrible. Birgitta complained for twenty minutes. Panam refused to change it. Birgitta watched the entire thing anyway. And somewhere between insulting the plot and stealing half of Panam's blanket, she realized that neither of them had thought about the experiment for nearly an hour. Panam was choosing. Birgitta was following. They were arguing. Laughing. Drinking wine. Sharing a couch. Nothing about it felt like a performance anymore. It was just them. Only now Panam occasionally said _stay_— and Birgitta did. --- ## CHAPTER 7 — FAMILIAR FACES The next morning, Panam decided they were going out. Birgitta learned this while still halfway through coffee. “We’re leaving in twenty.” Birgitta looked over the rim of the cup. “Are we?” “Yes.” “Where?” Panam looked at her. Birgitta sighed. “Right. Sorry. Temporary lapse in training.” Panam smiled. “Twenty.” Birgitta saluted with the coffee. “Yes, owner.” Panam walked away. Birgitta watched her go. Then smiled into the cup. This was becoming alarmingly easy. Twenty-three minutes later, Panam stood by the apartment door with the leash in one hand. Birgitta looked at it. Then at Panam. “You said twenty.” “You took twenty-three.” “I needed three minutes for perfection.” “You needed three minutes because you changed your jacket twice.” “That was part of perfection.” Panam looked her up and down once. Slow enough to be insulting. Or flattering. Birgitta decided on flattering. “Worth it?” she asked. Panam held up the leash. “Come here.” Birgitta’s smile turned indecently pleased. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Birgitta walked over. No hesitation. Panam clipped it to the collar. The small metallic click was familiar now. Birgitta smiled. “Ready?” Panam asked. Birgitta raised an eyebrow. “That sounded suspiciously like a question.” Panam stared at her. Birgitta laughed. “Sorry.” Panam opened the door. “Out.” Birgitta went. --- Panam’s plan turned out to involve coffee, a parts supplier, and absolutely no explanation for why Birgitta needed to accompany her to the parts supplier. Birgitta did not ask. Mostly because she wanted to see how long Panam would go before volunteering the information. The answer was apparently forever. They were halfway through Watson when Birgitta finally said: “You know, if this is some elaborate attempt to make me appreciate vehicle maintenance, it isn’t working.” “I need a part.” “I gathered that from the parts supplier.” “You asked why you’re here.” “I very specifically did not.” Panam looked sideways at her. Birgitta smiled brightly. “Progress.” Panam snorted. They kept walking. The leash hung loose. Birgitta had discovered that Panam rarely needed tension on it now. A tiny change in direction. A small movement of her wrist. Sometimes nothing more than Panam turning her body. Birgitta followed. Not perfectly. She was still Birgitta. A display window could distract her. A pretty woman could distract her. An interesting conversation definitely could. But Panam had become very good at reclaiming her attention. Occasionally with one word. Sometimes with the leash. Once, on the way to coffee, by simply saying: “Pet.” Birgitta had turned so quickly that Panam laughed for almost an entire block. That had been deeply unfair. They crossed another street. Panam slowed. Birgitta slowed with her. Then Panam stopped. Birgitta stopped. “What?” Panam was looking across the pedestrian strip. Birgitta followed her gaze. And immediately understood. Oh. Oh, this was going to be interesting. Ace was standing beside a food stall with Mai. Brenda and Iris were nearby, apparently arguing over something inside a shopping bag. And Shammy— Shammy saw them first. Or, more accurately: Sera saw them first. Because Reyes knew exactly what that tiny fraction of stillness meant. Everyone else saw Birgitta. Sera saw Reyes wearing Birgitta’s face, Birgitta’s hair, Birgitta’s voice— and a collar. Attached to a leash. Held by Panam. Birgitta watched Sera’s entire internal universe catch fire behind an otherwise perfectly normal expression. It was magnificent. Ace noticed where Shammy was looking. Then Ace turned. Her face lit immediately. “Oh, hey!” Birgitta smiled. There it was. Recognition. Not Reyes. Birgitta. Exactly as it should be. Panam muttered: “Of course.” Birgitta glanced up. “You know them.” Panam gave her a flat look. Birgitta smiled innocently. Technically, that had been a Birgitta-valid question. Technically. Panam started walking toward the group. Birgitta followed. The leash remained obvious between them. Very obvious. Ace noticed it approximately five steps before they reached her. Her eyes went down. Collar. Leash. Panam’s hand. Back to Birgitta. Then to Panam. Her eyebrows climbed. Mai followed the same sequence more slowly. Brenda stopped paying attention to the bag. Iris looked. Looked again. Shammy looked at absolutely anything except Birgitta. Which was the single funniest thing Birgitta had seen all morning. “Hi,” Birgitta said brightly. Ace smiled. “Hi.” There was a tiny pause. The kind caused by five people simultaneously agreeing not to immediately ask about the leash. Iris’s gaze moved once from Birgitta’s collar to Panam’s hand and back. Brenda caught it. That made Brenda’s mouth twitch. Panam looked at them. “What?” Ace’s eyes widened. “I didn’t say anything.” “You were going to.” “No.” Mai looked at Ace. “You were.” “Traitor.” Brenda leaned slightly around Iris for a better view. “I’m saying nothing.” “You’re staring,” Iris said. “I can stare silently.” Birgitta laughed. Shammy made the mistake of looking at her. Their eyes met. For perhaps half a second. Birgitta saw recognition. Not of the cover. Of the situation. Sera knew. Sera knew exactly who was standing there. Exactly who Panam believed she had collared. Exactly who the others believed Birgitta was. And Sera was going to say absolutely nothing. Birgitta smiled at her. Shammy’s eyes narrowed. _Do not._ Birgitta’s smile widened. Shammy looked away. Ace noticed that. “Oh, you two know each other.” Danger. Tiny danger. Birgitta did nothing. Shammy answered smoothly. “Yeah. Through Sera.” Perfect. Ace nodded. “Makes sense.” Of course it did. Panam relaxed. Birgitta almost applauded. Brenda pointed at the leash. Then apparently remembered that pointing was rude and turned the gesture into something vague involving the entire street. “So.” Iris closed her eyes. “Brenda.” “What? Someone has to.” “No one has to.” “I disagree.” Panam sighed. Birgitta waited. Brenda looked between them. “New?” Panam glanced at Birgitta. Birgitta glanced at Panam. Panam answered. “Yes.” Ace’s eyebrows rose another fraction. Mai looked interested. Iris looked amused. Shammy looked like somebody carrying a classified explosive device through airport security. Birgitta decided she loved everybody here. That thought almost made her laugh. Which would have been dangerous for entirely different reasons. Because Birgitta did not know everybody here. Not like Reyes did. Birgitta knew them through overlapping pieces. Panam. Sera. Mandi. The strange premium-joytoy social ecosystem Night City had somehow built around itself. Enough to justify familiarity. Not enough to justify what Reyes actually knew. So she let Panam take the conversational lead. Good pet. That thought almost made her laugh again. Ace looked at Birgitta. “You okay with us asking?” Panam looked at Birgitta too. There. A genuine question. One that mattered. Birgitta smiled. “Yes.” Panam nodded. Ace pointed more carefully toward the collar. “Then I’m going to ask the obvious one.” Birgitta waited. “Is that just fashion or…?” Panam answered before she could. “No.” Silence. Birgitta felt something delighted uncurl inside her. Ace looked at Panam. Then Birgitta. “Oh.” Brenda’s mouth slowly turned upward. Mai’s expression became very, very interested. Iris gave Brenda a warning glance that had absolutely no effect. Shammy stared at Panam. Birgitta could practically hear the thought: _Reyes let you put a leash on her._ Panam, gloriously unaware, held it slightly higher as people moved past behind them. Not a display. Just practical. Keeping Birgitta close in the crowd. Birgitta stepped nearer automatically. That did not help. Ace saw it. Mai definitely saw it. Brenda saw everything. Iris’s smile became dangerous. Shammy briefly looked toward the sky as though asking the universe why it hated her personally. Panam noticed the collective reaction. “What?” “Nothing,” Mai said. Panam pointed. “That’s her answer.” Birgitta laughed. “Mine?” “You keep saying nothing when it’s definitely something.” Ace brightened. “Oh, she does that too?” Panam looked at her. Birgitta froze internally. Ace had meant nothing dangerous. Probably. But there it was. That half-degree. Too familiar. Shammy’s gaze snapped to Ace. Birgitta kept smiling. Panam frowned. “What do you mean, too?” Ace paused. Good. She caught it. Birgitta watched the correction happen. “Mandi.” There it was. “Mandi talks about her.” Panam’s expression relaxed slightly. Birgitta tilted her head. “Mandi talks about me?” Ace realized she had just opened another door. “Yes.” Birgitta’s smile became delighted. “What does she say?” Ace looked at Mai. Mai looked at Ace. Brenda looked delighted that this was no longer her problem. Iris was openly smiling now. Shammy appeared to be considering walking into traffic. Panam looked amused. Ace finally said: “That you’re expensive.” Birgitta burst out laughing. “That’s it?” “No.” “Oh?” Ace sighed. “She mentioned Sera and Panam too.” Birgitta glanced at Panam. “Interesting.” Panam groaned. “What the fuck did Mandi tell you?” “Enough,” Mai said. That sounded far too much like Mai. Not Maeve. Not Dalia. Just Mai. Birgitta noticed. Of course she noticed. Panam did not. And there it was again. The asymmetry. Birgitta had to remain perfect. Everyone else only had to remain plausible. Shammy caught Birgitta’s eye. A tiny expression. _Welcome to my hell._ Birgitta smiled sweetly. Shammy looked offended. Brenda finally gave up pretending not to be curious. “So what does it mean?” Panam looked at her. “The leash?” “Yes.” Panam glanced at Birgitta. This time Birgitta waited. Not because she needed permission to speak. Because she wanted Panam to answer. Panam noticed. Birgitta could tell. Something small changed in her posture. “It means she’s my pet.” Silence. Perfect silence. Ace blinked. Mai’s eyebrows rose. Brenda’s mouth opened. Iris stared. Shammy closed her eyes. Birgitta smiled. Panam looked around. “What?” Brenda found her voice first. “Your—” “Pet.” Panam said it as if clarifying a vehicle specification. Brenda looked at Birgitta. Birgitta nodded. “Yep.” Ace looked fascinated. Mai looked like she had suddenly acquired approximately fourteen questions. Iris looked at Panam with new appreciation. Shammy still had her eyes closed. Birgitta tilted her head. “You okay?” Shammy opened them. “Perfect.” Reyes knew that tone. Shammy was going to murder her later. Possibly with a pillow. Birgitta smiled. “Good.” Shammy’s eyes narrowed. Panam looked down at Birgitta. “Behave.” Birgitta went still. Not dramatically. Not performatively. Just immediately. She lowered her chin slightly. “Yes, owner.” Silence again. This one was even better. Ace stared. Mai slowly turned toward Panam. Brenda made a small strangled noise. Iris looked like somebody had handed her free tickets to the best show in Night City. Shammy covered her mouth with one hand. Birgitta knew exactly why. Panam looked at the group. Then at Birgitta. Then back. “What the fuck is wrong with all of you?” Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Except Reyes was standing in front of four people who knew her intimately, wearing a different face and a collar, calling Panam her owner— and only Shammy knew the truth. Birgitta smiled. This week was going to be incredible. --- ## CHAPTER 8 — TOO FAMILIAR Accidental meetings were easy. Accidental meetings that refused to end were harder. Ace solved that problem by pointing toward the nearest coffee place. “We’re getting coffee.” Mai looked at her. “We already had coffee.” “That was earlier.” “It was twenty minutes ago.” Ace considered this. “Exactly.” Brenda laughed. Iris shook her head. Panam looked at Birgitta. Birgitta waited. That small pause was becoming natural enough that nobody except Sera seemed to notice it anymore. Panam glanced toward the café. “Fine.” Birgitta smiled. “Coffee it is.” They started walking. Panam went first. Birgitta followed at her side. The leash remained loose between them. Ace looked down at it once. Brenda looked twice. Iris definitely noticed Brenda looking twice. Mai seemed to have decided that pretending not to be interested was beneath her. Sera said nothing. Birgitta caught her eye. Sera’s expression was completely ordinary. Only Birgitta knew exactly how much effort that required. --- The café had enough room for all of them if everyone accepted that personal space was temporarily theoretical. Two tables were dragged together. Panam chose a chair. Birgitta started toward the one beside her. Panam pointed to another. “There.” Birgitta changed direction and sat. Immediate. Easy. The conversation paused. Barely. Maybe half a second. But Birgitta noticed. Of course she did. Panam noticed too. “What?” Ace looked innocent. “Nothing.” Panam stared at her. Mai sighed. “You were staring.” “I was observing.” “You were staring professionally?” “Yes.” Birgitta laughed. Brenda joined her. Iris looked at Panam. “So it’s actually functional.” Panam glanced at the leash. “Yes.” No embarrassment. No performance. Just yes. Birgitta liked that. Brenda leaned one elbow on the table. “I was trying not to ask.” “You failed,” Iris said. “I haven’t asked yet.” “You announced that you were trying not to ask.” “Different thing.” Birgitta smiled. “Ask.” Brenda looked at her. “You sure?” “Yes.” “What does pet actually mean?” Panam looked at Birgitta. Birgitta could feel the question in that glance. Not permission. Space. She appreciated the distinction. “It means I gave her authority.” Ace’s eyebrows rose. Mai’s expression sharpened with interest. Brenda stopped smiling quite so broadly. Iris listened. Sera took a drink. Birgitta continued. “Not over everything.” “Obviously,” Panam said. Birgitta smiled at her. “But over enough that it matters.” Brenda glanced at the leash. “Like where you sit.” “Yes.” “Where you go?” “Sometimes.” “When you leave?” “Yes.” Ace looked between them. “And you like that.” Birgitta laughed. “That seems to be the increasingly embarrassing conclusion.” Panam snorted. “Embarrassing?” “A little.” “Why?” “Because you’re enjoying being right about it far too much.” “I am right.” “See?” Mai smiled. There was something about that smile Birgitta knew too well. Not because Mai was doing anything wrong. Because Reyes knew exactly what Mai looked like when she found a control dynamic interesting. Birgitta did not. So Birgitta simply returned the smile. Mai said: “I can see why it works.” Panam looked at her. “Can you?” Mai hesitated. Tiny. Too tiny for Panam to care. Not too tiny for Birgitta. “I’ve seen similar dynamics.” There. Plausible. Birgitta nodded. “Then you know the part that surprised me.” “Which part?” “How ordinary it gets.” Mai’s expression changed. A fraction warmer. “Yes.” That answer was slightly too immediate. Birgitta noticed. Sera noticed Birgitta noticing. Nobody else did. Good. The server arrived. Menus were distributed. Birgitta opened hers. Panam looked over. “Coffee.” “Yes.” Panam looked at the menu for perhaps ten seconds. Then ordered for both of them. Birgitta closed hers. Ace watched that. “You didn’t even tell her what you wanted.” Birgitta smiled. “She knows.” “What if she gets it wrong?” “Then I suffer bravely.” Panam looked at her. “You’re getting the same thing you had yesterday.” Birgitta turned. “You remembered.” Panam frowned. “Of course I remembered.” Ace made a small sound. Panam looked at her. “What?” “Nothing.” Birgitta started laughing. Panam turned toward her. “You too?” “I’m learning that ‘nothing’ is contagious.” Brenda grinned. “I like her.” The sentence landed before Birgitta could protect herself from it. She looked at Brenda. Too familiar. Too warm. Reyes knew exactly how much affection lived behind Brenda’s casual smile. Birgitta was supposed to know considerably less. “I’m very likable,” she said lightly. Brenda laughed. “Confident too.” “I charge accordingly.” That redirected the conversation beautifully. Ace brightened. “Oh, Mandi mentioned that.” Panam groaned. Birgitta turned toward Ace. “Mandi mentioned my rates?” Ace suddenly looked as if she had discovered a small unexploded device directly in front of her. “Not exactly.” Mai smiled into her drink. Brenda looked delighted. Iris waited. Sera remained completely neutral. Birgitta leaned forward. “Oh, now you absolutely have to explain.” Ace pointed at Panam. “She started it.” “I didn’t say anything.” “No, but this is somehow your fault.” “How?” “Mandi heard about Sera and Birgitta and—” Ace stopped. Panam narrowed her eyes. “And?” Ace looked at Birgitta. Then at Panam. Then decided she had already gone too far to retreat with dignity. “She said Panam had expensive taste.” Birgitta burst out laughing. Panam closed her eyes. “Fuck me.” “Oh, that is wonderful.” “No, it isn’t.” “It really is.” Brenda leaned closer. “So Mandi knows Birgitta?” Birgitta answered before anybody else could. “We’ve crossed paths.” True enough. “How?” “Mandi and Sera both exist in roughly the same ridiculous little social universe I do.” Sera smiled faintly. Birgitta looked at her. No rescue. No addition. No dangerous specificity. Exactly right. Ace nodded. “Mandi talks.” “So I’ve gathered.” “Mostly about herself,” Mai said. Ace looked at her. “That is unfair.” Mai raised an eyebrow. Ace reconsidered. “Fine. Mostly about herself.” Birgitta laughed. The drinks arrived. Panam took hers. Birgitta looked at the one placed in front of her. Exactly right. Of course. She took a sip. Panam watched. “Well?” Birgitta smiled. “Good.” Panam’s expression became faintly satisfied. There. That tiny thing. Praise without even saying the word. Birgitta felt it anyway. Iris noticed. Not why. Just the reaction. Her eyes moved from Birgitta to Panam. Interesting. Birgitta filed that away and immediately reminded herself that Birgitta did not know Iris well enough to file away anything about her. This was going to become exhausting. Ace sipped her coffee. “So how much has Mandi actually told you about us?” There it was. Birgitta smiled. “Enough that I know who you are.” Ace looked pleased. Mai looked suspiciously amused. Brenda waved. Iris gave a small nod. Birgitta pointed lightly around the table. “Ace. Mai. Brenda. Iris.” Then Sera. “Sera I already know.” Nobody reacted strangely. Good. “And obviously Panam.” Panam looked at her. “Obviously.” Birgitta smiled. Ace leaned back. “See? Perfectly normal.” Birgitta laughed. “I don’t think anything about this network is normal.” “That’s probably healthier.” Brenda looked toward Panam. “How much did _she_ tell you about us?” Birgitta’s smile almost became Reyes’s. Almost. Because the truthful answer was far too much. She caught it. “Some.” Panam answered at the same time. “Not much.” Birgitta looked at her. Panam looked back. Brenda laughed. “Interesting.” Birgitta recovered easily. “She mostly talks about practical things.” Panam pointed. “Exactly.” “Trucks.” “Yes.” “Routes.” “Yes.” “People who piss her off.” Ace laughed. “That list is long.” Birgitta almost said _you’re on it regularly._ Reyes knew that. Birgitta did not. She took a drink instead. Sera’s eyes flicked toward her. Birgitta met them. Tiny acknowledgment. Caught it. Sera’s expression remained neutral. That was all. Mai looked at Birgitta’s collar. “Can I ask something slightly more personal?” “Sure.” “Why pet?” Panam glanced at Birgitta. Birgitta smiled. “That was an accident.” Panam groaned. “It was not.” “You called me one first.” “I said you were _like_ a pet.” “And then everything went terribly wrong.” Brenda laughed. Iris smiled. Ace looked delighted. Mai looked between them. “So you chose the word.” Birgitta pointed at Panam. “She did.” “I did not.” “You absolutely did.” “I was trying to describe what you wanted.” “And you did an excellent job.” Panam shook her head. Birgitta continued, enjoying herself now. “Master didn’t fit.” Panam immediately said: “No.” “Slave definitely didn’t fit.” “Absolutely fucking not.” Ace nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah.” Birgitta looked at her. Ace froze. There. Half a degree. Why would Ace have an opinion already? Ace recovered quickly. “I mean, from what you’ve just described.” Plausible. Birgitta smiled. “Exactly.” Mai glanced at Ace. Ace ignored her. Birgitta continued. “Owner and pet fit.” Brenda looked at Panam. “Owner.” Panam sighed. “Yes.” Iris smiled. “You hate the word.” “I hated the word.” Birgitta turned. “Past tense?” Panam looked at her. Birgitta’s smile became slowly dangerous. Panam immediately regretted the sentence. “Don’t.” “Oh.” “Birgitta.” “You like it now.” “I tolerate it.” “My owner tolerates being my owner.” Panam pointed at her. “Behave.” Birgitta went still. Immediate. The table went quiet again. This time longer. Birgitta did not move. She didn’t laugh. Didn’t tease. Didn’t take another drink. She simply waited. Panam looked at her. Then realized everyone else was looking too. “What?” Brenda blinked. “Nothing.” Iris elbowed her gently. Ace looked at Birgitta. Mai looked at Panam. Sera took another drink. Birgitta waited. Panam’s expression changed slightly. Not discomfort. Awareness. The others were finally seeing the distinction. Pet was not a nickname. Owner was not just flirting. The leash was not jewelry. Panam softened. “Good.” Birgitta’s smile returned immediately. Brenda’s eyebrows shot up. Iris caught it too. Ace definitely did. Mai’s expression said she had just understood something important. Sera looked down into her cup. Birgitta knew why. Reyes liked praise. Apparently rather more than Reyes had previously advertised. Sera was going to treasure that information forever. Bitch. Birgitta took her coffee again. Panam glanced around the table. “Now can everybody stop analyzing us?” “No,” Brenda said. Iris sighed. “Brenda.” “What? They’re interesting.” Birgitta laughed. “I like her.” Again. Too easy. This time she saw the mistake before anyone else had time to react. So she added: “Mandi undersold you.” Brenda brightened. “Oh?” Ace immediately looked suspicious. “What did Mandi say about Brenda?” Birgitta leaned back. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” Perfect. Brenda laughed. Ace protested. Mai joined in. The moment disappeared into noise. Birgitta exhaled internally. Sera did not look at her. That helped more than looking would have. --- After that, familiarity became a minefield made entirely of tiny things. Ace asked Birgitta whether she liked spicy food with the casual assumption that they would probably eat together again. Mai shifted her chair to make more room for Birgitta without thinking. Brenda offered her a taste of something from her plate before apparently remembering that they had met properly less than an hour ago. Iris included her in a joke about Panam without first checking whether Birgitta knew enough about Panam for the joke to land. None of it was suspicious. All of it was too comfortable. Birgitta began to understand why. They already trusted Panam. They already trusted Sera. Mandi had spoken about Birgitta. And Birgitta herself behaved like someone comfortable in their orbit because Reyes had been comfortable there for years. Everyone was meeting in the middle. That was useful. And dangerous. Ace was telling a story about a vendor in Japantown. Birgitta knew the story. She had been there for half of it. She knew the punchline. Ace reached the point where the vendor— Birgitta bit the inside of her cheek. Wait. Ace delivered the punchline. Everyone laughed. Birgitta laughed with them. Sera’s eyes flicked toward her. Birgitta gave her the smallest nod. That one had been close. Panam noticed something else entirely. “You okay?” Birgitta turned. “Yes.” “You looked weird for a second.” Birgitta smiled. “I was trying not to interrupt.” Ace pointed at her. “See? She does understand social restraint.” Panam snorted. “Apparently only around strangers.” Birgitta nearly choked. Everyone laughed. Because to them it meant Birgitta was already comfortable with Panam. Only Birgitta and Sera heard the second meaning. Birgitta looked at Sera. Sera was staring firmly at Ace. Not one word. Perfect. Birgitta loved her for that. Dangerous thought. Not allowed on her face. She looked back at Panam. “Apparently.” --- Eventually Iris checked the time. “We should move.” Ace looked disappointed. “We just got comfortable.” “We’ve been here almost an hour.” “That’s barely comfortable.” Mai stood. Brenda followed. Sera rose last. Panam stood and gathered the leash. Birgitta automatically waited until Panam moved. Again, everyone saw it. Nobody commented this time. That was progress. Or normalization. Possibly both. Brenda smiled at Birgitta. “Nice seeing you.” “You too.” Good. Warm, but safe. Iris nodded. “I suspect we’ll run into you again.” Birgitta looked toward Panam. Not theatrically. Just naturally. Panam answered. “Probably.” Birgitta smiled. Iris noticed that too. Interesting woman. Dangerous woman. Reyes adored her. Birgitta barely knew her. Keep those separate. Ace waved. “Tell Mandi she talks too much.” Birgitta laughed. “I absolutely will.” Mai looked at her. “You’re seeing her soon?” Half a degree. Again. Why would Mai assume that? Ace realized it too. Mai recovered before anyone needed to. “If you run into her.” Birgitta smiled. “I’ll pass it on.” No damage. No tension. Panam tugged lightly on the leash. “Come on.” Birgitta turned immediately. “Yes, owner.” They walked away. Six steps. Ten. Panam looked sideways at her. “You like them.” Birgitta’s heartbeat stumbled. She kept walking. “They’re fun.” “That wasn’t what I said.” Damn Panam. Birgitta smiled. “I like them.” Panam nodded. No suspicion. No question why. Just acceptance. “They like you.” Birgitta looked ahead. That was harder. “Apparently.” Panam gave the leash a tiny pull. Birgitta moved closer. “They would.” Birgitta looked at her. Panam shrugged. “You’re easy to like.” For once, Birgitta had no clever answer. Behind them, laughter rose from the group they had just left. She did not turn around. Especially because she knew every voice in it. Especially because one of those voices knew exactly who she was. And especially because the hardest part of being Birgitta around these people was becoming obvious. The face was easy. The voice was easy. The name was easy. The difficult part was pretending to meet people Reyes already loved— and letting Birgitta learn to love them slowly enough that nobody ever wondered why. --- ## CHAPTER 9 — STAY They should have separated after coffee. That had clearly been the intention. Ace, Mai, Brenda and Iris had stores they wanted to visit. Sera had something vaguely art-related to do. Panam had errands. Birgitta had Panam. Simple. Night City disagreed. Twenty minutes later, Panam was standing at a street vendor examining a compact set of tools while Birgitta waited beside her, and a familiar voice called from behind them. “Birgitta!” Ace. Birgitta turned. The others were crossing the pedestrian strip toward them. Apparently their separate plans had lasted approximately one block. Ace waved. Brenda lifted one hand. Mai was carrying a bag she definitely had not possessed earlier. Iris looked resigned to all of them. Sera was beside her. Birgitta smiled. Sera smiled back. Easy. Familiar. They had spent enough time together on Jig-Jig Street that there was no reason for anything else. Worked together. Shared bookings. Shared clients. And, most memorably, shared Panam. Panam herself had booked both of them. There was nothing secret about Sera knowing Birgitta. The secret lived underneath that perfectly ordinary truth. Birgitta took a step toward them. The leash moved. Just enough pressure against the collar to register. Then Panam said: “Stay.” Birgitta stopped. Immediately. One foot had barely begun the second step. She settled it back beside the first. And waited. Panam kept examining the tools. The others were still approaching. Birgitta saw the moment they understood what had happened. Ace slowed. Mai’s eyes went briefly to the leash. Brenda’s eyebrows climbed. Iris looked from Birgitta to Panam. Sera— Sera knew Birgitta well enough not to be surprised by the collar. She knew Reyes well enough to understand the rest. Her expression barely changed. But her eyes did. Oh. Not shock. Recognition. Something had shifted since the Panam she and Birgitta had once shared on a booking. That Panam had been confident. Direct. Naturally commanding even when she had no idea she was doing it. This Panam had said one word and expected it to matter. Birgitta had made it matter. Sera understood exactly what she was seeing. She said nothing. Of course. The group reached them. Birgitta remained where Panam had left her. Ace looked at her. Then at Panam. Then at the loose leash. “Hi.” Birgitta smiled. “Hi.” Ace waited. Birgitta waited. Brenda’s mouth started twitching. Iris noticed. Mai definitely noticed. Sera folded her arms. Panam asked the vendor a question. The vendor answered. Birgitta stayed. Ace finally looked at Sera. Sera looked back. Ace made a tiny helpless gesture toward Birgitta. Sera shrugged. That was all. Not her secret. Not her explanation. And, more importantly, nothing about Sera and Birgitta needed explaining. Ace looked back at Birgitta. “You’re actually waiting.” “Yes.” “Because she said stay.” “Yes.” Birgitta smiled. “What part is confusing?” “None of it.” Ace paused. “Which is somehow making it worse.” Birgitta laughed. Panam finally finished with the vendor. She paid. Put the small tool kit away. Then turned. Saw the group. Saw Birgitta still standing exactly where she had been told. Panam’s expression changed. Tiny. Satisfied. “Good.” There it was. Birgitta felt the word all the way down. Sera saw that too. Of course she fucking did. Birgitta looked at her. Sera’s face remained perfectly composed. Only one eyebrow moved. Birgitta narrowed her eyes. Sera’s mouth threatened to smile. Bitch. Panam looked at Birgitta. “Come.” Birgitta crossed the distance immediately and stopped beside her. That was when the others really went quiet. Not because Birgitta had obeyed once. Because they had now seen both halves. Stay. Come. No argument. No performance. No visible negotiation. The leash had barely done anything. It had not needed to. Brenda looked at Iris. Iris looked fascinated. Mai’s expression had become thoughtful. Ace stared openly. Panam noticed. “What?” Ace pointed at Birgitta. “That.” “What about her?” “You told her to stay.” “Yes.” “And she stayed.” “Yes.” “Then you told her to come.” “Yes.” “And she came.” Panam stared at her. “That is generally how those words work.” Brenda laughed. Ace looked betrayed. “You know what I mean.” Panam did. Birgitta knew she did. So did everybody else. Panam glanced at Birgitta. “She’s my pet.” Simple. Birgitta smiled. “Yes.” Ace looked at the leash. “So that isn’t…” She gestured vaguely. “Decoration?” Panam asked. “Yeah.” “No.” Birgitta lifted the leash slightly with one finger. “It is quite pretty, though.” Panam snorted. “You picked it.” “You paid for it.” “Owner responsibility.” Birgitta’s smile widened. “There she is.” Panam gave her a look. Brenda laughed again. Iris stepped slightly closer. “Can I ask something?” Birgitta nodded. “Sure.” “If Panam said stay and you didn’t want to?” “I wouldn’t.” No hesitation. Iris nodded once. “And then?” Birgitta looked at Panam. Panam answered. “Then I’d want to know why.” Iris’s expression softened. “Okay.” That was enough for her. No interrogation. No lecture about consent. No need to turn something they understood into a checklist. Brenda looked at Birgitta. “And if she says it now?” Birgitta smiled. “Then I stay.” Panam looked at Brenda. “Don’t encourage her.” “Why?” “Because she enjoys an audience.” Birgitta gasped. “Slander.” Sera laughed. That laugh was familiar. Not dangerous. Sera and Birgitta had laughed together plenty of times. Panam knew that better than anyone standing there. She had once been right in the middle of it. Panam looked at Sera. “You know I’m right.” Sera smiled. “Oh, absolutely.” Birgitta turned toward her. “Traitor.” “Pet.” Birgitta stared. Sera smiled sweetly. Ace made a delighted noise. Panam pointed at Sera. “Do not teach them that.” “Too late,” Brenda said. Birgitta laughed. This was safe. Beautifully safe. Sera could tease Birgitta because Sera had earned that familiarity publicly. Panam expected it. Everyone expected it. The dangerous part was invisible. Sera knew why Panam’s simple command mattered on another level. She knew the woman inside Birgitta. Knew Reyes’s independence. Her reflex to assess for herself. Move for herself. Decide for herself. And Sera had just watched that woman willingly hand a piece of that authority to Panam. Not lose it. Hand it over. Sera understood the distinction. That was why she did not make a joke about Reyes. Did not give Birgitta a knowing look that lasted too long. Did not turn knowledge into evidence. She simply smiled at Birgitta exactly the way Sera had every right to smile at Birgitta. Perfect. Mai looked at Panam. “How often do you use it?” “Use what?” “Stay.” Panam shrugged. “When I need it.” Birgitta smiled. “She’s discovering applications.” Panam looked at her. “You wandered toward a shoe display yesterday.” “They were beautiful.” “You were supposed to wait.” “They were _very_ beautiful.” Ace looked at Birgitta. “What happened?” Birgitta sighed theatrically. “She made me come back.” “With the leash?” “No.” Ace waited. Birgitta smiled. “She told me.” That landed again. Smaller this time. The group was beginning to understand. The leash was visible. The authority was mostly not. Brenda looked at Panam. “You barely need that thing.” Panam glanced at the leash. “No.” Birgitta touched the collar. “I like it anyway.” Panam’s expression softened. “So do I.” Sera watched that exchange. Birgitta saw something warm in her face. Not amusement this time. Approval. Sera had been there before this. Not at the beginning. But close enough to remember Panam and Birgitta before _owner_ and _pet_ existed between them. Now she could see the shape of what had grown. Birgitta smiled at her. Sera smiled back. Nothing hidden in it that anyone else needed to notice. Just friends. Just coworkers. Just two joytoys who had shared work, clients and one particularly memorable nomad. Only one of them happened to know two names for the other. Ace looked around. “So are we all going the same direction again?” “No,” Panam said immediately. Ace laughed. “You don’t even know where we’re going.” “I know I’m not spending the entire day accidentally shopping with you.” Mai looked at the bag in her hand. “That seems unnecessarily hostile.” “You've bought something every fifteen minutes.” “Yes.” “That’s my point.” “It’s not a good point.” Birgitta leaned toward Panam. “I like shopping with them.” Panam looked at her. Birgitta smiled brightly. Panam considered. “No.” Birgitta blinked. Ace laughed. “Oh, I like this.” Birgitta turned. “Quiet.” Ace looked delighted. “You asked.” “I did not ask you.” Panam started walking. The leash moved. Birgitta followed. Ace called after them: “Bye, Birgitta!” Birgitta turned her head. “Bye!” Her body began to angle with it. Panam felt the movement through the leash. “Stay with me.” Birgitta corrected immediately. Back beside her. No pause. No complaint. Behind them came a burst of laughter. Birgitta looked at Panam. “You did that on purpose.” “No.” “You absolutely did.” “You were drifting.” “I was saying goodbye.” “You can say goodbye while walking straight.” Birgitta stared at her. Panam kept walking. “My owner is unreasonable.” “Keep walking, pet.” Birgitta smiled. “Yes, owner.” Behind them, Sera laughed louder than anyone. --- They were three blocks away before Panam spoke again. “You liked that.” Birgitta glanced over. “What?” “Back there.” “Coffee?” “Stay.” Birgitta smiled. “That wasn’t a question.” “No.” Panam kept walking. Birgitta watched her. “You liked it too.” Panam did not answer. That was an answer. Birgitta moved slightly closer. Panam looked down at her. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta laughed. “You liked telling me.” Panam’s mouth twitched. “Maybe.” “Maybe.” “You liked doing it.” “Yes.” No reason to pretend otherwise. Panam looked ahead. Birgitta watched the side of her face. There was something different now. Yesterday Panam had still been learning whether she was allowed to enjoy this. Today she was beginning to understand that permission had already been given. Not unlimited permission. Not ownership in some absolute sense. Something more deliberate than that. Birgitta had chosen the boundary. Panam was learning to fill the space inside it. “You didn’t check,” Birgitta said. Panam looked at her. “What?” “Before you told me to stay.” Panam slowed slightly. Birgitta continued. “You didn’t look at me first. You didn’t ask whether it was okay. You just told me.” Panam stopped. Birgitta stopped beside her. For a second Panam looked concerned. “Was that a problem?” “No.” Immediate. Panam studied her. Birgitta smiled. “That’s the point.” Panam understood. Slowly. “You wanted me not to ask.” “Yes.” “Because we already decided.” “Yes.” Panam looked at the leash in her hand. Then at Birgitta. “And if it stops being okay?” “Home.” Panam nodded. Immediate. No hesitation. “Home.” There it was. The foundation under everything else. Birgitta could stop it. Panam knew she could stop it. Which meant Panam did not need to keep asking whether she wanted it every thirty seconds. Birgitta stepped closer. “I don’t want an owner who asks permission to be my owner every time she opens her mouth.” Panam laughed softly. “That sounds fucking exhausting.” “It would be.” “So.” Panam considered. Then pointed toward a bench several meters away. “Sit.” Birgitta looked at the bench. Then at Panam. The command settled warmly through her. She walked to it. Sat. Panam remained standing. Birgitta waited. Panam stared at her. Birgitta smiled. “Well?” Panam laughed. “You’re impossible.” “I am sitting exactly where you told me.” “That somehow makes you worse.” “Owner problems.” Panam walked over. Stopped in front of her. Birgitta looked up. Panam touched the collar lightly. “Pet problems.” Birgitta smiled. “Your pet problems.” Panam went still. Just for a second. Then her thumb moved over the leather. “Yeah.” Quiet. Certain. “Mine.” Birgitta covered Panam’s hand with her own and held it against the collar for one beat longer. Birgitta felt that one everywhere. She reached up and caught Panam’s jacket. Pulled her closer. Panam kissed her. Slow. Warm. No audience now. No Safehouse group watching. No Sera quietly understanding more than anyone else. Just Panam. Just Birgitta. Owner. Pet. When they separated, Panam stayed close. Birgitta rested her forehead against her. “You know what the really annoying part is?” “What?” “You’re good at this.” Panam laughed. “I told you.” “No. You absolutely did not.” “I thought it.” “That doesn’t count.” “It counts to me.” Birgitta sighed. “Arrogant owner.” “Difficult pet.” “Your difficult pet.” Panam smiled. “Yeah.” She straightened. Then took one step back. Birgitta started to rise. Panam looked at her. “Stay.” Birgitta sat back. Panam smiled. Birgitta narrowed her eyes. “You’re enjoying that word far too much.” Panam started walking toward a nearby food stand. “Stay.” Birgitta laughed. “Yes, owner.” Panam did not turn around. She did not need to. Birgitta stayed. And this time there was nobody watching. Which somehow made it matter even more. --- ## CHAPTER 10 — YOU LIKED THAT Panam returned five minutes later carrying food. Birgitta was exactly where she had left her. Same bench. Same position. One leg crossed over the other. Watching people move through the street. She saw Panam coming. Smiled. Did not stand. Panam noticed. Of course she did. She stopped in front of Birgitta and held out a paper cup. “Here.” Birgitta took it. “Thank you.” Panam handed her a wrapped sandwich next. Birgitta accepted that too. Then Panam sat beside her. Only then did Birgitta shift closer. Their shoulders touched. Panam glanced sideways. “You really stayed.” Birgitta laughed. “You sound surprised.” “I’m not.” “You sound surprised.” “I knew you would.” “Then why mention it?” Panam opened her food. “Because I liked coming back and finding you here.” There. Birgitta looked at her. Panam took a bite as if she had said nothing important. Birgitta smiled slowly. “You liked that.” Panam kept chewing. “Food?” “No.” Panam swallowed. “Be specific.” “Oh, I intend to.” Panam sighed. Birgitta took a sip from her drink. “You liked telling me to stay.” “Yes.” The answer came so quickly Birgitta almost missed the opportunity to tease her. Almost. Her eyebrows rose. “Well.” Panam looked over. “What?” “That was easy.” “You wanted me to lie?” “No.” “Then yes.” Panam took another bite. “I liked it.” Birgitta stared at her for another second. Something about the complete absence of embarrassment made her smile. Yesterday Panam might have argued first. Qualified it. Asked another question. Made sure Birgitta was comfortable with Panam admitting she enjoyed authority. Today: Yes. I liked it. Progress. Birgitta unwrapped her sandwich. “And earlier?” “At the kiosk?” “Yes.” Panam nodded. “That too.” “With everyone watching.” Panam stopped eating. There. That one required thought. Birgitta waited. Panam looked across the street. “I noticed them.” “I know.” “I almost changed it.” Birgitta turned slightly toward her. “Changed what?” “Telling you to stay.” “Why?” Panam shrugged. “Because it was ours.” Birgitta’s teasing disappeared. Panam continued. “I didn’t know if you wanted them seeing it.” That was fair. More than fair. “What made you decide not to change it?” Panam looked at her. “You were already moving.” Birgitta waited. “I wanted you to stay.” Simple. “So I told you.” Birgitta smiled. “And I stayed.” “Yeah.” “You liked that.” Panam smiled back. “Yeah.” Birgitta leaned against her. For a while they ate without talking. Night City filled the silence for them. Traffic. Voices. Music leaking from somewhere overhead. A delivery drone complaining about restricted airspace. Someone arguing about a parking charge. Nothing intimate. Nothing dramatic. Which was exactly why Birgitta liked sitting there with a collar around her throat and a leash resting partly across Panam’s thigh. It belonged in the ordinary world now. Not hidden away in a bedroom. Not saved for sex. Not something they had to ceremonially begin and end. Panam ate. Birgitta ate. The leash existed. The world continued. Eventually Birgitta said: “You know what I liked?” Panam glanced at her. “What?” “You didn’t drop it.” “The leash?” “The dynamic.” Panam waited. “When we ran into them.” “Why would I?” Birgitta smiled. “That is exactly the answer I wanted.” Panam frowned slightly. Birgitta continued. “You could have decided it was private.” “It is private.” “Parts of it.” “Yeah.” “You could have become self-conscious.” “I did.” Birgitta blinked. “You did?” “Of course I fucking did.” Panam looked at her. “Your friends were watching me tell you to stay like I’d suddenly grown another head.” Birgitta carefully ignored the word _your_. Reasonable. Mandi had already established the social connection. Birgitta had spent an hour getting along with them. Panam had watched it happen. No danger there. “They weren’t judging you.” “I know.” “Mostly.” Panam narrowed her eyes. Birgitta laughed. “Ace was fascinated.” “Ace is fascinated by everything.” “Brenda thought it was adorable.” “That was worse.” “Iris understood it.” Panam nodded. “Yeah.” “Mai understood more than she said.” Panam looked at Birgitta. “You noticed that too?” Birgitta froze internally. Careful. Birgitta smiled. “She wasn’t exactly subtle.” Good. Panam accepted it. “And Sera already knows us.” There. Natural. Safe. Birgitta nodded. “Very well.” Panam snorted. “Yeah.” A shared booking did tend to remove a few social mysteries. Birgitta took another bite. Panam glanced at her. “Sera didn’t seem surprised.” Birgitta swallowed. “She knows me.” Also completely safe. Panam herself had seen enough of Sera and Birgitta together to know that. “She knows you’re stubborn.” Birgitta looked offended. “I am not stubborn.” Panam laughed. “Sera would call bullshit before I finished the sentence.” “So would Mandi.” “Exactly.” Birgitta smiled. “So would you.” “I just did.” “Rude.” “My pet.” Birgitta went quiet. Panam laughed. “Oh, that works way too fucking well.” Birgitta pointed her sandwich at her. “That.” “What?” “That face.” “What face?” “You enjoy shutting me up.” Panam grinned. There it was again. “You liked that.” “Yes.” Birgitta stared. Panam stared back. Then Birgitta started laughing. “You’re not even trying to deny anything anymore.” “Why should I?” “I don’t know. Social convention?” “Fuck social convention.” “That does sound like you.” Panam finished her food and crushed the wrapper. Birgitta watched her. “So what else do you like?” Panam looked suspicious. “This feels like a trap.” “It is absolutely a trap.” “No.” “Owner.” “No.” Birgitta smiled sweetly. “My owner.” Panam pointed at her. “That doesn’t work when you’re trying to manipulate me.” “Worth testing.” Panam stood. Birgitta started gathering the wrappers. “Leave those.” Birgitta stopped. Panam collected them instead. Birgitta watched. “You know I can throw away my own garbage.” “Yes.” “But you told me to leave it.” “Yes.” “Why?” Panam looked at her as if the answer were obvious. “Because I’m already taking mine.” Birgitta smiled. There it was again. Authority and care tangled together so naturally Panam barely noticed herself doing it. Owner responsibilities. Not service. Not helplessness. Just: I decide. I take care of you. Panam threw the wrappers away. Returned. Birgitta remained seated. Panam stopped in front of her. “Up.” Birgitta stood. Panam took the leash. “Come on.” They started walking. --- For the next hour, Panam experimented. Not theatrically. That would have ruined it. She simply stopped asking questions that did not need to be questions. At the first intersection: “Left.” Birgitta went left. At a market: “Wait here.” Birgitta waited. Panam bought something from a vendor. Returned. Handed the bag to Birgitta. “Hold this.” Birgitta took it. Five minutes later Birgitta spotted a clothing store. She slowed. Panam felt it through the leash. “No.” Birgitta looked at her. “But—” “No.” Birgitta looked longingly at the window. Panam kept walking. Birgitta followed. “This is oppression.” “You have enough clothes.” “That sentence is objectively false.” “Keep walking.” “Yes, owner.” Panam smiled. Birgitta saw it. “You liked that.” “Keep walking.” “That means yes.” Panam gave the leash a tiny flick. Birgitta laughed and moved closer. At another stall, Birgitta reached toward a tray of cheap jewelry. Panam said: “No.” Birgitta withdrew her hand. “You didn’t even look.” “I looked.” “You looked for half a second.” “It’s garbage.” “It was shiny.” “You are not a magpie.” “Debatable.” Panam laughed. Then stopped at a different display ten meters later. Better materials. Better workmanship. She examined a small bracelet. Birgitta watched. Panam picked it up. Held it against Birgitta’s wrist. Birgitta went quiet. Panam looked at the vendor. “How much?” Birgitta blinked. “Panam.” Panam looked at her. “Do you like it?” “Yes, but—” Panam looked back at the vendor. Bought it. Birgitta stared. Panam took her wrist. Fastened the bracelet herself. “There.” Birgitta looked down. Simple. Elegant. Expensive enough to be good. Not absurd enough to be stupid. Very Panam. “You said no to the jewelry I wanted.” “It was shit.” “So you bought me jewelry instead.” “Yes.” Birgitta looked up. “You realize what you’re doing.” Panam frowned. “What?” Birgitta lifted her wrist. “This.” Panam shrugged. “I picked a better one.” Birgitta smiled. Owner chooses. Owner provides. Owner takes care. Panam was building the dynamic instinctively. “You liked choosing it.” Panam looked at the bracelet. Then at Birgitta. “Yes.” “And you like seeing me wear what you chose.” Panam’s eyes stayed on the bracelet for another moment. “Yes.” Birgitta smiled. Panam narrowed her eyes. “Stop looking so fucking pleased with yourself.” “I’m not pleased with myself.” “No?” “I’m pleased with my owner.” That got her. Panam looked away. Birgitta laughed. “Oh, wow.” “Shut up.” “You’re blushing.” “I am not.” “You absolutely are.” “Walk.” “Yes, owner.” Panam tugged the leash. Birgitta followed, laughing. --- Later they stopped for coffee. Panam chose the place. Panam chose the table. Panam chose where Birgitta sat. Then Panam went to order. Birgitta remained at the table. No command required. She realized that after perhaps thirty seconds. Interesting. She could have gone with her. Normally would have. Instead she had simply assumed Panam would handle it. That was new. Panam returned carrying both drinks. Set Birgitta’s in front of her. Exactly right. Again. Birgitta looked at it. Then at Panam. “You remembered.” Panam sat. “You already said that earlier.” “I know.” “Then stop acting surprised.” Birgitta smiled. “I’m not surprised.” “What are you?” Birgitta thought about it. “Not responsible.” Panam frowned. “For coffee?” “For this.” She gestured between them. Not the relationship. The moment. “I didn’t choose the place.” “No.” “I didn’t choose the table.” “No.” “I didn’t order.” “No.” “I didn’t even decide whether I was coming with you to the counter.” Panam watched her. Birgitta wrapped both hands around the cup. “And somehow I have exactly what I wanted.” Panam leaned back. “You told me what coffee you like.” “Yesterday.” “I remember things.” “I know.” Panam waited. Birgitta smiled. “It’s nice.” “What is?” “Not having to manage everything.” That landed. Panam’s expression changed. Birgitta continued. “I can manage things.” “I know.” “I’m very good at it.” “I know.” “I don't need somebody making decisions because I can’t make them.” “I know.” “Good.” Panam’s eyes narrowed. Birgitta laughed. “Sorry.” “No, you’re not.” “No.” Panam took her coffee. Birgitta watched people passing outside. “That’s what I’m giving you.” Panam looked at her. “The leash?” “No.” Birgitta shook her head. “The decisions.” Panam said nothing. “I can take them back whenever I need to.” “Home.” “Yes.” “But until then.” Birgitta looked at her. “They’re yours.” Panam went very still. Not all decisions. They both knew that. No need to ruin the moment by pretending language had no context. Panam understood exactly what Birgitta meant. Inside this thing they had made together— route. food. timing. movement. small choices. sometimes bigger ones. Authority. Responsibility. Panam looked at the leash lying between them. Then at Birgitta’s collar. Then at the bracelet she had chosen. “You trust me a lot.” “Yes.” No hesitation. Panam looked back at her. Birgitta smiled. “You already knew that.” “I knew.” “But?” Panam thought. “It feels different when you put it like that.” “Bad different?” “No.” Panam reached across the table. Took Birgitta’s hand. Ran her thumb once over the bracelet. “Mine?” Birgitta knew she was not asking about the bracelet. Her smile softened. “Yes.” Panam nodded. No triumphant grin. No joke. Just acceptance. “Okay.” Birgitta squeezed her hand. “My owner.” Panam looked at her. “My pet.” They stayed like that for a while. Then Panam released her hand and took another drink. Birgitta smiled into her coffee. “What?” Panam asked. Birgitta looked up. “You liked that.” Panam smiled. “Yes.” No hesitation. No embarrassment. No uncertainty. Birgitta laughed softly. “Good.” Panam’s eyebrow rose. Birgitta realized what she had done. Panam slowly leaned forward. “Did you just praise your owner?” Birgitta considered running. The leash made the thought particularly funny. “Maybe.” Panam pointed toward the chair beside her. “Here.” Birgitta picked up her coffee. Moved. Sat beside Panam. Panam put one arm around her. Birgitta leaned into her. “You liked that too.” Panam kissed the top of her head. “Yes, pet.” Birgitta smiled. This was becoming dangerously easy. --- ## CHAPTER 11 — MORNING Birgitta woke to the smell of coffee. That was the first thing. The second was that Panam was not in bed. The third was the collar. Birgitta felt it when she turned her head against the pillow. Soft leather. Warm from her skin. Still there. She smiled before she had properly opened her eyes. Morning light pushed through the apartment windows. Somewhere in the kitchen, a cabinet closed. Birgitta stretched. Then stayed where she was. That realization arrived slowly. Normally she would already be moving. Bathroom. Clothes. Coffee. Checking the time. Working out what came next. Instead she was lying naked under Panam’s blanket, listening to her owner make coffee. And apparently waiting. Birgitta laughed quietly. This was getting ridiculous. She pushed the blanket aside and started to sit up. From the kitchen: “Stay there.” Birgitta stopped. She stared toward the doorway. Panam was not even visible. Birgitta smiled. “Good morning to you too.” “Morning.” “Was that an order?” “Yes.” Birgitta settled back against the pillows. “Yes, owner.” Silence from the kitchen. Then: “Fuck.” Birgitta started laughing. “What?” “Nothing.” “Oh, no. You don't get to use that one.” Panam appeared in the doorway carrying two mugs. Hair messy. Barefoot. Wearing a shirt and very little else. Birgitta looked her over slowly. Panam noticed. “Behave.” Birgitta folded her hands innocently over the blanket. “Yes, owner.” Panam stopped. Birgitta smiled. “You really haven't developed immunity to that yet.” “I'm working on it.” “Please don't.” Panam walked over and handed her a mug. Birgitta accepted it. Exactly how she liked it. Again. Panam climbed back onto the bed beside her. Birgitta took a drink. “Thank you.” Panam looked at her collar. Then at her. “Sleep okay?” “Very.” “Hungry?” “Yes.” Panam nodded. “Breakfast after shower.” Birgitta opened her mouth. Stopped. Panam noticed. “What?” “I was about to ask what we're having.” “Eggs.” “Okay.” Panam waited. Birgitta waited. Then they both smiled. There had been no discussion. No options. No _what do you feel like?_ Just: Eggs. Okay. Birgitta took another drink. “I like this.” Panam leaned against the headboard. “Eggs?” Birgitta looked at her. “You know exactly what I mean.” “Maybe.” “You're becoming annoyingly smug.” “My apartment.” “My owner.” Panam took a drink to hide the smile. It did not work. Birgitta leaned against her shoulder. For several minutes neither moved. No hurry. No decision. Coffee first. Apparently Panam had decided that too. Eventually Panam put her empty mug down. “Shower.” Birgitta looked toward the bathroom. Then at Panam. “Together?” Panam considered. “No.” Birgitta blinked. “No?” “You first.” Interesting. Birgitta smiled. “Yes, owner.” She put her mug down and slid out of bed. Panam caught the leash from the bedside table. Birgitta stopped. Looked at it. Then at Panam. “You're taking me to the bathroom?” Panam clipped it to her collar. “Yes.” Birgitta laughed. “That is completely unnecessary.” “I know.” “Oh.” Panam stood. Birgitta’s smile widened. “You just want to.” “Yes.” No hesitation anymore. Birgitta loved that. Panam walked. Birgitta followed. Six meters. Bedroom to bathroom. Possibly the least necessary leash use in Night City history. Birgitta enjoyed every step. At the bathroom door Panam unclipped it. “Shower.” Birgitta turned. “Yes, owner.” Panam slapped her lightly on the ass as she went past. Birgitta yelped. “Hey!” “Shower.” Birgitta laughed and closed the door. --- When she came out, Panam had put clothes on. Birgitta had not. Panam looked at her. Then pointed toward the bedroom. “Clothes.” Birgitta looked down at herself. “Problem?” “Yes.” Birgitta smiled. “Distracting?” “Yes.” Again. No embarrassment. Birgitta’s smile turned wicked. “That sounds like a you problem.” “It becomes your problem if you stay naked.” “Oh, that sounds almost like a threat.” “Clothes.” Birgitta laughed and obeyed. No attempt to pretend otherwise. Birgitta walked past her. “Owner problems.” “Pet problems.” Birgitta laughed. She reached the bedroom. Then stopped. Her clothes from yesterday were there. So were several other things she had brought over. She reached toward one outfit. Panam appeared behind her. “No.” Birgitta turned. “What?” Panam walked past her and looked through the clothes. Birgitta stared. “You're choosing?” “Yes.” A warm little thrill moved through her. Panam selected a pair of fitted pants. Then a top. Then looked at Birgitta. “These.” Birgitta took them. No argument. No fashion critique. That was apparently more impressive than the obedience. Panam narrowed her eyes. “What?” “Nothing.” “Why are you looking at me like that?” “You didn't complain.” “I can complain if you'd prefer.” “No.” Birgitta smiled. “Then excellent choice, owner.” Panam looked suspicious. Birgitta dressed. Panam watched. Not constantly. Enough. When Birgitta finished, Panam came closer. Adjusted the top at one shoulder. Looked at the whole result. Then nodded. “Good.” Birgitta closed her eyes. Panam laughed. “Oh, come on.” “You know what that does.” “Apparently.” “You're weaponizing praise.” “Get used to it.” Birgitta opened her eyes. “That sounded threatening.” “It was.” Birgitta smiled. “I may be in love with this experiment.” Panam's expression softened. Not because of the word _love_. Because of _experiment_. Birgitta saw it. Panam touched the collar. “Still an experiment?” Birgitta looked at her. There was no anxiety in the question. Just curiosity. She thought about yesterday. Stay. Come. Walk. Sit. The bracelet. The coffee. This morning. Waiting in bed because Panam told her to. Being led six unnecessary meters on a leash because Panam wanted to. Having her clothes chosen. None of it felt experimental anymore. But they were only days into this. No reason to force a definition. Birgitta smiled. “I don't know.” Panam nodded. “Okay.” No pressure. Birgitta kissed her. “Breakfast.” Panam said. “Yes, owner.” --- Panam cooked. Birgitta tried to help. “Sit.” Birgitta stopped halfway toward the counter. She looked at the chair. Then at Panam. “I can help.” “I know.” “I am capable of preparing breakfast.” “I know.” “I can cut things.” “I have seen you use a knife.” Birgitta smiled. “Then—” “Sit.” Birgitta sat. Panam turned back to the stove. Birgitta stared at her. This was ridiculous. Panam was cooking eggs. Not negotiating a contract. Not choosing a route through hostile territory. Not controlling a booking. Eggs. And Birgitta had been told to sit down and let her owner handle breakfast. She rested her chin on one hand. Watched. Panam glanced over. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta smiled. “I like watching you take care of me.” Panam paused. Then turned back to the stove. “Good.” Birgitta inhaled slowly. “You did that deliberately.” “Maybe.” “You menace.” “Sit quietly.” Birgitta closed her mouth. Panam looked over. Birgitta raised both eyebrows. Panam laughed. “Okay, that was impressive.” Birgitta said nothing. Panam stared. Birgitta smiled. Still silent. “You can talk.” “Thank you.” Panam shook her head. Birgitta laughed. Breakfast arrived. Panam put a plate in front of her. Eggs. Toast. Something fried that was probably bad for both of them. Birgitta looked at it. Then at Panam. “You remembered I hate tomatoes.” Panam sat opposite her. “Yes.” “You remember everything.” “No.” “Everything about me.” Panam picked up her fork. “Enough.” Birgitta smiled. They ate. Halfway through, Birgitta reached for Panam's toast. Panam slapped her hand away. “Yours.” “I finished mine.” “Not my problem.” “Owner.” “No.” “I'm starving.” “You have eggs.” “I want toast.” Panam took a deliberate bite. Birgitta stared. “That was cruel.” Panam smiled. “Pet problems.” Birgitta laughed so hard she nearly dropped her fork. --- After breakfast, Birgitta automatically picked up both plates. Panam took them from her. Birgitta frowned. “I can—” “I know.” Panam carried them to the sink. Birgitta stayed sitting. This time Panam had not told her to. That was new. Birgitta noticed. Panam did too. Neither said anything. Panam cleaned the plates. Birgitta watched. Then Panam made more coffee. She put Birgitta's mug in front of her. Birgitta accepted it. Still no discussion. Still exactly right. Panam sat. For several minutes they simply drank coffee. Birgitta looked toward the window. “What are we doing today?” Panam answered without thinking. “Groceries first. Then I need to pick something up. Lunch somewhere. We'll figure out the rest.” Birgitta nodded. “Okay.” Silence. Panam looked at her. Birgitta looked back. “What?” “You didn't ask where.” “No.” “You didn't ask what we're buying.” “No.” “Or where lunch is.” Birgitta smiled. “No.” Panam stared for another moment. Then: “Huh.” Birgitta laughed. “What?” “I didn't ask you either.” There it was. They looked at each other. Neither had planned that. Panam had simply described the day. Birgitta had simply accepted it. No conscious transfer. No ritual. No _do you want me to decide?_ It had happened automatically. Birgitta wrapped both hands around her mug. “That's interesting.” “Yeah.” “Does it bother you?” Panam thought. “No.” “Me neither.” Panam leaned back. “Good.” Birgitta felt the familiar reaction. Panam saw it. Smiled. Birgitta pointed at her. “Stop enjoying that.” “No.” “Abuse of authority.” “No.” “Terrible owner.” Panam reached across the table. Hooked one finger through the ring on Birgitta's collar. Pulled gently. Birgitta leaned forward. Panam kissed her. When she released her, Birgitta remained close. “Still terrible?” “Yes.” “Want another owner?” Birgitta answered immediately. “No.” The humor disappeared for half a second. Panam looked at her. Birgitta smiled. “Mine.” Panam's eyebrows rose. Birgitta touched her collar. “You're mine too.” Panam considered correcting the logic. Then apparently decided against it. “Fair.” Birgitta kissed her once more. Panam stood. “Shoes.” Birgitta stayed seated. Panam looked at her. Birgitta smiled innocently. “Which ones?” Panam stared. Birgitta's smile widened. Oh. That was new. Panam walked toward the door. Looked at Birgitta's shoes. Then pointed. “Boots.” Birgitta stood. “Yes, owner.” She put them on. Panam clipped the leash to her collar. No discussion. No pause. No moment where either of them consciously decided the dynamic had begun again. Because it had never stopped. Panam opened the apartment door. “Come on, pet.” Birgitta followed her into the hall. Halfway to the elevator, she realized something. She had not made a single meaningful decision all morning. And she had never once felt as if she couldn't. That was the difference. That was everything. The elevator arrived. Panam stepped inside. Birgitta followed. The doors closed. Panam pressed the button. Birgitta did not even look to see which floor. She already knew where she was going. With her owner. --- ## CHAPTER 12 — LESS ASKING By the third day, Panam stopped asking whether Birgitta wanted coffee. She simply brought it. By the fourth, she stopped asking where Birgitta wanted to eat. She chose. By the fifth, Birgitta realized she had stopped checking the time. That one surprised her. She was sitting in the passenger seat of Panam's truck, one boot resting against the lower edge of the dash, watching Night City slide past the window. Panam drove. Birgitta had no idea where they were going. Not approximately. Not secretly. Not even enough to make an educated guess. She had asked exactly one question when they left the apartment. “Do I need a jacket?” Panam had looked outside. “No.” That had been enough. Birgitta smiled. Panam noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta turned toward her. “I don't know where we're going.” Panam glanced over. “No.” “I've been in this truck for twenty minutes.” “Yes.” “You haven't told me.” “No.” “I haven't asked.” Panam smiled. Birgitta pointed. “That.” “What?” “That smug little fucking smile.” “I don't have a smug smile.” “You absolutely do.” Panam looked back at the road. Birgitta settled deeper into the seat. “So?” “So what?” “Where are we going?” Panam shook her head. “No.” Birgitta laughed. “You're not telling me?” “No.” “Why?” “Because now you're asking just because you noticed you hadn't.” Birgitta stared. Panam was right. That was irritating. “I hate when you're clever.” “No, you don't.” Birgitta considered. “No.” Panam smiled again. Birgitta looked out the window. The leash was coiled loosely around Panam's free hand. They had discovered that arrangement yesterday. Birgitta could sit comfortably. Panam could drive normally. And every now and then Birgitta would feel the slightest movement through the leash when Panam shifted her hand. Pointless. Completely unnecessary. Birgitta loved it. They drove another ten minutes. Panam turned off the main road. Birgitta recognized the area. A market district. Panam parked. Killed the engine. “Out.” Birgitta opened the door. No question. No pause. She climbed down. Panam met her around the front of the truck and took the leash properly. “Come on.” Birgitta followed. --- The market was busy. Not dangerously crowded. Just Night City crowded. People moving in every direction. Music from three different stalls fighting for dominance. Food. Clothes. Parts. Cheap chrome. Expensive junk. Cheap junk pretending to be expensive chrome. Birgitta immediately saw six things she wanted to investigate. Panam saw her see them. “No.” Birgitta looked up. “I haven't done anything.” “I know that look.” “What look?” “The one before you disappear sideways.” “I do not disappear sideways.” Panam stopped walking. Birgitta stopped with her. Panam stared. Birgitta smiled. “Frequently.” “Stay with me.” “Yes, owner.” They continued. Ten meters later Birgitta spotted shoes. Very good shoes. She slowed. The leash tightened slightly. Birgitta looked at Panam. Panam did not even look toward the display. “No.” “But—” “No.” “They're—” “Birgitta.” She sighed. “Yes, owner.” They walked past. Birgitta looked over her shoulder. Panam tugged the leash. “Forward.” “This is cruelty.” “Forward.” “Yes, owner.” A woman passing them laughed. Birgitta smiled at her. The woman looked at the collar. Then the leash. Then Panam. Her expression became understanding. Panam noticed. Birgitta noticed Panam noticing. Neither said anything. Interesting. Three days ago Panam had been conscious of every stranger who saw them. Now she barely cared. Birgitta liked that too. They reached a grocery stall. Panam started selecting things. Birgitta reached for a package. Panam looked. “No.” Birgitta froze with her hand halfway there. “What?” “Wrong one.” “They're identical.” “They're not.” Birgitta compared them. They looked identical. Panam reached past her and picked another package. “This.” Birgitta inspected it. “What is the difference?” “Better.” “That is not information.” Panam put it in the basket. “Owner decision.” Birgitta stared. Panam kept shopping. Birgitta followed. “You cannot use that to win arguments.” “I just did.” “That is deeply unethical.” “Do you want the other one?” Birgitta looked at it. Then at Panam's choice. “No.” “Then shut up.” Birgitta grinned. “Yes, owner.” --- They had lunch somewhere Birgitta would not have chosen. That was becoming part of the pleasure. Panam chose a tiny place tucked beneath an elevated road. Bad exterior. Plastic tables. Excellent food. Birgitta looked at her plate. Then at Panam. “You knew about this.” “Yes.” “You've been hiding it.” “I haven't been hiding anything.” “You never brought me here.” Panam took a bite. “You never asked.” Birgitta pointed her fork. “You're becoming insufferable.” “Eat.” Birgitta ate. It was excellent. Panam smiled. Birgitta narrowed her eyes. “You knew.” “Yes.” “You were waiting.” “Yes.” “For me to admit it's good.” “Yes.” Birgitta took another bite. “Bitch.” “My pet.” Birgitta went quiet. Panam laughed. A man at the next table glanced over. Birgitta caught his eye. He smiled. Birgitta smiled back automatically. Bright. Open. Birgitta. The man's attention lingered. Panam noticed. Birgitta noticed Panam noticing. Interesting again. The man said: “Nice collar.” Birgitta touched it. “Thank you.” His eyes moved toward Panam. “Yours?” Birgitta smiled. “Her choice.” The man looked at Panam. Panam met his gaze. Then: “Mine.” No hostility. No challenge. Just fact. The man raised both hands slightly. “Lucky woman.” Birgitta smiled. “Very.” He laughed and returned to his food. Panam looked at Birgitta. Birgitta continued eating. “What?” “Nothing.” Birgitta looked up. “You liked that.” Panam took a drink. “Eat.” Birgitta laughed. “Yes, owner.” --- By afternoon, Birgitta began noticing the missing questions. Not what Panam said. What she no longer said. _Do you want to come?_ Gone. “Come on.” _Would you mind waiting here?_ Gone. “Wait.” _Do you want to sit down?_ Gone. “Sit.” _Should we head home?_ Gone. “We're going home.” None of it felt abrupt anymore. Panam's voice had simply become shorter. Cleaner. She decided. Birgitta followed. When Birgitta disagreed, she said so. Twice Panam changed her decision immediately. Once she didn't. That was interesting too. They were leaving a shop when Birgitta spotted a cosmetics counter. “Wait.” Panam stopped. Birgitta pointed. “I need something.” Panam looked. “You have enough.” “No. Actually need.” Panam studied her for a second. Then nodded. “Go.” Birgitta walked to the counter. Bought what she needed. Returned. Panam had waited. No argument. No demand for explanation. Need mattered. Want was negotiable. Birgitta filed that away. Later she wanted dessert. Panam said no. Birgitta protested. Panam still said no. Birgitta did not get dessert. She complained for seven consecutive minutes. Panam endured it heroically. At minute eight: “Quiet.” Birgitta stopped talking. Panam looked over. Birgitta looked back. Panam's mouth twitched. Birgitta narrowed her eyes. Still silent. Panam lasted perhaps five seconds. “You can talk.” “You're terrible.” “I know.” “I wanted cake.” “I know.” “I still want cake.” “I know.” “Will there be cake later?” “No.” Birgitta sighed. “Cruel owner.” “Difficult pet.” They kept walking. Twenty minutes later Panam bought her ice cream. Birgitta stared at it. Panam handed it over. “What?” “You said no dessert.” “I said no cake.” Birgitta took the ice cream. “You planned this.” “No.” “You absolutely planned this.” “Eat before it melts.” Birgitta did. Happily. --- At home, Panam unclipped the leash. Birgitta went three steps into the apartment. Then stopped. Panam walked past her. Birgitta remained standing. Panam put the bags on the counter. Turned. Saw her. “What are you doing?” Birgitta blinked. “I don't know.” Panam looked at her. Birgitta looked down at herself. Then back. “You didn't tell me what next.” Silence. Neither laughed. That was different. Birgitta thought about it. Then started laughing anyway. “Oh, fuck.” Panam leaned against the counter. “What?” “I waited.” “Yes.” “You didn't tell me to.” “No.” “I just…” Birgitta gestured helplessly. “Waited.” Panam watched her carefully. “Problem?” Birgitta checked. Actually checked. “No.” “Sure?” “Yes.” Panam nodded. “Come here.” Birgitta went to her. Panam took her by the waist, then tucked one damp strand of copper-grey hair behind her ear before pulling her closer. The gesture was so ordinary Birgitta almost missed how much she liked it. Birgitta settled naturally against her. “You're doing that more.” “What?” “Waiting for me.” Birgitta nodded. “I know.” “Do you want me to stop it?” “No.” Immediate. Panam's hand moved slowly along her back. “Then I won't.” Birgitta smiled. There was the responsibility again. No drama. No fear. Panam noticed something. Checked once. Accepted the answer. Moved forward. Birgitta rested her forehead against Panam's shoulder. “I'm starting to orient around you.” Panam was quiet. Birgitta continued. “I notice where you are.” “Okay.” “I wait to see which direction you go.” “Okay.” “I don't check the time as much.” Panam's hand stopped. “That one bother you?” “No.” “You sure?” Birgitta smiled against her. “Yes.” Panam resumed the slow movement. “Why not?” “Because you check.” Panam went still. There. Birgitta lifted her head. “You know what time it is.” “Yes.” “You know where we're going.” “Yes.” “You know when we need to leave.” “Yes.” “You remember whether I've eaten.” Panam's expression softened. “Yes.” “You remember my coffee.” “Yes.” “You remember what I need.” “I try.” Birgitta smiled. “So I don't have to hold all of it.” Panam looked at her for a long moment. Then touched the collar. “Owner responsibility.” Birgitta's smile widened. “Yes.” Panam kissed her forehead. “Then stop worrying about the time.” Birgitta laughed softly. “Yes, owner.” --- Day four became day five almost without a boundary between them. Wake. Coffee. Panam chooses breakfast. Birgitta showers. Panam chooses between two outfits. Birgitta argues about shoes. Panam wins. Leash clipped. Out. The rhythm settled. At a crossing, Birgitta stopped when Panam stopped. At a store, she waited while Panam paid. At lunch, she did not reach for the menu until Panam handed it to her. Sometimes Panam handed it over. Sometimes she ordered. Birgitta stopped trying to predict which. That was part of it too. Authority was not a script. Panam did not control everything simply because she could. She chose when to choose. Birgitta learned when to wait. And Panam learned Birgitta. Not an obedient doll. Not passive. Certainly not quiet. Birgitta still flirted with bartenders. Talked to strangers. Complained. Negotiated. Made jokes. Changed conversations. Stopped to admire things. Dragged Panam verbally through every ridiculous thought that entered her head. She remained entirely herself. She simply moved through the day with an invisible line connecting her decisions to Panam. Sometimes that line was visible leather. Sometimes it was one word. Sometimes just a look. On the fifth afternoon, Panam stood outside the apartment building and checked a message. Birgitta waited beside her. A delivery truck blocked part of the sidewalk. People moved around them. Birgitta watched Panam read. Then she realized something. She had no idea what they were doing next. And she did not care. Panam finished. Pocketed the shard. “Come on.” Birgitta followed. No question. They reached the truck. Panam opened the passenger door. Birgitta climbed in. Panam closed it. Walked around. Got behind the wheel. Started the engine. Birgitta looked over. Panam looked back. “What?” Birgitta smiled. “Nothing.” Panam narrowed her eyes. Birgitta leaned across the console and kissed her. Panam kissed back. When they separated: “You know where we're going?” Birgitta asked. “Yes.” “Do I?” “No.” Birgitta settled into the seat. “Good.” Panam laughed. Then drove. Birgitta watched Night City move past the window. No clock. No route. No destination. No anxiety. Just the quiet certainty that Panam knew. And that, for now, was enough. --- ## CHAPTER 13 — BIRGITTA DOES NOT DISAPPEAR The strange thing about several days together was how quickly they stopped feeling like several days together. One night was a date. Two nights could still feel like an extension of one. A weekend was something you planned. By the fifth day, there was laundry. Birgitta discovered this when she walked into Panam's bedroom and found one of her shirts folded on the bed. She stopped. Looked at it. Then at Panam, who was standing beside the closet. “What?” Birgitta pointed. “My shirt.” “Yes.” “You folded it.” “Yes.” “Why?” Panam stared at her. “Because it was clean.” Birgitta considered this suspiciously. “And you just happened to wash it?” “It was in the laundry.” “My laundry.” “In my apartment.” “Still mine.” Panam pointed toward the shirt. “Put it away.” Birgitta picked it up. Opened the closet. Stopped again. There was space. Not much. But unmistakably space. A section had been cleared between Panam's clothes. Birgitta slowly looked over her shoulder. Panam suddenly found the opposite wall fascinating. “You made space.” “You have clothes here.” “I noticed.” “They were everywhere.” “They were artistically distributed.” “They were on my chair.” “That was one of the artistic locations.” “Put the shirt away.” Birgitta smiled. “Yes, owner.” She hung it. Then noticed another shirt already there. And a jacket. Birgitta looked down. Her boots were beside Panam's. She had not put them there either. She looked back at Panam. Panam was still refusing to acknowledge that any of this meant anything. That was adorable. Birgitta decided not to tell her. Yet. --- The first long stretch with Panam had been different. A few weeks earlier, Birgitta had stayed for the courier run. Seven days then, too. Long drives. Deliveries. Motels. Fuel stops. Cheap breakfasts. Hours of road stretching between one place and the next. It had been ordinary in a completely different way. And somewhere during that week, Birgitta had begun noticing Panam. Noticing how naturally she decided things. _We're leaving at six._ _Eat now._ _Take the left bag._ _Wait here._ _Get in._ Nothing deliberate. Nothing negotiated. No collar. No leash. No names for what they were doing. Panam had simply been Panam. And Birgitta had liked it. More than liked it. She had found herself relaxing whenever Panam took a decision out of her hands. That had been the seed. This week was different because now they both knew it was there. Now Panam knew Birgitta wanted more. Now Birgitta knew Panam enjoyed giving it. Now there was a collar around Birgitta's neck. A leash when Panam wanted one. A word for each of them. Owner. Pet. The courier week had shown Birgitta the possibility. This week was teaching them what to do with it. And unlike the courier run, there was no delivery schedule organizing their days. No motel checkout forcing a morning into motion. No cargo waiting in the truck. There was simply Panam. And Birgitta. Morning becoming afternoon becoming evening. Again. And again. And again. --- The toothbrush appeared on day three. Birgitta only properly noticed it on day five. She stood in Panam's bathroom after showering, hair damp, towel wrapped around herself, and stared at the sink. Two toothbrushes. She picked up the unfamiliar one. “Panam?” “What?” “When did this happen?” Panam appeared in the doorway. Birgitta held it up. “That?” “Yes, that.” “Day three.” “You bought me a toothbrush.” “You needed one.” “You didn't tell me.” Panam shrugged. “You needed one.” Birgitta stared at her. There it was again. Owner responsibility. Not theatrical. Not sexy. Not even particularly interesting from the outside. Birgitta needed something. Panam noticed. Panam handled it. Done. Birgitta smiled. Panam reached past her, nudged the towel more securely around her shoulder, and left her hand there for a second as though Birgitta standing half-dressed in her bathroom had already become part of the furniture of the morning. “You know, normal people might find this slightly alarming.” “What?” “You're gradually installing me in your apartment.” Panam snorted. “You've been here almost every night.” “Exactly.” “You have clothes here.” “Yes.” “Shoes.” “Yes.” “Half your shit is in my bathroom.” Birgitta looked around. “That seems exaggerated.” Panam pointed. Birgitta followed the finger. Three bottles. Two small containers. Cosmetics. A brush. Something Birgitta had forgotten buying. “All right. A reasonable fraction of my shit.” “You need somewhere to put it.” Birgitta tilted her head. “You're making a disturbingly convincing case for giving me a drawer.” Panam's expression changed. Only slightly. Birgitta saw it. “Oh.” “No.” “Oh, you thought about it.” “No.” “You absolutely thought about it.” “Get dressed.” Birgitta grinned. “Is that an order?” “Yes.” “Excellent.” She kissed Panam on the way past. “Yes, owner.” --- The laundry happened after lunch. That was when the whole thing became absurd. Not the collar. Not the leash. Not _stay._ Laundry. Panam separated clothes. Birgitta watched from the kitchen. “You're doing that wrong.” Panam stopped. Slowly. “Excuse me?” “That shouldn't go with those.” Panam looked at the clothes. Then at Birgitta. “I have been washing my own clothes for years.” “And yet somehow incorrectly.” Panam pointed toward a chair. “Sit.” Birgitta laughed. “You cannot solve laundry disagreements with authority.” “Sit.” Birgitta sat. Panam continued sorting. Birgitta watched. “You're still doing it wrong.” “Quiet.” Birgitta closed her mouth. Panam looked over. Birgitta smiled sweetly. Panam turned back. Birgitta waited exactly six seconds. “You're going to ruin that.” Panam spun around. “I said quiet.” Birgitta pointed urgently. “That is expensive.” Panam looked at the garment. Then at Birgitta. Then checked the label. Silence. Birgitta waited. Panam removed it from the pile. Birgitta's smile became unbearable. Panam narrowed her eyes. “Not one fucking word.” Birgitta mimed locking her lips. Panam started the machine. Turned around. Birgitta remained obediently silent. Smiling. Panam lasted perhaps ten seconds. “You can talk.” “I was right.” “Fuck you.” Birgitta laughed so hard she nearly fell off the chair. Panam caught her before she did. Which only made it worse. --- Later they went out. Panam clipped the leash on before opening the apartment door. Birgitta no longer watched the mechanism. The small click had become familiar. Panam checked the hallway. “Come.” Birgitta followed. They took the truck. Panam chose where. Birgitta did not ask. They stopped for coffee. Panam ordered hers correctly without checking. Birgitta flirted shamelessly with the woman behind the counter while Panam paid. The woman flirted back. Panam handed Birgitta her coffee. “Done?” Birgitta accepted it. “For now.” “Come on.” “Yes, owner.” The woman behind the counter looked from Birgitta to the collar, then to the leash in Panam's hand. Her eyebrows rose. Birgitta gave her a brilliant smile. Panam tugged once. Birgitta went. Outside: “You enjoyed that.” Birgitta took a drink. “She was pretty.” “I noticed.” “Jealous?” “No.” “Not even slightly?” “No.” Birgitta studied her. Panam kept walking. Then: “Stay with me.” Birgitta smiled. There it was. Not jealousy. Something better. She moved closer until her shoulder brushed Panam's arm. “Yes, owner.” Panam's mouth twitched. --- By evening, Birgitta realized she had stopped thinking in arrivals and departures. That was new. During the courier run there had always been a next destination. Even sleeping beside Panam had belonged to the route. This was different. They came back to the same apartment. Birgitta took off the boots Panam had chosen that morning and put them beside Panam's. She knew where the glasses were. She knew which cupboard stuck. She knew the shower took slightly too long to warm up. She knew Panam kept the good coffee behind the mediocre coffee for reasons Birgitta still considered irrational. Panam knew which side of the bed Birgitta preferred. How much sugar she wanted. Which shirt she would complain about but wear anyway. Which food she would steal from Panam's plate after insisting she did not want any. Ordinary knowledge. Accumulating quietly. Birgitta stood in the kitchen while Panam unpacked groceries. She reached for a bag. “Sit.” Birgitta stopped. “You don't need help?” “No.” “I can help.” “I know.” Birgitta looked at the chair. Then at Panam. Panam raised an eyebrow. Birgitta sat. “Yes, owner.” Panam continued. Birgitta watched her put things away. At first she had thought obedience would feel like doing something. A deliberate act. A choice she would feel herself making every time. Sometimes it still did. _Stay._ _Come._ _Sit._ Those words could still send a small bright thrill through her. But this was becoming something else. Birgitta did not sit because she couldn't help. She sat because Panam had decided she didn't need to. That difference mattered. Panam finished. Opened the refrigerator. Looked inside. Closed it. “Hungry?” Birgitta opened her mouth. Panam caught herself. “No.” Birgitta laughed. Panam pointed at her. “Don't.” “You asked.” “I know.” “You're slipping.” “I said don't.” Birgitta leaned back in the chair, delighted. Panam thought. Then: “We're eating in an hour.” Birgitta smiled. “Better.” Panam looked at her. “You are enjoying training me far too much.” Birgitta's eyebrows rose. “Training you?” Panam froze. Birgitta slowly stood. Panam immediately pointed back at the chair. “Sit.” Birgitta sat. Both stared at each other. Then Birgitta started laughing. Panam tried not to. Failed. “Oh, fuck you.” “Apparently I'm very good at this.” “You're impossible.” “Your pet.” Panam's expression softened. “My pet.” That still worked. Every single time. --- They ate an hour later. Panam cooked. Birgitta was allowed to help this time. Allowed, she noticed. The word should have bothered her. It didn't. She chopped vegetables. Panam corrected the size. Birgitta informed her she was a tyrant. Panam told her to keep chopping. Birgitta obeyed while continuing to complain. Nothing about the dynamic required silence. Nothing required Birgitta to become smaller. If anything, she felt brighter inside it. Safer to push. Safer to tease. Safer to be ridiculous. Because the boundaries were becoming solid enough to lean against. At dinner Birgitta stole food from Panam's plate. Panam moved the plate away. Birgitta reached again. Panam caught her wrist. “No.” Birgitta looked at her. Then at the food. Then back. “Owner.” “No.” “Cruel.” “You have the same thing.” “Yours tastes better.” “It is literally from the same pan.” Birgitta considered. “Still.” Panam released her wrist. Birgitta immediately tried again. Panam caught her again. This time both started laughing. --- The movie was terrible. Panam had chosen it. Therefore, according to Birgitta, the failure was entirely Panam's responsibility. “Owner responsibility,” she said solemnly. Panam threw a cushion at her. Birgitta caught it. “That is not responsible ownership.” “Quiet.” Birgitta closed her mouth. Ten seconds. “This movie is still terrible.” Panam laughed. “You're hopeless.” “You knew that before you claimed me.” The words landed differently. Not badly. Just enough that neither of them immediately made another joke. Panam looked at her. Birgitta held the look. Claimed. Bounded. Chosen. Consensual. The word belonged here now. Panam reached out. “Come here.” Birgitta moved across the couch. Panam wrapped an arm around her. Birgitta settled against her. The movie continued being terrible. Neither cared. Somewhere near the middle, Birgitta realized Panam's fingers were resting against her collar. Not pulling. Not checking. Just there. Familiar. Birgitta closed her eyes. --- She woke later with her head in Panam's lap. The screen was dark. The apartment quiet. Panam was looking at something on her shard. Birgitta blinked. “How long?” “Twenty minutes.” “You let me sleep through the ending?” “You hated the movie.” “That isn't the point.” “What is the point?” “I need to know how bad the ending was.” “Very.” Birgitta nodded. “Good.” Panam put the shard aside. “Bed.” Birgitta remained exactly where she was. Panam looked down. “Birgitta.” “I am comfortable.” “Bed.” “No.” Panam's eyebrows rose. Birgitta smiled. There was no tension in it. No uncertainty. Just play. Panam touched the collar. “Pet.” Birgitta sighed theatrically. “Cheating.” “Bed.” Birgitta sat up. “Yes, owner.” She stood. Panam stood with her. Birgitta took two steps toward the bedroom, then noticed Panam had not followed. She stopped. Turned. Panam was watching her. “What?” Panam smiled. “Nothing.” “That's my line.” “I know.” Birgitta waited. Panam walked toward her. Birgitta did not move until Panam reached her. Then they continued together. --- Later, Birgitta lay beside Panam in the dark. Not asleep. Not particularly interested in becoming asleep. Panam's arm rested across her waist. Birgitta traced one finger along it. “Panam?” “Mm?” “The courier week.” “What about it?” “I thought that was why this felt familiar.” Panam shifted slightly. “And?” “It isn't.” Panam waited. Birgitta searched for the thought. “That was a week with you.” “Yeah.” “This is different.” “How?” Birgitta smiled into the darkness. “That week kept moving.” Panam said nothing. “We had cargo. Places to be. Motels. Deliveries. Every morning we left somewhere.” “True.” “This week…” Birgitta looked around the dark bedroom. “We keep coming back here.” Panam's arm tightened slightly. Birgitta continued. “My clothes are in your closet.” “Some of them.” “My boots are by your door.” “Yes.” “I have a toothbrush.” “You needed one.” Birgitta laughed softly. “Yes. Apparently I did.” Silence. Then: “I don't feel like I'm visiting anymore.” Panam was very still. Birgitta turned toward her. The room was dark enough that she could barely see Panam's face. “That okay?” Panam answered immediately. “Yes.” Birgitta smiled. “Good.” Panam touched her cheek. “You?” “Yes.” Immediate too. That seemed important. Birgitta moved closer. Panam kissed her. Soft. Unhurried. When it ended, Birgitta remained close enough that their foreheads touched. “I'm still going to complain about your laundry.” “I know.” “And your movies.” “I know.” “And your coffee storage system is insane.” “Go to sleep.” Birgitta smiled. “Yes, owner.” She settled against Panam. Panam's hand found the collar once more. And Birgitta understood what had changed. She had spent days with Panam before. She had slept beside her before. Driven with her. Eaten with her. Woken beside her. But those days had been a journey. This was becoming a rhythm. There had been no arrival today. There would be no departure tonight. Morning would simply happen here. Birgitta did not disappear. Not tonight. Not tomorrow morning. For now, she was exactly where she wanted to be. With her owner. --- ## CHAPTER 14 — APARTMENT Birgitta did not fall asleep. She tried. For perhaps three minutes. Then Panam's hand moved against her waist. Not much. Just enough. Birgitta opened her eyes. The room was dark. Panam was still behind her. Her breathing had changed. Birgitta smiled. “You're awake.” “So are you.” “I was sleeping.” “No, you weren't.” “You can't prove that.” Panam's fingers moved again. Slowly. Birgitta's smile widened. “That is cheating.” “What is?” “That.” “My hand?” “Yes.” “It's on your waist.” “I know where it is.” “Then what's the problem?” Birgitta rolled onto her back. Panam let her. Their eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness. “No problem.” Panam looked at her. Birgitta waited. That was becoming familiar too. Not passive. Not uncertain. Waiting because she wanted to know what Panam would choose. Panam touched her cheek. Then the collar. Birgitta's breath caught slightly. Panam noticed. Of course she noticed. “You like that.” “You know I do.” “I know.” There was that confidence again. Less asking. Not less attention. Birgitta understood the difference now. Panam leaned closer. Stopped just short of kissing her. Birgitta could have closed the distance. She didn't. Panam smiled. “Waiting?” “Yes.” “For?” Birgitta looked directly into her eyes. “My owner.” Something changed in Panam's expression. Not dramatically. Panam did very little dramatically when something actually mattered. Her fingers curled gently around the collar. “Come here.” Birgitta did. The kiss was immediate. Not tentative. Not the soft kiss from minutes earlier. Birgitta wrapped her arms around Panam and pulled herself closer, and Panam answered by taking control of the movement almost at once. A hand at Birgitta's waist. A shift. A turn. Birgitta found herself beneath her. She laughed softly against Panam's mouth. Panam pulled back. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta smiled up at her. “I like when you do that.” “What?” “Decide where I am.” Panam held her gaze. Then moved Birgitta again. Deliberately this time. Not because she needed to. Because Birgitta had told her she liked it. Birgitta went willingly. Her smile disappeared into something warmer. Panam saw that too. “Good?” “Yes.” Panam's hand returned to the collar. “Good.” That one word landed harder than it had any right to. Birgitta closed her eyes for a moment. “Oh.” Panam stopped. Not retreating. Checking. Birgitta opened her eyes again. “Don't you dare stop.” Panam smiled. “Bossy for a pet.” “Then manage me.” That got a low laugh out of Panam. There she was. Birgitta. Still bright. Still demanding. Still perfectly capable of saying exactly what she wanted. Panam leaned down. “Yes, pet.” Birgitta shivered. “Fuck.” Panam laughed softly. “Still works.” “You know it does.” “I know.” --- There was no transformation. That was what Birgitta noticed. No moment when Panam became someone else. No performance. No invented voice. No theatrical authority. Panam was simply Panam with fewer reasons to restrain the part of herself Birgitta had already discovered. Panam guided Birgitta onto her back and moved with her instead of simply arriving at the next moment. Birgitta opened for the new position willingly, one hand settling against Panam as their eyes met. A quiet instruction. Birgitta followed it. A pause when Panam wanted to look at her. Birgitta stayed exactly where she had been put. And every time, Panam watched. Not merely whether Birgitta obeyed. How. Her breathing. Her expression. The little involuntary smile whenever an instruction surprised her. The way praise made her suddenly quieter. The way a firmer tone did not make her smaller. It made her brighter. At one point Birgitta started to move before Panam had finished deciding. Panam's hand stopped her. “Wait.” Birgitta froze. Immediately. Her first reaction was a frustrated little laugh that died halfway out when she saw Panam’s expression. Their eyes met. There. The same word from the market. The same authority. Entirely different heat. Panam took her time. Birgitta remained still. Not because she had to. Because Panam had told her to. Because she trusted what came next. Because the waiting itself had become part of what she wanted. Panam finally nodded. “Now.” Birgitta moved. The first rush of pleasure caught her harder than she expected. Her breath broke. Panam's expression changed immediately. Satisfaction. Not triumph. Recognition. She had done that. Birgitta saw her realize it. “Oh, you liked that,” Birgitta whispered. Panam laughed. “You're talking too much.” “You like that too.” “Sometimes.” “Liar.” “Want me to prove it?” Birgitta’s eyes brightened. Panam kissed her before she could answer. That was answer enough. It also solved the argument. For a while. --- Later, Birgitta was laughing again. She had forgotten what started it. Possibly Panam. Probably herself. Panam told her to stay still. Birgitta informed her that this was unreasonable. Panam repeated herself. Birgitta obeyed. Then complained about obeying. Panam called her impossible. Birgitta reminded her whose pet she was. That ended with Panam laughing into her shoulder. Nothing about the authority removed the affection. Nothing about the affection weakened the authority. That surprised both of them. They could move from teasing to command and back without breaking anything. Panam could tell Birgitta exactly what she wanted. Birgitta could surrender a decision without surrendering herself. And when Birgitta wanted something different, she said so. Panam adjusted. No ceremony. No negotiation summit. No collapse of the dynamic. Just information. Trust. Then forward again. At one point Panam murmured: “Look at me.” Birgitta did. That was all. But something about it stripped the humor away. For several seconds there was only Panam above her and Birgitta looking exactly where she had been told. Panam touched her face. “My pet.” Birgitta swallowed. “My owner.” Panam kissed her. And the room became very quiet. --- Afterward, neither moved. That mattered. Birgitta lay against Panam, warm and loose, one leg tangled with hers. Panam's hand rested at the small of her back. The collar remained around Birgitta's neck. Neither had considered removing it. Birgitta listened to Panam breathe. Slowly returning to normal. Her own breathing followed. For once she had nothing clever to say. Panam noticed that too. “You alive?” Birgitta considered. “Probably.” “Good.” Silence again. Birgitta smiled. “That was almost romantic.” “Shut up.” “There she is.” Panam's hand moved lazily along her back. Birgitta closed her eyes. The touch had no purpose left except that Panam liked touching her and Birgitta liked being touched. That simplicity felt almost more intimate than everything before it. Minutes passed. Maybe more. No rush to clean up the moment. No immediate joke needed to make it smaller. No need to decide what it meant. Eventually Birgitta spoke. “You know what I liked most?” Panam sighed. “I feel like this answer is going to cause trouble.” “It might.” “What?” Birgitta opened her eyes. “You didn't become someone else.” Panam frowned. “What does that mean?” “You didn't perform.” “I don't know how.” “Exactly.” Birgitta shifted enough to look at her. “You were just you.” “Bossy?” “Very.” “Apparently that's a compliment now.” “From me? Absolutely.” Panam smiled. Birgitta touched her chest lightly. “But that's what I mean. Out there, in the apartment, in bed…” She searched for the words. “It wasn't three different things.” Panam understood before Birgitta finished. “The same thing.” “Yes.” Birgitta rested her head down again. “Same owner.” Panam's fingers touched the collar. “Same pet.” “Yes.” Silence. Then Birgitta laughed softly. “Oh.” Panam looked down. “What?” Birgitta's expression had changed. Panam knew that expression already. An idea. And apparently not a safe one. “No.” Birgitta blinked. “I haven't said anything.” “I know that look.” “You absolutely do not.” “I do.” Birgitta pushed herself up slightly. Panam stared at her. Birgitta's smile grew. “Oh, this could be interesting.” “No.” “You still don't know what it is.” “I know you.” “That is deeply unfair.” Panam narrowed her eyes. “What?” Birgitta almost told her. Then stopped. Not because she was unsure. Because suddenly she wanted to think about it properly. She lowered herself again. “Tomorrow.” Panam groaned. “Fuck.” Birgitta kissed her shoulder. “Sleep.” “That's my line.” “I'm borrowing it.” “No.” Birgitta smiled. Then: “Yes, owner.” Panam went quiet. Birgitta laughed softly. “Works every time.” “You are such a fucking menace.” Birgitta settled comfortably against her. “Your menace.” Panam wrapped both arms around her. Unfortunately, that was true. --- Birgitta stayed awake for several minutes after Panam's breathing finally deepened. Her idea refused to leave. It was not about sex. Not really. It was about continuity. That was the word. Continuity. The collar worked at breakfast. The leash worked in the market. _Stay_ worked beside a vendor. _Sit_ worked in the kitchen. _Wait_ worked in bed. Panam's authority did not belong to one place. So why should it stop at the edge of Birgitta's work? Birgitta smiled in the dark. There it was. Tomorrow she was going to work. And for the first time, she didn't want Panam simply to come with her. She wanted her owner there. Birgitta closed her eyes. That thought felt dangerously good. Beside her, Panam slept peacefully. Completely unaware that her pet had just found the next terrible idea. For once, Birgitta decided to let her enjoy the remaining few hours of innocence. ---- ## CHAPTER 15 — BIRGITTA'S IDEA Panam knew Birgitta was awake before she opened her eyes. There was a particular kind of silence Birgitta produced when she was thinking too loudly. Panam kept her eyes closed. “Whatever it is, no.” Nothing. That was worse. Panam opened one eye. Birgitta was lying beside her, head propped on one hand, smiling. “No.” “I haven't said anything.” “You're smiling.” “I smile all the time.” “Not like that.” “What does this smile mean?” “Trouble.” Birgitta looked delighted. Panam closed her eye again. “No.” “Owner.” “No.” “You don't know what I'm asking.” “I know you.” “That is becoming an extremely inconvenient argument.” “Good.” Birgitta moved closer. Panam felt a kiss against her shoulder. Then another. “Manipulation.” “Affection.” “Manipulation.” “Can be both.” Panam opened her eyes. Birgitta smiled brightly. “Good morning.” Panam stared at her. “What?” “I want to work tonight.” Panam blinked. That had not been what she expected. “Okay.” Birgitta waited. Panam frowned. “What?” “That's it?” “You said you want to work.” “Yes.” “So work.” Birgitta's smile changed. Panam saw it. Immediately. “Oh, fuck.” “What?” “This isn't about working.” “It is.” “Birgitta.” “I want to work tonight.” Panam sat up. Birgitta remained where she was. “And?” Birgitta touched her collar. There. Panam looked at the collar. Then at Birgitta. “You want to wear that?” “Yes.” “At work.” “Yes.” Panam considered. Birgitta waited. “And the leash?” “Yes.” Panam's eyebrows rose. Birgitta's smile returned. “Now we're getting there.” Panam stared at her. “You want me there.” “Yes.” “I've been there before.” “Not like this.” Silence. Panam understood. Not completely. Enough. “You want your owner there.” Birgitta's expression softened. “Yes.” --- Coffee happened before the rest of the conversation. Panam insisted. Birgitta accepted this as evidence of excellent ownership. Panam told her to shut up. Birgitta sat at the kitchen table in one of Panam's shirts while Panam made breakfast. The collar remained around her neck. No leash. Not yet. Panam put coffee in front of her. Birgitta reached for it. Panam kept one hand on the mug. Birgitta looked up. “Explain.” Birgitta released the mug. Panam let go. Birgitta took a drink. Then: “I want to see if it works there too.” “At Lizzie's.” “Yes.” “While you're working.” “Yes.” Panam leaned against the counter. Birgitta watched her. Panam was taking this seriously. Of course she was. That was one of the reasons Birgitta wanted it. “What exactly do you want me to do?” Birgitta smiled. “I don't know.” Panam frowned. “That's useful.” “No, listen.” Birgitta put the mug down. “I don't want to write you a script.” “Good, because I wouldn't follow one.” “I know.” Birgitta leaned back. “That's the point.” Panam crossed her arms. Birgitta continued. “I don't want you pretending to be a joytoy handler. I don't want you playing some character. I don't want you standing behind me looking intimidating.” “I can do intimidating.” “I know.” “Very well.” “I know.” Panam's mouth twitched. Birgitta pointed. “You. I want you.” Panam's expression changed. Birgitta touched the collar again. “My owner.” Panam looked at her for several seconds. “And when someone approaches you?” Birgitta smiled. “That's what I want to find out.” --- Breakfast became a negotiation without feeling like one. Not about whether Birgitta could work. That decision was hers. Not about whether Panam could stop her from working. She couldn't. The question was what authority Birgitta wanted to give her once they stepped into that space. Panam chose eggs. Birgitta ate them. “You normally decide whether you take a booking.” “Yes.” “Price?” “Mine.” “Duration?” “Mine.” “Extras?” “Mine.” “Whether you extend?” “Mine.” Panam nodded. “And tonight?” Birgitta took a drink of coffee. “I want those decisions to go through you.” Panam stopped. “All of them?” “Inside what I've already agreed to, yes.” Panam stared. Birgitta did not look away. “You're serious.” “Very.” “You want someone to ask you for an extra hour and you look at me.” “Yes.” “You want someone to negotiate price and I answer.” “Yes.” “Someone asks if you're available?” Birgitta smiled. “I wait.” Panam exhaled slowly. Something about that clearly landed. Birgitta saw it. “So.” Panam pointed her fork at her. “Don't.” “You like that.” “Eat.” Birgitta laughed. “Yes, owner.” Panam looked down at her breakfast. That had landed too. --- After eating, Panam sat across from Birgitta. “Refusals.” “What about them?” “If you don't want someone.” “I tell you.” “How?” Birgitta thought. “However I need to.” Panam nodded immediately. “Good.” “If it's obvious, you refuse them.” “Fine.” “If it isn't obvious, you look at me.” “Fine.” “If I say no, it's no.” “Obviously.” Birgitta smiled. Panam frowned. “What?” “Nothing.” “Birgitta.” “You didn't even have to think about that one.” “No.” “Good owner.” Panam's eyes narrowed. Birgitta grinned. “Continue.” “Home still means Home.” “Yes.” “Anywhere.” “Yes.” “Any time.” “Yes.” Panam nodded. Done. Birgitta liked that too. No ritual. No solemn speech. The foundation was already there. They were simply extending the building. Panam leaned back. “What about money?” Birgitta smiled. “You handle it.” Panam stared. “All of it?” “Tonight.” “Why?” “Because I want to know what it feels like.” Panam considered. “To not negotiate.” “To not negotiate.” “To not decide.” “To not decide.” Panam's gaze dropped briefly to the collar. Then returned. “You really have been thinking about this.” “All night.” “You were supposed to be sleeping.” “My owner distracted me.” Panam laughed despite herself. “You complaining?” Birgitta looked her over with theatrical consideration. “Not even slightly.” “Menace.” “Your menace.” “Unfortunately.” --- Birgitta showered. Panam chose her breakfast but not her work clothes. That distinction mattered. Birgitta emerged from the bedroom later transformed into the version of herself that belonged comfortably under Jig-Jig's neon. Premium. Elegant. Expensive. Almost conservative at first glance. Almost. The muted copper-grey hair framed her face perfectly. Very light brown eyes caught the apartment light. Her outfit did not advertise cheap availability. It advertised that availability itself was expensive. Panam was sitting on the couch. She looked up. Stopped. Birgitta smiled. “Working?” Panam stared. Birgitta laughed. “Oh, that face.” “What face?” “That one.” Panam stood. Walked around her once. Birgitta let her. “Turn.” Birgitta turned. Panam inspected the outfit. Not pretending expertise. Just looking. When Birgitta faced her again: “You chose this?” “Yes.” “Good.” That one word again. Birgitta's shoulders shifted almost imperceptibly. Panam noticed. Birgitta knew she noticed. Neither commented. Panam picked up the leash. Birgitta went quiet. There was something different about seeing it now. At the market it had been theirs. At coffee it had been theirs. Tonight it would walk into Birgitta's professional world with them. Visible. Unmistakable. Panam stepped closer. Her fingers checked the collar first, then lingered at Birgitta’s throat. Birgitta smiled. “You’re enjoying getting your pet ready for work.” “I’m enjoying looking at her.” That answer wiped the joke off Birgitta’s face for one warm second. “Last chance to change your mind.” Birgitta looked at her. “No.” Panam clipped the leash to the collar. Click. Birgitta exhaled. Panam held the leash. “Ready?” Birgitta smiled. “Owner.” Panam's eyebrow rose. Birgitta corrected herself. “Yes, owner.” “Good.” Oh. Birgitta briefly closed her eyes. Panam laughed softly. “Still works.” “You're abusing that.” “Apparently.” Birgitta opened her eyes. “You're learning.” Panam gave the leash one small tug. “Come.” Birgitta followed. --- In the elevator, Birgitta stood beside Panam. Close. Not behind her. Not reduced. Not hidden. The leash hung visibly between Panam's hand and Birgitta's collar. Birgitta looked at their reflection in the elevator doors. Panam noticed. “Problem?” “No.” “Nervous?” Birgitta considered lying. Didn't. “A little.” Panam looked at her. That answer mattered. “About working?” “No.” “The leash?” “No.” “Then what?” Birgitta watched their reflection. “People seeing it.” Panam waited. Birgitta smiled faintly. “And understanding.” Panam's hand tightened slightly around the leash. “You want them to.” “Yes.” “Then let them.” Simple. Of course. Birgitta looked at her. “My owner.” Panam met her eyes in the reflection. “My pet.” The elevator opened. Birgitta followed her out. --- They reached Jig-Jig before the evening rush had fully developed. Enough people to be alive. Not enough to disappear into. Perfect. Birgitta knew the territory. Knew the faces. Knew the rhythms. She could have walked it alone without thinking. Tonight she didn't. Panam chose the route. Birgitta followed. People noticed. Of course they noticed. Birgitta was known. Panam was known enough. The collar was new. The leash was impossible to misunderstand. A joytoy near one entrance looked at Birgitta. Then Panam. Then the leash. Her eyebrows rose. Birgitta smiled brightly. “Evening.” The woman smiled back. “That's new.” Birgitta glanced at Panam. Not because she needed permission to answer. Because she wanted to. Panam looked at her. Birgitta smiled. “Yes.” The woman laughed. “Looks good on you.” “Thank you.” Panam tugged gently. “Come.” Birgitta followed. Behind them: “Oh, shit.” Birgitta's smile became enormous. Panam heard it too. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “You're about to.” “I was only going to say—” “No.” Birgitta laughed. “Yes, owner.” The silence behind them became spectacular. Panam kept walking. Birgitta followed. This was going to be fun. --- Lizzie's was already filling. Music. Neon. Movement. Familiar Mox faces. Familiar customers. Familiar working girls. And Suzie Q behind the bar. Suzie saw Birgitta first. Smiled. Then saw Panam. Then saw the collar. Then the leash. The smile stopped changing for perhaps half a second. Then became much more interested. Birgitta leaned slightly toward Panam. “She noticed.” “I noticed her noticing.” “Everyone is going to notice.” “I know.” “Nervous?” Panam looked at her. “No.” Birgitta smiled. “Liar.” Panam tugged the leash. “Behave.” Birgitta's mouth closed. Immediately. Panam stopped. Birgitta looked at her. Panam looked back. They both realized what had just happened. In Lizzie's. In Birgitta's workplace. Without planning it. Birgitta's eyes brightened. Panam's expression became very, very thoughtful. Suzie Q had seen the whole thing. Her eyebrows climbed. Birgitta finally said, quietly: “Oh.” Panam looked toward Suzie. Then back at Birgitta. “Still want to do this?” Birgitta didn't hesitate. “Yes, owner.” Panam nodded. “Then work.” Birgitta smiled. But she didn't move. Panam frowned. “What?” Birgitta looked down at the leash. Then back at her. Waiting. Panam stared. Understanding arrived. Slowly. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Birgitta's smile became radiant. Panam pointed toward the room. “Go.” Birgitta moved. The leash slid through Panam's hand until there was comfortable distance between them. Then stopped. Birgitta turned toward the room. Bright. Flirtatious. Professional. Entirely Birgitta. And entirely aware that the first person who wanted access to her tonight was going to discover something new. They would not be dealing with Birgitta alone. Behind her, Panam settled into place with the leash in her hand. Suzie Q watched them both. Then slowly shook her head. Night City had not named what it was seeing yet. But it was about to get its first chance. --- ## CHAPTER 16 — DIFFERENT PANAM For the first few minutes, nobody approached. That surprised Panam. Birgitta attracted attention simply by existing in public. Working Birgitta attracted considerably more. Tonight she stood beneath Lizzie's neon looking exactly like what she was: expensive, confident, openly available to the right person and entirely uninterested in pretending everyone qualified. Muted copper-grey hair. Very light brown eyes. Elegant clothes that revealed their purpose only after someone looked twice. And around her neck, the collar. The leash ran from it into Panam's hand. People noticed. They just didn't know what to do with what they were seeing. Birgitta knew. Panam could tell from the smile. “You're enjoying this.” “Immensely.” “No one's even talked to you yet.” “They're thinking.” “About what?” Birgitta glanced around the room. “You.” Panam frowned. “Why me?” Birgitta looked pointedly at the leash. “Oh.” “Yes.” Panam looked around again. This time she saw it. Eyes found Birgitta. Then the collar. Then followed the leash. Then stopped on Panam. Some people lost interest. Others became considerably more interested. A few clearly reconsidered whatever opening line they had intended to use. Panam looked back at Birgitta. “This happens every time?” “The staring?” “Yes.” “Yes.” “The confusion?” Birgitta smiled. “That's new.” Panam considered that. “Good.” Birgitta's eyebrows rose. “What?” “You like them being confused.” “I like them thinking before they walk over.” Birgitta's expression softened. “That too.” --- Suzie Q eventually came around the bar. Not hurriedly. Suzie never hurried toward entertainment when entertainment was clearly going to come to her. She stopped beside Panam. Looked at Birgitta. Looked at the leash. Then looked at Panam. “Do I need to know something?” Panam opened her mouth. Birgitta opened hers. Panam looked at her. Birgitta closed it. Suzie saw that. Her expression became considerably more interested. Panam sighed. “She wants to work like this tonight.” Suzie looked at Birgitta. “You good?” Birgitta smiled. “Very.” “Your idea?” “Yes.” Suzie nodded. Then looked at Panam. “And you?” “I apparently have responsibilities.” Birgitta made a tiny sound. Panam pointed without looking. “Don't.” Birgitta became silent. Suzie stared at Panam. Then at Birgitta. Then back. “Okay.” Panam frowned. “That's it?” “What do you want, paperwork?” “No.” “Then don't break anything.” Suzie started away. Stopped. “And Panam?” “What?” “House share still works exactly the same.” “I know.” “Good.” Suzie returned to the bar. Birgitta waited until she was safely away. Then: “Responsibilities.” “Shut up.” “Yes, owner.” Panam looked toward the ceiling. This had been a terrible idea. Unfortunately, she was beginning to enjoy it. --- The first approach came from a woman. Corpo. Good clothes without needing the clothes to advertise their price. Relaxed posture. Confident. She had been watching Birgitta for several minutes. Birgitta had been watching her back. Panam noticed that too. The woman approached. “Evening.” Birgitta's smile changed instantly. Warm. Inviting. Professional. “Evening.” The woman's eyes went briefly to the collar. Then Panam. Then back to Birgitta. “Working?” There it was. The most ordinary question in the world. Birgitta looked at Panam. And waited. Panam almost laughed. Not because it was funny. Because suddenly the entire idea became real. The woman followed Birgitta's gaze. Now she was looking at Panam too. Panam looked at Birgitta. Birgitta said nothing. Bright eyes. Small smile. Waiting. Panam felt the leash in her hand. “She is.” The woman blinked. Then smiled. “Okay.” Birgitta's smile widened. The woman looked between them. “So do I talk to her or you?” Panam had no prepared answer. Birgitta remained silent. Of course she did. Menace. Panam thought for a moment. “Talk to her if you want to know if she's interested.” Birgitta's expression changed. Just slightly. She liked that. Panam continued. “Talk to me if you want access.” The woman stared at her. Then laughed softly. “Oh.” Birgitta looked unbearably pleased. Panam ignored her. The woman turned toward Birgitta. “Interested?” Birgitta looked her over openly. Slowly. “Yes.” “Good.” Then the woman turned to Panam. “How much?” Panam answered immediately. “Thirty-two thousand.” Birgitta's smile deepened. They had already discussed this. Not here. Not tonight. The number belonged to an earlier conversation between them, one Panam had taken seriously enough to remember exactly. No hesitation. No need to check. Thirty-two thousand. The woman nodded. “One hour?” “Yes.” “Private room?” Panam glanced at Birgitta. Birgitta nodded once. “Yes.” The woman smiled. “Done.” Payment moved. House share handled. Everything ordinary. Except nothing about this was ordinary. The woman offered Birgitta her hand. Birgitta looked at Panam. Again. Panam understood. She unclipped the leash. Click. Birgitta's attention sharpened immediately. Panam gathered the leash into her hand. “One hour.” The woman nodded. “One hour.” Panam looked at Birgitta. “Go.” Birgitta smiled. “Yes, owner.” She left with her client. Panam watched them disappear toward the private rooms. Suzie appeared beside her almost immediately. “That was interesting.” Panam didn't look at her. “Go away.” Suzie laughed. --- The hour felt longer than Panam expected. That annoyed her. Not because she was jealous. Birgitta was working. Panam understood exactly what that meant. But the leash was still in her hand. Coiled now. Empty. That felt strange. Suzie noticed. Of course she did. “You can put that down.” “No.” Suzie smiled. Panam glared. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “You were going to.” Suzie raised both hands. “Not my circus.” Panam looked toward the private rooms. Suzie followed her gaze. “Definitely your leash, though.” Panam looked at the coil in her hand. “Among other things.” Suzie’s eyebrows climbed. Panam realized what she had said. “Fuck off.” Suzie laughed and returned to the bar. Panam hated everyone. --- Birgitta returned a little under an hour later. Panam knew because she had checked the time. She chose not to examine that too closely. Birgitta looked pleased. Relaxed. Her client followed her out looking equally satisfied. “Worth it,” the woman said. Birgitta smiled. “Thank you.” Then she walked directly to Panam. Stopped in front of her. And waited. Panam looked at her. Then at the collar. She clipped the leash back on. Click. Her thumb brushed once over the ring afterward, the same small check that had already become familiar at home. Birgitta exhaled. Very slightly. Panam felt something settle inside herself at almost exactly the same moment. The client noticed. Her eyebrows rose. “That's quite a setup.” Birgitta smiled. “My owner.” The woman looked at Panam. Panam expected herself to object. She didn't. Instead: “Good client?” Birgitta nodded. “Very.” Panam looked at the woman. “Then thank you.” The corpo laughed. “Any chance of another hour?” Birgitta looked at Panam. Immediately. No hesitation. The woman saw it. Panam saw the woman see it. “No.” Birgitta's eyebrows rose. The client looked surprised. “Not available?” “No.” “Price?” “No.” The woman glanced at Birgitta. Birgitta remained silent. Still smiling. Still perfectly relaxed. Then back to Panam. “Why?” Panam shrugged. “Because I want her back for a while.” Birgitta went very still. The client looked between them. Then laughed softly. “Fair enough.” She looked at Birgitta. “Another night?” Birgitta smiled. “Maybe.” The client looked automatically toward Panam. That made all three women notice. Interesting. “Right,” the woman said. Then left. Panam turned toward Birgitta. “You're going to say something.” “No.” “That is worse.” Birgitta stepped closer. “You didn't ask me.” “No.” “You just decided.” “Yes.” “Because you wanted me back.” “Yes.” Birgitta's expression softened. There it was again. Not ownership without responsibility. Not control for spectacle. Panam had wanted her pet back. So she had brought her back. “Good owner.” Panam touched the leash. “Careful.” “With what?” “Praise me like that in front of people and I’m going to start expecting it.” Birgitta leaned closer. “That sounds like your problem, owner.” “My pet.” --- The second approach was different. A man. Polite. Attractive enough. Nervous enough that Birgitta immediately softened toward him. He spoke to Birgitta first. Panam liked that. “Working?” Birgitta looked at Panam. “She is.” The man nodded. “How much?” “Thirty-two.” He blinked. “Thousand?” Panam stared at him. He smiled awkwardly. “Had to ask.” “Thirty-two thousand.” “Can I negotiate?” “No.” That came instantly. Birgitta looked at Panam. Panam looked back. “What?” “Nothing.” The man considered. “Thirty?” “No.” “Thirty-one?” “No.” “Thirty-two?” “Yes.” Birgitta bit her lip. The man laughed. “Okay. Thirty-two.” Payment moved. Then: “Two hours?” Panam looked at Birgitta. Birgitta's expression said yes. Panam considered. “One.” Birgitta blinked. The man blinked. Panam surprised herself. “Why?” Birgitta asked. Not challenging. Genuinely curious. Panam answered her. “Because I want to see you between clients.” Birgitta stared. The man looked between them. “I feel like I'm interrupting something.” Birgitta laughed. “You are.” Panam rolled her eyes. “One hour.” The man nodded. “One hour.” Panam unclipped the leash. Before Birgitta moved away, Panam caught her hand. Birgitta turned. “Come back to me.” Birgitta's expression softened immediately. “Yes, owner.” Then she went. --- By the third approach, people had learned. That was the part Panam had not expected. The first client had approached Birgitta. The second had split his attention between them. The third walked directly to Panam. Birgitta stood beside her. Leashed. Smiling. The woman looked at Birgitta. Then Panam. “Available?” Panam glanced at Birgitta. Birgitta looked the woman over. A tiny nod. Panam turned back. “Yes.” “Rate?” “Thirty-two thousand.” “Fixed?” “Yes.” “One hour?” Panam considered. “Yes.” The woman nodded. “Done.” Birgitta had not said a word. The transaction completed. Panam looked at her. “Good?” Birgitta smiled. “Very.” Panam unclipped the leash. “Go.” “Yes, owner.” The woman led Birgitta away. Panam watched them. Then realized Suzie was staring at her. “What?” Suzie shook her head. “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Suzie smiled. “You're different.” “From what?” “From every handler I've seen try something like this.” “I'm not her handler.” “I noticed.” Panam looked toward the private rooms. Suzie continued. “You're not selling her.” “No.” “You're deciding access.” Panam looked back. “Yes.” “And she likes it.” “Yes.” Suzie nodded slowly. “That might actually work.” Panam frowned. “What might?” Suzie smiled. “You'll find out.” Then walked away. Panam stared after her. “I hate cryptic people.” From behind the bar: “I heard that.” “Good.” --- When Birgitta returned again, Panam clipped the leash back on without thinking. Birgitta stepped into place beside her without thinking. Neither noticed until afterward. That was perhaps the most important part. The evening had stopped feeling experimental. Panam held the leash. Birgitta worked. Clients approached. Birgitta decided whether she wanted them. Panam decided whether they got access. Not every answer was yes. One man approached too aggressively. Birgitta's smile disappeared. Panam did not ask. “No.” The man looked at her. “I wasn't talking to you.” “You are now.” Birgitta remained beside Panam. The man looked at the leash. Then Birgitta. “How about she decides?” Birgitta smiled again. Not warmly. “She did.” The man frowned. Panam understood immediately. Birgitta had chosen Panam to make this decision. That was Birgitta deciding. “No,” Panam repeated. The man left. No drama. No threat. No scene. Panam looked at Birgitta. “Good?” “Yes.” “Sure?” Birgitta moved closer. “Yes, owner.” Done. --- Later, during a quiet stretch, Birgitta leaned against the bar. Panam stood beside her. Leash loose. Suzie poured Birgitta water. “Having fun?” Birgitta smiled. “Immensely.” Suzie looked at Panam. “You?” “No.” Birgitta laughed. Suzie smiled. “Sure.” Panam ignored both of them. A joytoy further down the bar called: “Hey, Birgitta.” Birgitta looked over. The woman pointed at Panam. “What's the deal?” Birgitta smiled. “My owner.” The joytoy laughed. “No, I got that part.” Panam closed her eyes briefly. Of course she did. “I mean, what do we call her?” Panam opened her eyes. “No.” Nobody had proposed anything yet. Birgitta started laughing. The joytoy grinned. “I didn't say anything.” “You were going to.” “Maybe.” “Don't.” Suzie was openly amused now. Birgitta leaned closer to Panam. “She's scared.” “I am not scared.” “Terrified.” “Birgitta.” “Yes, owner?” Panam stopped. The joytoy made a delighted noise. “Oh, that's fucking adorable.” Panam looked at Suzie. “Why do I come here?” Suzie shrugged. “Apparently to work.” Birgitta nearly choked on her water. --- The name did not come that night. Not quite. But the shape of it did. People stopped seeing Panam as merely the woman holding Birgitta's leash. They began approaching her first. Asking her. Waiting for her answer. And Panam discovered something deeply inconvenient. She was good at it. No sales pitch. No performance. No elaborate rules. Just attention. Birgitta wanted that one. Not that one. Maybe that one. Too drunk. Too pushy. Good. Nervous but respectful. Fine. Thirty-two thousand. One hour. No extension. Yes. No. Wait. Go. Come back. Simple. By the end of the evening, Birgitta stood beside her with the leash clipped in place after her final booking. Tired. Happy. Still bright. Panam looked at her. “Done.” Birgitta nodded. “Done.” Panam gathered the leash slightly shorter. “We're going home.” Birgitta smiled. “Yes, owner.” That wording was deliberate. Neither of them needed to touch the other meaning of _Home_. They headed for the door. Suzie watched them leave. Several joytoys did too. So did a few customers who had learned the rules during the evening. Birgitta walked beside Panam. Collared. Leashed. Entirely herself. At the door, someone behind them called: “Night, Birgitta!” Birgitta turned. “Night!” A pause. Then: “And good night to—” Panam stopped. Slowly looked back. The woman at the bar grinned. Panam pointed at her. “No.” Laughter followed them onto the street. Birgitta was still laughing when they reached the truck. Panam opened the passenger door. “Get in.” Birgitta climbed inside. Panam closed it. Walked around. Got behind the wheel. Birgitta looked at her. “What?” Birgitta smiled. “Nothing.” Panam started the engine. “You're thinking.” “Always.” “Dangerous.” “Frequently.” Panam pulled into traffic. Birgitta looked out at Night City. Tonight had worked. Not perfectly. Not predictably. Better. Panam had not become a handler. She had become more completely herself. And Birgitta had discovered that giving her owner authority over access did not make working feel less like Birgitta. It made it feel more like theirs. The city had noticed. It simply had not found the word yet. ---- ## CHAPTER 17 — LIZZIE'S The next evening, Panam discovered that Night City had already been talking. She discovered this approximately twelve seconds after entering Lizzie's. Birgitta was beside her. Collar on. Leash attached. Panam holding it. Exactly as before. The difference was the room. Yesterday people had looked at them and tried to understand what they were seeing. Tonight several people looked at them and clearly already had opinions. Panam stopped just inside the entrance. “Oh, fuck.” Birgitta smiled. “What?” “They know.” “Know what?” “I don't know.” “That seems difficult.” “They know something.” Birgitta looked around. A joytoy near the bar gave her a cheerful little wave. Birgitta waved back. Another looked directly at Panam and smiled. Panam frowned. The smile became larger. “See?” Birgitta leaned closer. “You're becoming popular.” “I don't want to be popular.” “Too late.” Panam tugged the leash. “Come.” Birgitta followed immediately. That did not help. --- Suzie Q was behind the bar. She saw them. Raised one finger. Then reached beneath the counter and produced a bottle. Panam stared. “What is that?” “Whiskey.” “I can see that.” Suzie poured. “For me.” “Why?” Suzie pushed the glass toward her. “You're going to need it.” Panam looked suspiciously around the room. “What happened?” “Nothing.” “Suzie.” “People talk.” “I fucking knew it.” Birgitta laughed. Suzie looked at her. “Thirty-two?” Birgitta glanced at Panam. Panam answered. “Thirty-two.” Suzie nodded. “Fixed?” “Yes.” “Good.” Panam picked up the whiskey. Birgitta looked amused. “You two are very businesslike.” Suzie shrugged. “Somebody has to be.” Panam drank. Then Suzie looked past them. “Oh.” Panam knew that tone. “What?” Suzie pointed with her chin. Panam turned. Birgitta turned. And Birgitta smiled immediately. “Well.” Panam followed her gaze. Dalia was walking toward them. Deja beside her. --- Dalia looked spectacular. Of course she did. Neon-pink hair. Reflective green eyes. Thigh-high boots. Premium joytoy elegance with just enough deliberate excess to make subtlety irrelevant. The menthol lollipop moved slowly from one side of her mouth to the other. Deja walked beside her. Different energy entirely. Controlled. Sharp. Beautiful. And visibly accustomed to Dalia setting the pace. Dalia saw Birgitta. Then the collar. Then the leash. Then Panam. She stopped. Deja nearly walked into her. “What?” Dalia didn't answer. Her eyes moved down the leash. Then back up. “Oh.” Panam sighed. “No.” Dalia removed the lollipop. “I haven't said anything.” “You made a sound.” “It was an observation.” “It was one syllable.” “Efficient observation.” Birgitta laughed. “Hello, Dalia.” “Birgitta.” Dalia's eyes dropped once more to the collar. “Interesting evening?” “Very.” “Apparently.” Then she looked at Panam. Panam lifted the whiskey. “Don't.” Dalia smiled. “I still haven't said anything.” “You're enjoying this too much.” “Possibly.” Deja had said nothing. That was what made Birgitta look at her. Deja was staring at the leash. Not the collar. The leash. Birgitta noticed. Panam did not. Dalia absolutely did. Her eyes shifted sideways. Deja looked away. Too late. Dalia put the lollipop back in her mouth. Said nothing. For now. --- They ended up together near the bar. Not deliberately. Lizzie's simply had gravity. Dalia leaned against the counter. Deja beside her. Birgitta stood close to Panam. The leash hung loose between them. Suzie moved between customers. Everything almost normal. Dalia finally looked at Birgitta. “So.” Birgitta smiled. “So.” “You're working?” Birgitta looked at Panam. Dalia froze. Deja looked up. Suzie stopped polishing a glass. Panam closed her eyes. “Really?” Birgitta's smile became innocent. “You asked.” Dalia slowly turned toward Panam. Panam opened her eyes. “Yes. She's working.” Dalia stared at her. Then at Birgitta. Then back. “Oh, this is much worse than I thought.” Panam frowned. “Worse?” “For you.” Birgitta laughed. Panam pointed at Dalia. “Do not encourage her.” Dalia put one hand against her chest. “Me?” “Yes, you.” “I would never.” Deja made a tiny noise. Dalia turned. “What?” “Nothing.” Dalia stared at her. Deja stared back. Dalia's eyes narrowed. Then drifted downward. To Birgitta's leash. Deja immediately looked at the bar. Dalia's mouth twitched. Panam missed the entire exchange. Birgitta did not. Interesting. --- The first customer approached twenty minutes later. A regular. Not Birgitta's. Mandi's. Birgitta recognized him. Dalia clearly did too. He stopped near the group. Looked at Birgitta. Then Panam. “Working?” Birgitta looked at Panam. Panam answered. “She is.” The man nodded. “How much?” “Thirty-two.” He blinked. “Thirty-two?” “Yes.” “Thousand?” Panam stared at him. He raised his hands. “Okay.” His attention returned to Birgitta. “Last I heard, you were cheaper.” Birgitta smiled. “Things change.” He looked at Panam. Then at the leash. Then back at Birgitta. “Because of this?” Birgitta's smile became brighter. Panam looked at her. Birgitta looked back. Neither answered. The man laughed. “Right.” He considered Birgitta for another moment. “Thirty-two.” Panam nodded. “One hour.” “Fine.” Birgitta gave Panam a small nod. Payment moved. Panam unclipped the leash. “Go.” “Yes, owner.” The man stopped. Actually stopped. His eyes moved from Birgitta to Panam. “Owner?” Birgitta smiled. “My owner.” Behind Panam, Dalia made a choking sound. Panam turned. Dalia had the lollipop out of her mouth and was staring determinedly at the opposite wall. “Problem?” Dalia shook her head. “No.” “Bullshit.” “Professionalism.” Panam stared. Dalia's shoulders moved once. Birgitta's client looked increasingly entertained. Panam pointed toward the private rooms. “Go.” Birgitta laughed. “Yes, owner.” She left with the client. Panam watched her go. Then turned toward Dalia. “Say it.” Dalia put the lollipop back in her mouth. “Say what?” “Whatever the fuck you're trying not to say.” Dalia smiled around the lollipop. “Nothing.” Panam narrowed her eyes. Dalia won. Barely. --- Without Birgitta beside them, the leash remained in Panam's hand. Deja looked at it. Again. Dalia saw. Again. This time she waited. Five seconds. Ten. Deja kept looking. Dalia finally said: “You're staring.” Deja immediately looked up. “I'm not.” Dalia slowly removed the lollipop. “Deja.” “I'm not.” Dalia looked at the leash. Then at Deja. Deja crossed her arms. Dalia waited. Deja lasted approximately four seconds. “…She has a leash.” Dalia blinked. “Yes.” Deja looked at the leash again. “A nice leash.” Dalia closed her eyes. “And apparently a type.” Deja looked at Panam. Then back at Dalia. “Oh.” Dalia sighed. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Panam looked over. “What?” Dalia opened her eyes. “Nothing.” Deja was suddenly extremely interested in the architecture. Panam looked between them. “What did I miss?” “Nothing.” “That's twice.” Dalia smiled sweetly. “You should pay more attention.” Panam frowned. “I am paying attention.” Dalia looked at the leash in Panam's hand. “Yes.” Then she put the lollipop back in her mouth. Panam stared. “I hate you.” Dalia smiled. “No, you don't.” Unfortunately, Panam did not have a convincing response. --- Birgitta returned fifty-six minutes later. She came directly toward Panam. Stopped. Waited. Panam clipped the leash back on. Click. Deja watched. Dalia watched Deja watching. Birgitta watched Dalia watching Deja watching. Panam noticed none of this because she was looking at Birgitta. “Good?” “Very.” “Tired?” “No.” “Water.” Birgitta nodded. “Yes, owner.” Panam handed her a glass. Birgitta drank. Dalia's eyebrows rose. Not at the obedience. She knew control. She knew exactly what that looked like. What interested her was how ordinary it had become. No performance. No visible negotiation. Panam noticed a need. Panam handled it. Birgitta accepted the care with the same ease she accepted the command. Dalia looked at Deja. Deja was still looking at the leash. Dalia sighed. Quietly. This was going to become her problem. She could feel it. --- A second customer approached. Then another. The pattern repeated. Interested? Birgitta decided. Access? Panam decided. Thirty-two thousand. Fixed. One hour unless Panam chose otherwise. Leash off. Work. Return. Leash on. Water. Rest. Again. Dalia watched. Not constantly. She had her own work. So did Deja. But whenever they crossed paths again, the arrangement was still there. Consistent. Birgitta remained Birgitta. Bright. Flirtatious. Talkative. She joked with customers. Flirted openly. Touched when she wanted. Refused when she didn't. Nothing about Panam's authority had made her smaller. If anything, she seemed lighter. Someone else was carrying the structure. That was the part Dalia understood. And perhaps the part Deja had noticed first. --- Much later, Dalia and Deja were briefly alone near one of the side corridors. Dalia leaned against the wall. Deja stood beside her. Dalia waited. Deja knew exactly what she was waiting for. “No.” “I didn't ask.” “You were going to.” Dalia smiled. Deja glared. Dalia put the lollipop between her lips. Silence. Then Deja looked across the room. Birgitta was beside Panam. Leashed. Laughing about something. Panam said something. Birgitta immediately sat on the edge of a nearby booth. Deja looked away. Dalia removed the lollipop. “Deja.” “No.” “Okay.” That was worse. Deja looked at her. “You're not going to ask?” “No.” “Why?” “You said no.” Deja stared. Dalia smiled. Then started walking away. Deja followed. After three steps: “It is a nice leash.” Dalia stopped. Closed her eyes. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Deja smiled. Just slightly. Dalia turned around. “No.” “I didn't ask anything.” “You're learning bad habits.” “From you.” Dalia stared at her. Deja's smile widened. Dalia pointed down the corridor. “Work.” “Yes, Dalia.” Deja walked away. Dalia watched her go. Then looked across the room at Panam. Panam was holding Birgitta's leash. Completely unaware that she had just created a problem in someone else's relationship. Dalia put the lollipop back in her mouth. “Goddammit.” --- Near closing, Birgitta stood beside Panam again. Final client done. Leash attached. Water finished. Panam looked at her. “Enough.” Birgitta nodded. “Yes.” No argument. Panam shortened the leash slightly. “We're leaving.” “Yes, owner.” Suzie heard. She shook her head. Dalia heard. She smiled. Deja heard. Her eyes dropped to the leash one final time. Dalia caught it. Deja caught Dalia catching it. Neither said anything. Birgitta saw both. She smiled. Dalia noticed. Her eyes narrowed. Birgitta's smile became angelic. Panam looked between them. “What?” Three women answered at once. “Nothing.” Panam stared. “I hate this place.” Suzie called from behind the bar: “No, you don't.” Panam pointed at her. “Stay out of it.” Suzie laughed. Panam turned toward the door. “Come.” Birgitta followed. As they passed Dalia and Deja, Birgitta smiled. “Good night.” “Night,” Dalia said. Deja smiled. “Night.” Panam and Birgitta disappeared through the door. Dalia waited. One second. Two. Then looked at Deja. Deja looked straight ahead. Dalia slowly removed the lollipop. Deja sighed. “Don't.” Dalia put it back. She hadn't said a word. Which, under the circumstances, was positively heroic. --- ## CHAPTER 18 — WORKING? By the third night, Panam had rules. This concerned her. She had not written them down. She had not consciously created them. Nobody had sat at a table and designed a system. They had simply appeared. Birgitta noticed them first. Of course she did. They were walking toward Lizzie's when she said: “You don't let me take clients back to back.” Panam kept walking. “No.” “You make me drink between bookings.” “Yes.” “You usually keep me with you at least fifteen minutes.” “Usually.” “You won't let anyone negotiate.” “No.” “You don't like drunk clients.” “No.” “You don't like rude clients.” “No.” “You don't like people touching me before you've agreed they can have access.” Panam stopped. Birgitta stopped with her. The leash went slack between them. “That one bothers you?” Birgitta smiled. “No.” “Then why are we talking about it?” “Because you have rules.” “I don't have rules.” Birgitta counted on her fingers. “Water. Breaks. Price. Drunks. Assholes. Touching.” “Those are common sense.” “They are rules.” “They're common sense.” “My owner has rules.” Panam started walking again. “Your owner is reconsidering this entire arrangement.” Birgitta followed. “No, she isn't.” “No?” “No.” “How do you know?” Birgitta smiled. “Because you brought the leash.” Panam looked at the leash in her hand. “Fuck.” --- Lizzie's had adjusted. That was almost worse. Nobody stared when they entered. People noticed. That was different. A few nodded to Birgitta. One joytoy nodded to Panam. Panam nodded back automatically. Then frowned at herself. Birgitta saw. “You have colleagues.” “No.” “You just greeted one.” “I know her.” “From work.” “Stop.” Birgitta laughed. Panam gave the leash a light pull. “Come.” “Yes, owner.” That still produced a few looks. Not because it was shocking anymore. Because people were beginning to recognize the pattern. Panam hated how quickly Night City learned. --- Dalia and Deja were already there. Dalia saw them. Deja saw them. Deja's eyes dropped immediately to the leash. Dalia saw that too. Her shoulders fell. Panam approached. “What?” Dalia put her menthol lollipop between her teeth. “Nothing.” “You look annoyed.” “Do I?” “Yes.” Dalia glanced at Deja. Deja was suddenly examining something fascinating on the opposite side of the room. Dalia looked back at Panam. “Your fault.” Panam frowned. “What did I do?” “Nothing.” “That makes no sense.” “Welcome to my evening.” Birgitta covered her mouth. Panam looked at her. “What?” Birgitta shook her head. “Nothing.” Panam stared at all three of them. “I hate this fucking place.” From behind the bar: “No, you don't.” Panam turned. “Suzie!” Suzie Q raised a glass. --- The first booking happened quickly. A familiar customer approached Panam. Not Birgitta. Panam noticed. So did Birgitta. “Evening.” “Evening.” The man looked toward Birgitta. “Working?” Birgitta waited. Panam looked at her. Interested? Birgitta gave the smallest nod. “She is.” “Thirty-two?” Panam paused. That was new. “Yes.” “One hour?” “Yes.” “Can I—” “No.” The man laughed. “I didn't even finish.” “You were going to negotiate.” “I was going to ask about two hours.” Panam considered. Birgitta waited. “No.” “One?” “One.” “Okay.” Payment. House share. Done. Panam unclipped the leash. “Go.” Birgitta stepped toward the client. Then stopped. Panam looked at her. Birgitta looked back. Panam knew that look now. “What?” Birgitta smiled. “Nothing.” “Go.” “Yes, owner.” She went. The man glanced back at Panam once. Panam caught him. “One hour.” He nodded quickly. “One hour.” They disappeared. Dalia was nearby. Panam turned. Dalia was staring. “What?” Dalia slowly removed the lollipop. “You're getting frighteningly efficient.” “It's not complicated.” Dalia looked toward the private rooms. Then back at Panam. “No. I suppose it isn't.” Panam narrowed her eyes. Something in Dalia's tone suggested a thought she didn't want. “What?” “Nothing.” “Everyone keeps saying that.” “Perhaps you should stop asking.” --- Panam held the empty leash. Deja appeared beside Dalia. Her eyes dropped to it. Dalia closed her eyes. “No.” Deja looked innocent. “I didn't say anything.” “You didn't have to.” Panam looked between them. “What the fuck is happening?” “Nothing,” Deja said. Dalia opened her eyes. “Apparently she likes the leash.” Deja stared at her. “Traitor.” Panam blinked. Then looked at the leash. Then at Deja. “Oh.” Deja crossed her arms. Panam's mouth twitched. “Don't.” That came from Dalia. Panam looked at her. “What?” “Whatever you're about to say.” “I wasn't going to say anything.” Dalia pointed at her. “You had the face.” “What face?” “The same one Birgitta gets before she becomes a problem.” Panam considered this. “That's fair.” Deja looked betrayed. “You two are getting along.” “No,” Dalia and Panam said together. Birgitta would have loved this. Unfortunately, Birgitta was working. Panam checked the time. Dalia saw. There it was. The shift. Instant. Teasing disappeared. “How long?” “Twenty-eight minutes.” Dalia nodded. Nothing more. Because Dalia understood that part too. The leash was funny. The responsibility wasn't. --- Birgitta returned on time. She walked directly to Panam. Panam clipped her in. Click. Deja watched. Dalia looked at Deja. Deja looked at Dalia. “Don't.” Dalia said nothing. Heroic. Panam handed Birgitta water. “Drink.” “Yes, owner.” Birgitta drank. “Good?” “Yes.” “Anything I need to know?” “No.” “Tired?” “No.” “Hungry?” “Not yet.” Panam nodded. “Fifteen minutes.” Birgitta smiled. “Yes, owner.” A customer who had been waiting nearby watched the exchange. He stepped closer. “Excuse me.” Panam looked at him. “Yeah?” He pointed lightly toward Birgitta. “Working?” Birgitta looked at Panam. Panam looked at Birgitta. Birgitta was interested. But Panam shook her head. “Not yet.” The man blinked. Birgitta said nothing. “How long?” Panam checked the time. “Twelve minutes.” The man laughed. “You're serious?” “Yes.” He looked at Birgitta. Birgitta smiled. “She is.” “Can I buy the twelve minutes?” “No,” Panam said. Birgitta nearly laughed. The man looked at Panam. “Why not?” “Because she's resting.” “It's twelve minutes.” “Yes.” “I'll pay.” “No.” He looked genuinely fascinated now. “You don't want money?” Panam frowned. “Not enough to be stupid.” That shut him up. Birgitta lowered her glass. Her expression had changed. Softened. Panam noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta smiled. “My owner.” Her fingers touched Panam’s wrist for a moment—gratitude without turning the care into a speech. Panam stared at her. Then understood. “Oh.” Not control. Care. Again. Always both. Panam looked at the man. “Twelve minutes.” He nodded. “I'll wait.” “Good.” --- He did. Exactly twelve minutes later, he approached again. Panam looked at Birgitta. Birgitta nodded. Panam said: “Thirty-two.” “Fine.” “One hour.” “Fine.” “No extensions.” He smiled. “I've been listening.” “Good.” Payment moved. Panam reached for the leash clip. Then stopped. Something occurred to her. She looked at the man. “Ask her.” He blinked. “What?” Panam nodded toward Birgitta. “You waited. You followed the rules. Now ask her.” The man turned. Birgitta looked surprised. Pleasantly. “Would you like to spend an hour with me?” Birgitta looked him over. Then smiled. “Yes.” Only then did Panam unclip the leash. “Go.” Birgitta kissed Panam lightly on the cheek. “Good owner.” Then left. Panam watched her. Dalia appeared beside her. “That was good.” Panam glanced over. “No joke?” “No.” “Are you sick?” Dalia rolled her eyes. “You're deciding access. You're not deciding desire.” Panam looked toward Birgitta. “Yes.” Dalia put the lollipop back in her mouth. “Good.” Panam stared at her. “What?” “Nothing.” “No, seriously. What?” Dalia smiled. “You're learning.” “Fuck you.” “There she is.” --- Later, the room became busier. Mandi arrived. Panam saw the neon-orange hair before she saw the rest of her. Mandi entered like Mandi always entered. As if Night City had been built approximately five minutes earlier for the specific purpose of giving her somewhere interesting to stand. She greeted Suzie. Flirted with someone before reaching the bar. Stole somebody's drink. Returned it when Suzie looked at her. Then saw Birgitta. Then the collar. Then the leash. Then Panam. Mandi stopped. Panam saw the exact moment her evening became worse. “No.” Mandi hadn't even reached them. She grinned. Panam pointed. “No.” Mandi approached anyway. “Hello, Panam.” “No.” “Birgitta.” Birgitta smiled. “Mandi.” Mandi looked at the collar. Then the leash. Then Panam's hand. Then Birgitta. Then Panam again. Panam waited. Mandi smiled. “Cute.” “Fuck off.” “I meant the leash.” “Fuck off.” Birgitta laughed. Mandi leaned against the bar. “So.” “No.” “I haven't asked anything.” “You're going to.” “Probably.” Panam sighed. Mandi looked at Birgitta. “Working?” Birgitta looked at Panam. Mandi's smile disappeared. Not completely. Just enough. Panam saw it. Mandi looked from Birgitta to Panam. Panam looked at Birgitta. Birgitta was obviously not interested in taking Mandi as a client. But that wasn't the interesting part. The interesting part was the pause. The waiting. The ease. Panam answered anyway. “She's working.” Mandi's eyes returned to Birgitta. Then Panam. “Thirty-two.” Mandi knew. Of course Mandi knew. Everybody apparently knew everything. “Yes.” Mandi tilted her head. “And if I wanted an hour?” Birgitta's eyebrows rose. Panam looked at Birgitta. Birgitta looked back. Amused. Curious. But not interested. Panam looked at Mandi. “No.” Mandi laughed. “Fair.” No argument. No performance. She pushed away from the bar. “Have fun.” Birgitta smiled. “Always.” Mandi started walking away. Then stopped. Looked back. Not at Birgitta. At Panam. At the leash. Only for a second. Then Mandi smiled again and disappeared into the room. Panam frowned. “What was that?” Birgitta took a drink. “What?” “That look.” Birgitta smiled. “I have no idea.” Panam stared. Birgitta smiled more brightly. Panam sighed. “Everyone in this place is a menace.” “Yes, owner.” “Especially you.” “Your menace.” Panam looked away before Birgitta saw the smile. Too late. --- Near midnight, it happened again. A customer approached Birgitta directly. “Working?” Birgitta looked at Panam. Panam looked at Birgitta. No. Birgitta's expression had changed before the man arrived. Tired. Only slightly. Most people wouldn't have seen it. Panam did. “No.” The man looked confused. Birgitta remained silent. “She's not?” “Not anymore.” The man looked at Birgitta. Birgitta smiled politely. “Another night.” He nodded. “Sure.” And left. Panam shortened the leash. “We're done.” Birgitta looked at her. “You decided.” “Yes.” Birgitta smiled. “Good.” Panam frowned. “You are tired.” “A little.” “Why didn't you say anything?” “I didn't need to.” Panam stared at her. Birgitta touched the leash lightly. “You noticed.” That landed harder than Panam expected. She looked away. “Water.” “Yes, owner.” “Then food.” “Yes, owner.” “Then home.” Birgitta smiled. “Yes.” --- They sat together for another twenty minutes. Birgitta ate. Panam made sure she ate. Dalia passed once. Saw. Smiled. Kept walking. Deja followed. Her eyes dropped to the leash. Dalia saw. Kept walking. Progress. Maybe. Suzie came by. “You're done?” Panam nodded. “She is.” Birgitta smiled around a bite of food. Suzie looked at her. “You okay with her answering everything now?” Birgitta swallowed. “She doesn't.” Suzie looked interested. “No?” Birgitta shook her head. “She answers what I've given her.” Panam went still. Suzie looked at Panam. Then Birgitta. Then nodded. “That's an important difference.” “Yes.” Suzie moved away. Panam remained quiet. Birgitta looked at her. “What?” “You say things better than I do.” “That's why I'm expensive.” Panam laughed. “Thirty-two thousand?” “Exactly.” “You're ridiculous.” “My owner still keeps bringing me back.” “That may be evidence of poor judgment.” Birgitta leaned against her shoulder. “Probably.” Panam let her. The leash lay loose across her thigh. Across the room, Mandi was talking to a customer. Laughing. Bright. Effortless. For one moment her eyes moved toward Panam and Birgitta. Then away. Nothing happened. Not tonight. Panam looked down at Birgitta. “Ready?” Birgitta nodded. Panam stood. Birgitta stood with her. “Come.” “Yes, owner.” They walked toward the exit. This time nobody laughed. Nobody stared. Nobody seemed confused. A joytoy near the door simply moved aside and said: “Night, Birgitta.” “Night.” Then she looked at Panam. “Night.” Panam nodded. “Night.” Outside, Birgitta began laughing. Panam frowned. “What?” “They said good night to you.” “So?” “As if you work there.” “I don't.” Birgitta looked at the leash. Panam looked at the leash. “Fuck.” Birgitta laughed harder. Panam opened the truck door. “Get in.” “Yes, owner.” Birgitta climbed inside. Panam closed the door. Behind them, through Lizzie's neon, people were already learning something neither of them had intended to teach. Working Birgitta was still Birgitta. Her yes remained hers. Her no remained hers. But if someone wanted access— they were learning where to ask. --- ## CHAPTER 19 — MADAME Panam discovered the name on the fourth night. She hated it immediately. That should probably have warned her that it was going to survive. The evening began normally. Or what had somehow become normal. Panam arrived at Lizzie's with Birgitta beside her. Collar. Leash. Thirty-two thousand. Fixed. Water between clients. Breaks. Panam decided access. Birgitta decided interest. Nobody explained any of it anymore. That was the first sign of trouble. The second was Suzie Q. Panam reached the bar. Suzie looked up. “Evening.” “Evening.” “Birgitta.” “Suzie.” Suzie looked at Panam. There was something in her expression. Panam narrowed her eyes. “What?” “Nothing.” “No.” Suzie picked up a glass. “Drink?” “What happened?” “Nothing happened.” “Suzie.” Birgitta smiled beside her. Panam looked at Birgitta. “You know something.” “I just arrived with you.” “That doesn't mean anything.” “Fair.” Suzie put a whiskey in front of Panam. Panam did not touch it. “What?” Suzie sighed. “You're getting paranoid.” “I work with mercenaries.” “You are a mercenary.” “Exactly.” Suzie looked toward the room. Panam followed her gaze. Nothing unusual. Customers. Joytoys. Mox. Dalia near one of the side booths. Deja talking to someone. Normal. Panam looked back. “Suzie.” Suzie smiled. “Have your drink.” Panam picked it up. “This place is becoming hostile.” Birgitta leaned closer. “My poor owner.” Panam pointed at her. “You're part of the problem.” “Yes, owner.” “You enjoy this.” “Only the pretty kinds of suffering.” Suzie looked away very quickly. Panam saw. “Oh, fuck you too.” --- The first customer was easy. A woman who had booked Birgitta before. She approached Panam directly. “Thirty-two?” “Yes.” “One hour.” Panam looked at Birgitta. Birgitta smiled. Interested. “One hour.” Payment. Leash off. “Go.” “Yes, owner.” Routine. Panam watched them leave. She sat at the bar. Suzie said nothing. Panam drank. Five minutes. Ten. Then a joytoy Panam vaguely recognized stopped beside her. “Busy night?” “Not yet.” The woman looked toward the private rooms. “Birgitta working?” “Yes.” “Good.” She started away. Then: “See you around.” Panam nodded. “Yeah.” The woman walked two steps. Stopped. Turned. There was a smile on her face. “Madame.” Panam stared. The woman disappeared into the crowd. Panam slowly turned toward Suzie. Suzie became intensely interested in cleaning the bar. “No.” Suzie kept cleaning. “No.” “I didn't say anything.” “Where the fuck did that come from?” Suzie shrugged. “Night City.” “No.” “Very persuasive argument.” “I am not a fucking Madame.” Suzie looked at the leash coiled in Panam's hand. Then at Panam. Panam looked at the leash. “Don't.” Suzie smiled. “I didn't say anything.” “I hate everyone.” --- Birgitta returned forty-nine minutes later. She walked toward Panam. Stopped. Waited. Panam clipped the leash on. Click. Birgitta smiled. Panam pointed at her. “No.” Birgitta blinked. “What?” “You're not allowed to like this.” “I don't know what we're talking about.” Panam looked toward Suzie. Suzie raised both hands. Birgitta looked between them. “What happened?” Panam glared. Suzie answered. “Someone called her Madame.” Birgitta froze. Panam saw it. “No.” Birgitta's mouth opened. “No.” Birgitta closed it. Her shoulders moved. “Do not laugh.” Birgitta made a strangled sound. “Birgitta.” That did it. She laughed. Not politely. Not discreetly. She folded against the bar and laughed until she had to hold Panam's arm for balance. Panam stared at her. “I hate you.” Birgitta tried to breathe. “Madame Panam.” “No.” “Oh, that's—” “No.” “Owner, it's perfect.” “It is fucking not.” Suzie put water in front of Birgitta. Birgitta took it. “Thank you.” “You're welcome.” Panam looked at Suzie. “Stop helping.” “She's thirsty.” “I know she's thirsty.” Birgitta drank. Still laughing. Panam waited. Eventually Birgitta recovered enough to stand properly. She looked at Panam. Her eyes were shining. “Madame.” Panam tugged the leash. Birgitta stepped closer immediately. “Careful.” That only made her smile more. “Yes, owner.” Panam stared. That was better. Much better. “My pet.” Birgitta softened. Suzie watched the exchange. Interesting. Private word. Public word. Nobody had planned that either. --- The second person to use it was a customer. That made things worse. He approached while Birgitta was resting. He looked at her. Then Panam. “Is she available?” “Ten minutes.” He nodded. “I'll wait.” Good. He moved away. Ten minutes later he returned. Panam looked at Birgitta. Interested. “Yes.” The man smiled. “Thirty-two?” “Yes.” “One hour?” “Yes.” He transferred payment. Then looked at Panam. “Thank you, Madame.” Panam's eyes narrowed. Birgitta looked away. Panam could see her shoulders shaking. “Don't call me that.” The man blinked. “Oh. Sorry.” “Good.” He looked at Birgitta. Birgitta regained control. Barely. Panam unclipped the leash. “Go.” “Yes, owner.” The man looked between them. Something clicked in his expression. He smiled. Not mockingly. Understanding. “Right.” Panam pointed toward the private rooms. “Go.” They went. Panam turned toward Suzie. “This is your fault.” Suzie laughed. “I haven't called you anything.” “You allowed it.” “This is a bar, Panam, not a fucking linguistic checkpoint.” “It could be.” “No.” --- Dalia arrived beside her a few minutes later. Panam saw the smile. “No.” Dalia removed the menthol lollipop. “I hear you have a title.” “No.” “Congratulations.” “No.” “Promotion?” “No.” “Do we bow?” “Dalia.” Dalia smiled. “Madame.” Panam stood. Dalia took one step backward. Laughing. “You fucking—” “Careful. Very undignified.” “I will throw you into traffic.” Dalia put one hand against her chest. “Madame!” Deja appeared. “What happened?” Dalia turned toward her. “Our friend has been elevated.” Panam pointed. “Do not.” Deja looked confused. “Elevated to what?” Dalia looked directly at Panam. Panam stared back. Dalia smiled. “Madame Panam.” Deja's face went blank. Then she looked at the leash. Then Panam. Then Dalia. “Oh.” “No.” Deja smiled. “Oh, that's good.” “No, it isn't.” “It kind of is.” “Fuck both of you.” Dalia put the lollipop back in her mouth. “Such language, Madame.” Dalia’s eyes flicked once to Birgitta, then back. “She seems to like it, though.” Birgitta’s smile became radiant. Panam lunged one step toward her. Dalia moved away laughing. Deja followed. Then Deja stopped. Looked back at Panam. More specifically: At the leash. Dalia noticed. Her laughter stopped. She closed her eyes. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Panam frowned. “What?” Dalia opened her eyes. “Nothing.” Deja walked away. Panam stared after them. She had no idea what that was about. Probably safer that way. --- By the time Birgitta returned, three more people had used the name. Panam had corrected all three. This accomplished nothing. Birgitta walked directly to her. Panam clipped her in. Click. “Good?” “Very.” “Water.” “Yes, owner.” Panam handed it over. Birgitta drank. A woman passed behind them. “Evening, Madame.” Panam closed her eyes. Birgitta nearly inhaled her water. Panam waited until the woman had gone. Then looked at Birgitta. “Say one word.” Birgitta swallowed. “Wouldn't dream of it.” “You're smiling.” “I smile all the time.” “Not like that.” Birgitta laughed softly. Panam sighed. “Why do you like it?” That changed something. Birgitta considered the question seriously. She put down the water. “I don't know.” “Bullshit.” “No. I mean it.” Birgitta looked at her. “Owner is ours.” Panam went quiet. Birgitta touched the collar, then briefly covered Panam’s hand where it held the leash. “My owner.” Then she glanced around Lizzie's. “But they can't call you that.” Panam frowned. “Why not?” “Because you're not theirs.” That landed. Panam looked at Birgitta. Birgitta smiled. “They needed something else.” “And they picked Madame.” “Yes.” “Stupid.” “Very.” “I hate it.” “I know.” Birgitta's smile widened. “That helps.” Panam groaned. --- Later, a customer approached. A woman. Elegant. Calm. She spoke directly to Panam. “Madame.” Panam's expression hardened. The woman immediately lifted one hand. “I know. You hate it.” “Good.” “But I don't know what else to call you.” “Panam.” The woman considered. Then looked at Birgitta. Birgitta was standing beside Panam. Leash loose. Relaxed. The woman looked back. “Panam.” “Better.” “Is Birgitta available?” Panam looked at Birgitta. Birgitta studied the woman. Then nodded. “Yes.” “Thirty-two?” “Yes.” “One hour?” “Yes.” “Can I request ninety minutes?” Panam considered. Birgitta waited. Panam looked at her. Still interested. Not tired. “Fine.” The woman nodded. “Thank you.” Payment moved. Panam unclipped the leash. “Come back in ninety.” “Yes, owner.” The woman paused. Looked at Panam. Then Birgitta. Something in her expression softened. “I see.” Panam frowned. “What?” “Nothing.” She smiled. “Come on, Birgitta.” They left. Panam stared after them. Suzie appeared. “What?” Panam pointed. “Everyone keeps doing that.” “Doing what?” “Saying nothing.” Suzie smiled. “You've become very sensitive.” “Fuck you.” --- The evening settled into rhythm. Not every customer used the name. Most didn't. But enough did. Madame. Sometimes joking. Sometimes respectful. Sometimes simply because they needed a word for the woman holding the leash and controlling access to one of Lizzie's premium joytoys. Panam corrected fewer of them as the night went on. Not because she liked it. Absolutely not. Because repeating herself became exhausting. That was what she told herself. Suzie did not challenge the explanation. Suzie wanted to live. --- Near the end of the night, Birgitta returned from her final booking. Panam clipped the leash back on. Click. Birgitta leaned closer. “Tired?” “A little.” “Done.” “Yes.” Panam handed her water. Birgitta drank. Then rested her shoulder lightly against Panam. Someone called from across the room: “Night, Madame!” Panam lifted one hand without looking. “Fuck off.” Laughter. Birgitta smiled against her shoulder. “Very dignified.” “Shut up.” “Yes, owner.” Panam looked down at her. Birgitta looked up. The noise of Lizzie's continued around them. The name belonged out there. To customers. Joytoys. Rumors. The room. This didn't. Panam touched two fingers beneath Birgitta's collar. “My pet.” Birgitta smiled. “My owner.” Panam picked up the leash. “We're leaving.” “Yes, owner.” They started toward the exit. Dalia saw them go. She raised her lollipop in salute. “Good night, Madame.” Panam didn't stop. “Fuck you, Dalia.” Dalia laughed. Deja stood beside her. Watching the leash. Dalia noticed. Again. Her smile disappeared. “Goddammit.” Deja looked innocent. “What?” “Nothing.” They watched Panam and Birgitta disappear through the door. Suzie Q leaned against the bar. She had heard all of it. Seen all of it. The word had started as a joke. That was how Night City worked sometimes. A joke became shorthand. Shorthand became reputation. Reputation became something people treated as real. Panam had not named herself. Birgitta had not named her. Nobody had announced anything. But somewhere between the first leash, the first _Working?_, the first customer who learned to ask Panam for access, and the first person who needed a word for what they were seeing— Night City had solved the problem for them. Madame Panam. Panam was going to fucking hate it. --- ## CHAPTER 20 — GATEKEEPER Panam stopped correcting people the next night. Not because she had accepted the name. Absolutely not. She had simply discovered that arguing with Night City was exhausting. The first person who greeted her with— “Evening, Madame.” —received a glare. Nothing more. Birgitta noticed immediately. “Oh.” Panam kept walking. “Don't.” “You didn't correct her.” “I am conserving energy.” “Of course.” “For important things.” “Obviously.” “Like deciding whether you work tonight.” Birgitta's smile widened. Panam stopped. Birgitta stopped beside her. The leash went slack. Panam looked at her. Birgitta waited. “You want to?” “Yes.” “Tired?” “No.” “Anything hurt?” “No.” “Anything from yesterday I need to know?” “No.” Panam studied her for another second. “Good.” Birgitta's expression softened. Panam resumed walking. “Then you work.” “Yes, owner.” There. That was worth conserving energy for. --- Suzie Q had already placed a whiskey on the bar. Panam frowned at it. “Am I becoming predictable?” “Yes.” “Fuck.” Suzie looked at Birgitta. “Water?” “Yes, please.” Suzie poured it. Panam looked around. Busier tonight. Friday. More corpos. More tourists. More people with money and questionable judgment. Good for business. Potentially annoying for Panam. She found herself assessing the room automatically. Too drunk. Too loud. Probably fine. Absolutely not. Maybe. Birgitta noticed. “You're doing it.” “What?” “Shopping.” Panam stared at her. “For clients.” “I am not shopping for clients.” “You just rejected three people who haven't approached us.” “One of them can barely stand.” “Correct.” “One has been bothering that girl for ten minutes.” “Also correct.” “And the third one looks like an asshole.” Birgitta smiled. “Scientific.” “Shut up.” “Yes, owner.” Suzie leaned against the bar. “You're getting good at this.” Panam looked at her. “Don't start.” “I didn't say Madame.” “You were thinking it.” Suzie smiled. “Paranoid.” --- The first serious approach came fifteen minutes later. A man in an expensive suit. Sober. Polite. Older than Birgitta. He approached Panam. Not Birgitta. “Madame.” Panam's jaw tightened. Birgitta looked down to hide a smile. The man continued. “Is Birgitta available?” Panam looked at Birgitta. Birgitta studied him. A moment. Then a small nod. “Yes.” “Thirty-two?” “Yes.” “One hour?” “Yes.” “Could I request two?” Panam looked at Birgitta again. Birgitta was still interested. Panam considered. “How's your energy?” “Good.” “You've eaten?” “Yes.” “Two?” Birgitta smiled. “Yes, owner.” Panam looked back at the man. “Two.” “Thank you.” Payment moved. Panam unclipped the leash. The man waited. Good. He didn't reach for Birgitta. Didn't assume. Panam liked that. “Go.” Birgitta stepped toward him. “Yes, owner.” The man offered his arm. Birgitta took it. They left. Panam watched until they disappeared. Suzie appeared beside her. “You just approved two hours.” “Yes.” “Yesterday you barely approved ninety minutes.” “Yes.” Suzie waited. Panam looked at her. “What?” “Nothing.” “Everyone says that when they're being annoying.” Suzie smiled. “You're not following rules.” “I told you I don't have rules.” “You're making judgments.” Panam looked toward the private rooms. “Yes.” “That is harder.” Panam thought about it. Then shrugged. “She's not a fucking vending machine.” Suzie nodded. “Exactly.” --- Forty minutes into the booking, someone approached. A woman. Young corpo. Confident. “Madame.” Panam sighed. “What?” “Birgitta working tonight?” “Yes.” “I'd like next.” Panam looked at her. “No.” The woman blinked. “Why?” “She's already booked for two hours.” “After.” “No.” “She's done after?” “I didn't say that.” The woman frowned. “Then why no?” Panam considered whether she actually owed an explanation. She decided she didn't. “No.” The woman stared. Panam stared back. Eventually: “Okay.” She walked away. Suzie had seen. “So why no?” Panam looked at her. “Because I don't know how Birgitta will feel after two hours.” Suzie nodded. “I could have reserved her.” “No.” “Why?” “Because then I've committed her before I know if she's tired.” Suzie smiled. Panam frowned. “What?” “Nothing.” “Fuck you.” --- Birgitta returned after exactly two hours. Panam had checked the time only seven times. Improvement. Birgitta walked directly toward her. Panam stood. Birgitta stopped. Panam looked at her before touching the leash. “Good?” “Very.” “Tired?” “A little.” Panam clipped her in. Click. “Sit.” Birgitta sat beside the bar. “Water.” Suzie already had it ready. Birgitta drank. Panam waited. No questions for a few minutes. No customers. No decisions. Just rest. Eventually Birgitta leaned her head lightly against Panam's side. Panam looked down. “Food?” “In a little while.” “Good.” The young corpo from earlier noticed Birgitta had returned. She started toward them. Panam saw her. Raised one finger. The woman stopped. Panam pointed toward the room. Not yet. The woman hesitated. Then nodded and moved away. Birgitta had watched the entire exchange. “You didn't even let her ask.” “No.” “Why?” “You're resting.” Birgitta smiled. “My owner.” Panam touched the leash. “My pet.” --- Ten minutes later, Panam asked: “Working?” Birgitta looked up. That made both of them pause. Then Birgitta laughed. Panam stared. “What?” “You asked me.” “So?” “Nothing.” “Do you want another client or not?” Birgitta considered herself. Actually considered. “Yes.” Panam nodded. “Good.” She looked across the room. Found the young corpo. Made eye contact. Crooked one finger. The woman came over. Birgitta's eyebrows rose. Panam ignored her. “Still interested?” “Yes.” Panam looked at Birgitta. Birgitta looked the woman over more carefully now. Then smiled. “Yes.” “Thirty-two,” Panam said. The woman nodded. “One hour.” “Fine.” Payment moved. Panam unclipped the leash. The woman looked at Birgitta. “Ready?” Birgitta looked at Panam. Panam nodded. “Go.” “Yes, owner.” They left. Panam sat down. Suzie stared. Panam saw. “What?” “You summoned a customer.” “I did not summon her.” “You crooked your finger.” “She was waiting.” Suzie slowly nodded. “Madame.” Panam pointed at her. “Fuck off.” --- The next customer failed in less than thirty seconds. He approached while Birgitta was away. “Madame.” Panam ignored it. “How much for Birgitta?” “Thirty-two.” “Twenty-five.” “No.” “Twenty-eight.” “No.” “Thirty?” “No.” “Cash equivalent?” “No.” “Thirty-two and she stays longer?” “No.” He laughed. “You're not much of a negotiator.” “I'm not negotiating.” That stopped him. Panam took a drink. The man remained. “Everything has a price.” Panam looked at him. “She has a rate.” “Same thing.” “No.” The man frowned. Panam put down the glass. “Price is what you think you can buy something for.” She nodded toward the private rooms. “Rate is what she charges for her time.” The man studied her. “Thirty-two.” “Yes.” “One hour.” “If she wants you.” That seemed to surprise him. “If?” “Yes.” “I pay.” “If she wants you.” The man looked annoyed. Panam made the decision before Birgitta returned. “No.” “What?” “No.” “You haven't asked her.” “Don't need to.” “Why?” “Because you're annoying me.” The man stared. Then laughed. “You're serious.” “Yes.” He walked away. Suzie appeared. Panam groaned. “Don't.” Suzie raised both hands. “Wasn't going to.” “Bullshit.” “Little bit.” --- When Birgitta returned, Panam clipped the leash on. “Good?” “Yes.” “Tired?” “No.” “Some asshole tried to haggle you down.” Birgitta looked offended. “How far?” “Twenty-five.” Birgitta gasped. “The indignity.” Panam smiled despite herself. “I told him no.” “To the price?” “To him.” Birgitta blinked. “You rejected him?” “Yes.” “Without asking me?” “Yes.” “Why?” “He annoyed me.” Birgitta stared at her. Then began laughing. Panam frowned. “What?” “Nothing.” “Birgitta.” “You rejected a client because he annoyed my owner.” “Yes.” Birgitta stepped closer. “That may be the hottest thing you've done all week.” Panam stared. Birgitta leaned closer. “And that is a competitive category.” Suzie abruptly walked away. “Coward!” Panam called after her. Suzie raised one hand without turning. Birgitta was still laughing. Panam tugged the leash. “Behave.” Birgitta immediately stepped closer and quieted. Panam looked at her. Birgitta looked back. The laughter remained in her eyes. But she had obeyed. Instantly. Panam felt that familiar little shift. Responsibility. Trust. Authority. And, increasingly inconveniently— pleasure. Not sexual. Not only. Something simpler. Birgitta had given her something valuable. Decision. And Panam liked being trusted with it. --- Later, a woman approached. Very attractive. Birgitta noticed. Panam noticed Birgitta noticing. The woman smiled at Birgitta. Birgitta smiled back. Then the woman looked at Panam. “Madame.” Panam didn't correct her. “Thirty-two?” “Yes.” “One hour?” “Yes.” “Could I ask Birgitta something first?” Panam nodded. “Of course.” The woman turned. “Dinner before?” Birgitta looked surprised. Interested. Panam said nothing. This wasn't hers yet. Birgitta asked: “Here?” “Nearby.” “How long?” “Dinner, then the hour.” Birgitta considered. Then looked at Panam. Now it was hers. Panam thought. “Where?” The woman named a restaurant. Panam knew it. Public. Good reputation. Close. “When?” “Now.” Panam looked at Birgitta. “You want to?” “Yes.” “Then fine.” The woman smiled. Panam held up one finger. “Two hours total. If dinner runs long, that's your problem. Her hour doesn't.” The woman nodded. “Fair.” “And she messages when you get there.” “Of course.” Birgitta's expression softened. Again. Care hidden inside control. Panam unclipped the leash. Then handed it to Birgitta. Birgitta blinked. “Take it.” Birgitta took the leash. Panam looked at the woman. “She keeps that.” The woman nodded. No question. Good. Panam touched Birgitta's collar. “Message me.” “Yes, owner.” “Go.” Birgitta kissed her cheek. Then left. --- Panam stood watching the door after they disappeared. Suzie came beside her. “You like this.” Panam did not answer. Suzie waited. Panam sighed. “I like knowing what's happening.” “Mm.” “I like knowing she's safe.” “Mm.” “I like deciding when people are full of shit.” “Definitely.” Panam looked at her. “And I like saying no.” Suzie laughed. “There it is.” Panam smiled. Just a little. “Yeah.” Suzie looked toward the door. “Gatekeeper.” Panam considered the word. That one didn't bother her. “Maybe.” “Better than Madame?” “Yes.” “Shame.” Panam looked at her. Suzie smiled. “Night City already voted.” “Night City can go fuck itself.” “Very Madame.” “Fuck you.” --- Birgitta messaged from the restaurant. **Here.** Panam replied. **Good. Eat.** Three dots appeared. Then: **Yes, owner.** Panam stared at the message. Suzie noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” Suzie smiled. Panam put the holo away. For once, nothing was exactly the right answer. --- When Birgitta returned two hours later, Panam was waiting near the bar. Birgitta came through the door alone. Leash in her hand. Smiling. She walked straight to Panam. Stopped. And held out the leash. Panam looked at it. Then at Birgitta. Birgitta waited. Panam took it. Clipped it to the collar. Click. Birgitta exhaled. Panam felt the same little settling inside herself. “Good?” “Very.” “Dinner?” “Excellent.” “Client?” “Excellent.” “Tired?” “Yes.” “Then done.” Birgitta smiled. “Yes, owner.” No disappointment. No argument. Panam shortened the leash. “We're going home.” Birgitta stepped closer. Suzie watched them. So did several others. Someone called: “Night, Madame!” Panam lifted one hand. This time she didn't tell them to fuck off. Birgitta noticed. Of course she did. They reached the door. Birgitta smiled up at her. “You didn't correct them.” Panam opened the door. “I was conserving energy.” “Of course.” “For important things.” “Obviously.” Panam tugged the leash gently. “Come, pet.” Birgitta followed her outside. “Yes, owner.” Behind them, Lizzie's kept the public name. Outside, Panam kept the leash. And somewhere during the last few nights, without meaning to, she had stopped merely tolerating the job. She liked it. That was probably going to become a problem. --- ## CHAPTER 21 — NOT JUST WORK On the sixth morning, Panam woke before Birgitta. That was unusual enough to make her suspicious. She lay still for a while. Birgitta slept beside her, one hand beneath the pillow, the other resting between them. Collar still around her neck. Panam looked at it. Six days. The first days had felt like an experiment. Commands. Choices. The leash. Seeing what happened when Panam stopped asking questions that did not need to be questions. Then Lizzie's. Working? Thirty-two thousand. Access. Rest. Water. Food. No. Yes. Come back. And somewhere in the middle of all that, people had started calling her Madame. Idiots. Panam looked at Birgitta. Birgitta shifted slightly in her sleep. Panam smiled. Then stopped smiling because nobody was there to see it and therefore there was no reason to deny it. She liked this. Fuck. --- Birgitta woke twenty minutes later. She opened her eyes. Saw Panam looking at her. Smiled. “Morning.” “Morning.” Birgitta stretched. Panam watched. Then: “Stay.” Birgitta stopped halfway through getting up. She looked at Panam. Panam got out of bed. Birgitta smiled. “Coffee?” “Yes.” “I didn't ask.” “I know.” Panam pointed at the bed. “Stay.” “Yes, owner.” Panam left. Birgitta settled back against the pillows. There was something absurdly luxurious about being perfectly capable of getting her own coffee and simply not doing it because Panam had decided she wouldn't. She heard cupboards. Water. Panam swearing quietly at something. Birgitta smiled at the ceiling. A few minutes later Panam returned with two mugs. She handed one over. “Thank you.” Panam climbed back into bed. Birgitta took a drink. Perfect. She looked at Panam. “What?” “You remembered.” “How you take coffee?” “Yes.” “Of course I remembered.” Birgitta said nothing. Panam frowned. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Birgitta smiled. “My owner remembers my coffee.” Panam rolled her eyes. “Six days. I'm not senile.” “Still.” “Drink.” “Yes, owner.” --- They stayed in bed longer than necessary. That too had become ordinary. Eventually Panam asked: “You working tonight?” Birgitta looked at her. “Do you want me to?” Panam frowned. “That's not what I asked.” Birgitta's smile appeared slowly. “No.” “No what?” “No, I don't want to work tonight.” Panam nodded. “Good.” Birgitta laughed. “What?” “I was going to say the same thing.” “You were?” “Yes.” “Why?” Panam considered. “Because we've spent enough nights at Lizzie's.” Birgitta waited. Panam sighed. “And because I want you.” Birgitta softened immediately. “For yourself?” “Yes.” Birgitta put down her coffee. Then moved closer. Panam touched the collar. “No bookings.” “No bookings.” “No customers.” “No customers.” “No Madame.” Birgitta paused. Panam noticed. “What?” Birgitta smiled. “Owner stays.” Panam's fingers remained against the collar. “Yes.” “My owner.” “My pet.” That settled it. --- They went out for breakfast. The leash came with them. Of course it did. Panam chose the place. Birgitta did not ask where they were going. That had stopped being remarkable somewhere around Day Four. Panam ordered first. Then ordered for Birgitta. Birgitta smiled. The server looked at the collar. Then the leash. Then Panam. Recognition appeared. Panam saw it. “No.” The server blinked. “I didn't say anything.” “Good.” Birgitta covered her mouth. The server looked between them. Then smiled. “Coffee?” “Yes,” Panam said. Birgitta waited. Panam looked at her. “Yes.” Birgitta smiled. “Please.” The server left. Panam stared. “You enjoyed that.” “Very much.” “You're terrible.” “Your pet.” “Unfortunately.” --- After breakfast they walked. No destination. Panam chose turns. Birgitta followed. At one intersection Panam stopped. Birgitta stopped. Panam looked left. Right. Then left again. Birgitta waited. “You know I have no idea where we're going.” “Yes.” “Do you?” “No.” Birgitta stared. Panam smiled. “Oh.” “You've been making decisions without a plan.” “Yes.” “Scandalous.” “Come.” Birgitta followed. They ended up at a market neither had intended to visit. Panam bought fruit. Rejected a jacket Birgitta liked. Approved a pair of gloves. Birgitta bought nothing without Panam knowing. Not because she couldn't. Because today she didn't want to. At one stall, Birgitta picked up a necklace. Cheap. Pretty. Panam looked at it. “No.” Birgitta put it down. The vendor stared. Birgitta smiled. “My owner has opinions.” Panam sighed. “Your owner has eyes.” The vendor laughed. Panam found a better necklace three stalls later. More expensive. Better made. She bought it. Birgitta stared at her. “What?” “You said no to mine.” “It was shit.” “And then bought me one.” “Yes.” Birgitta smiled. “Responsibility.” Panam rolled her eyes. “Don't make it weird.” “You made it expensive.” “Come.” “Yes, owner.” --- They ate lunch late. Panam chose. Birgitta approved by eating everything. Afterward they sat with coffee. For a while neither spoke. Then Birgitta said: “I thought the work part would change it.” Panam looked at her. “Change what?” “This.” Birgitta touched the collar. “The owner part.” “How?” “I didn't know.” She thought. “Maybe make it feel like performance.” Panam understood. “Because other people were watching.” “Yes.” “Customers.” “Yes.” “Money.” “Yes.” Panam took a drink. “Did it?” “No.” Birgitta smiled. “It made it clearer.” Panam frowned slightly. “How?” Birgitta considered. “At the apartment, I knew you were my owner because we decided that.” Panam nodded. “At the market, I knew because I followed you.” Another nod. “At Lizzie's…” Birgitta paused. “I could see it from outside.” Panam went quiet. “People came to you.” “Yes.” “They waited for your answer.” “Yes.” “You protected my breaks.” “Yes.” “You refused people.” “Yes.” “You remembered everything.” Panam shrugged. “That's the job.” Birgitta smiled. “Exactly.” Panam looked at her. The word sat between them. Job. Not employment. Not exactly. Responsibility. Panam looked down at the leash. “I liked it.” Birgitta's smile disappeared. Not because she was unhappy. Because Panam had said it plainly. “You did?” “Yes.” Panam looked irritated by the admission. “I liked deciding.” Birgitta waited. “I liked people having to come through me.” Birgitta's eyes brightened. “I liked saying no.” “I noticed.” “Shut up.” Birgitta smiled. Panam continued. “I liked knowing where you were.” The smile softened. “I liked knowing who you were with.” Panam looked at her. “And I liked especially when you came back.” Birgitta reached across the table. Panam took her hand and rubbed her thumb once across Birgitta’s knuckles, absent and familiar. No joke. No teasing. Just that. After a moment Birgitta said: “I liked coming back to you.” --- The afternoon became deliberately boring. That was good. Groceries. Apartment. Laundry. Panam nearly destroyed another expensive garment. Birgitta intervened. Panam objected that pets were not supposed to criticize their owners. Birgitta informed her that owners who murdered premium clothing deserved correction. Panam told her to sit. Birgitta sat. Then continued explaining laundry from the chair. Panam stared. Birgitta smiled. “You told me to sit. You didn't tell me to stop talking.” Panam considered. “Quiet.” Birgitta’s eyebrows rose. “If you want my mouth occupied, owner, there are more entertaining methods.” Panam went completely still. Birgitta smiled with angelic innocence. “Later,” Panam said. Birgitta’s expression changed instantly. “Oh.” “Quiet.” Birgitta's mouth closed. Panam returned to the laundry. Thirty seconds. A minute. Two. Panam looked over. Birgitta was sitting exactly where she'd been told. Silent. Smiling. Panam sighed. “You can talk.” “Thank you.” “You're unbearable.” “Your pet.” “Yes.” That answer came automatically now. Birgitta noticed. So did Panam. Neither commented. --- Dinner was simple. Panam cooked. Birgitta was allowed to cut vegetables after promising not to turn the kitchen into an argument about ownership. She lasted seven minutes. Panam sent her back to the table. After dinner they watched half a movie. Then stopped paying attention. Birgitta lay with her head in Panam's lap. Panam's fingers moved idly through her hair. The leash was on the table. Not needed. The collar was enough. Birgitta looked up. “Owner.” “Mm?” “Would you do it again?” Panam's hand stopped. “What?” “Lizzie's.” Panam looked down at her. Birgitta waited. Not teasing. Not fishing. Panam thought about the question. The customers. The money. The stupid name. The waiting. The decisions. The leash returning to her hand after every booking. Birgitta coming back. “Yes.” Birgitta smiled. Panam resumed stroking her hair. “Would you?” “Yes.” No hesitation. Panam's expression softened. “Good.” Birgitta closed her eyes. A few seconds passed. Then: “Madame.” Panam's hand stopped. Birgitta opened one eye. “No.” Birgitta laughed. Panam pinched her lightly. “Owner.” “Much better.” “My owner.” “My pet.” --- Later, in bed, Birgitta lay close against her. Tomorrow existed. Neither mentioned it. Not yet. Panam knew the week had edges. Birgitta knew it too. But tonight wasn't an edge. Tonight was simply another night in the apartment that no longer felt like somewhere Birgitta was visiting. Panam touched the collar. “Sleep.” Birgitta smiled against her shoulder. “Yes, owner.” A few minutes later, Panam thought Birgitta had already fallen asleep. Then Birgitta spoke quietly. “I'm glad you liked it.” Panam stared into the dark. “So am I.” Birgitta's hand settled against her. Panam covered it with her own. There was no audience. No customer. No money. No Madame. Just owner. Pet. And the quiet certainty that Lizzie's had not been a stunt they would laugh about once and never repeat. They would do it again. Neither of them knew when. That was fine. For now, knowing there would be an again was enough. --- ## CHAPTER 22 — TWO WEEKS The seventh morning began exactly the way the sixth had. Panam woke first. Birgitta woke to coffee. “Stay.” “Yes, owner.” Coffee arrived. Birgitta accepted it with the increasingly smug expression of a woman who had discovered that obedience came with room service. Panam noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “That face is not nothing.” Birgitta took a slow drink. “My owner brings me coffee in bed.” “Your owner is reconsidering.” “No, she isn't.” Panam stared at her. Birgitta smiled into the mug. No. She wasn't. --- They stayed in bed until Panam decided they had stayed there long enough. “Up.” Birgitta got up. “Shower.” Birgitta headed toward the bathroom. Panam watched her take three steps. “Pet.” Birgitta stopped and looked back. Panam picked up the leash. Birgitta started laughing. “Seriously?” Panam clipped it to the collar. “Yes.” “You're going to walk me six meters again.” “Yes.” “This is ridiculous.” “Come.” Birgitta came. Panam walked her to the bathroom. Unclipped the leash. Birgitta stood in the doorway. “Was that necessary?” “No.” “Good.” The door closed. Panam heard Birgitta laughing through it. She smiled. This had become alarmingly normal. --- Breakfast followed the same pattern. Panam chose. Birgitta ate. Birgitta attempted to steal something from Panam's plate. Panam slapped her hand away. “Mine.” Birgitta looked at Panam. Then at the food. Then back at Panam. “Interesting choice of word.” “Don't.” Birgitta grinned. Panam pointed at her plate. “Eat your own.” “Yes, owner.” A few minutes passed. Birgitta ate. Panam ate. Then Birgitta said: “Oh. By the way.” Panam looked up. “I've got a corpo companion job.” “When?” “Tomorrow.” Panam nodded. “How long?” “About two weeks.” Panam stopped chewing. “Two weeks.” “Yeah.” Panam looked at her for a moment. Then nodded. “Okay.” And that was it. Almost. Birgitta watched her. “You're going to miss me.” “No.” “Liar.” “Eat.” Birgitta smiled. “Yes, owner.” Panam picked up her fork again. Two weeks. Fine. It was a job. Birgitta had jobs. Panam knew that. She also knew she was going to miss her. She wasn't giving Birgitta the satisfaction of hearing it yet. --- They went out afterward. There was no plan. That had become one of Birgitta's favorite kinds of plan. Panam held the leash. Panam chose the direction. Birgitta followed. At the first intersection, Birgitta asked: “Where are we going?” Panam looked at her. “I don't know.” “Excellent.” “You asked.” “I wanted to know if you knew.” “I don't.” “Then I know everything you know.” Panam tugged the leash. “Walk.” “Yes, owner.” They wandered. Coffee. A market. A small shop Panam entered because something in the window caught her attention. Another coffee because Birgitta claimed the first one had been too small. Panam informed her that this was objectively false. Birgitta got the second coffee anyway. At some point Panam realized they had been walking for more than an hour without Birgitta once choosing where they went. Not because she couldn't. Not because she had to follow. She simply did. Panam turned left. Birgitta turned left. Panam stopped. Birgitta stopped. Panam looked at her. Birgitta raised an eyebrow. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Panam smiled. “Come.” Birgitta followed. --- Lunch was Panam's choice. Of course. They sat outside. The leash lay loosely across Panam's thigh. Birgitta ate. Panam watched the street. Neither spoke about tomorrow for a while. Eventually Birgitta did. “I'll miss this.” Panam looked at her. “The food?” “No.” “The coffee?” “No.” “The city?” Birgitta lifted the leash slightly with one finger. “This.” Panam looked at it. Then at the collar. Then at Birgitta. “Two weeks.” “Yeah.” “And then?” Birgitta smiled. “Again.” The answer came without hesitation. Panam's fingers closed around the leash. “Again.” That was enough. --- The rest of the day was almost aggressively ordinary. Groceries. Home. Birgitta sat on the kitchen counter. Panam told her to get down. Birgitta got down. Then sat on the table. Panam stared. “You told me to get off the counter.” “Chair.” Birgitta moved to the chair. “Better?” “Yes.” “Good.” Panam stopped. Birgitta smiled sweetly. “Did my pet just praise me?” “Maybe.” “Don't.” Birgitta laughed. Panam cooked. Birgitta talked. Panam occasionally told her to be quiet. Birgitta occasionally obeyed for almost an entire minute. It was, Panam decided, probably the best she was going to get. --- After dinner they ended up on the couch. Birgitta's head rested in Panam's lap. Panam's fingers moved through her hair. The collar remained around Birgitta's neck. The leash was coiled beside them. Tomorrow was there now. Not threatening. Just present. Birgitta looked up. “Owner.” “What?” “Did you think this would happen?” Panam laughed once. “No.” “Which part?” “All of it.” Birgitta smiled. “The collar?” “No.” “The leash?” “No.” “Ordering me around?” Panam considered. “That part isn't entirely surprising.” Birgitta laughed. “Madame?” “Fuck off.” The laughter became worse. Panam waited. Eventually Birgitta recovered. “Sorry.” “No, you're not.” “No.” Panam resumed stroking her hair. Birgitta became quiet. Not because she had been told to this time. Because Panam’s fingers had found the slow, familiar path along her scalp that had been putting her half to sleep for three nights now. Then: “I liked this week.” Panam's hand slowed. “So did I.” “I liked being your pet.” Panam looked down at her. “I liked having you as my pet.” Birgitta smiled. There was no joke after that. None needed. Panam's hand moved from Birgitta's hair to the side of her face. Birgitta turned into the touch. Then kissed her palm. Panam looked at her for a long moment. “Bed.” Birgitta's smile changed. “Yes, owner.” --- The leash stayed behind. The collar didn't. Panam closed the bedroom door behind them. Birgitta turned toward her. For a moment they simply stood there. Seven days had changed the way Birgitta waited. She didn't become passive. She didn't become smaller. She simply gave Panam the space to decide what happened next. Panam stepped closer. “Come here.” Birgitta did. Panam kissed her. Slowly at first. No hurry. No audience. No Madame. No customers waiting outside a door. Just the two of them and one last night before an irritatingly long two weeks. Birgitta's hands settled around Panam's waist. Panam's fingers found the collar. Birgitta smiled against her mouth. “My owner.” “My pet.” Panam kissed her again. Longer. Then began guiding her backward. Birgitta followed. The backs of her knees touched the bed. Panam stopped. “Sit.” Birgitta sat. Panam remained standing in front of her. Birgitta looked up. That alone was enough to change the air between them. Panam touched her face. Birgitta kissed her fingers. “Good.” Birgitta's eyes closed for half a second. Panam noticed. Of course she noticed. She had learned exactly what that word did. She used it again. “Good pet.” Birgitta opened her eyes. “You're doing that on purpose.” “Yes.” “Menace.” Panam raised an eyebrow. Birgitta smiled. “My menace.” “Careful.” “Yes, owner.” Panam laughed softly. Then kissed her again. --- There was no experiment tonight. Nothing to prove. Nothing new they needed to discover. Panam simply took her time. Birgitta let her. Clothes disappeared gradually. Kisses became slower, then hungrier, then slow again. Panam guided. Birgitta followed. Panam’s hand slid to Birgitta’s knee first. Birgitta opened for her before any instruction came, the answer physical and unmistakably willing. Only then did Panam move lower. Birgitta understood immediately what she intended. Her hand found Panam's hair. Panam looked up. Birgitta's expression softened. “You don't have to—” “Quiet.” Birgitta's mouth closed. Panam smiled. There was nothing hesitant in her face. Nothing performed. Just the calm confidence of somebody who had spent a week learning exactly when Birgitta needed a question and when she needed Panam to stop asking one. “Yes, owner.” Panam took care of her pet. Patiently. Thoroughly. Birgitta's teasing lasted less than a minute. Then words became harder. Panam knew when to slow down. When to make her wait. When not to. She had spent a week learning Birgitta's reactions in a dozen different ways. Tonight she used what she had learned simply to make her feel good. Birgitta's hand tightened in the sheets. Panam held her steady. “Wait.” Birgitta made a frustrated sound. Panam smiled. “Owner…” “Wait.” Birgitta obeyed. Barely. Panam let the stillness stretch. Then: “Now.” The reaction was immediate. Birgitta's body tightened, then trembled as pleasure finally broke through the restraint Panam had held her inside. Panam stayed with her through it. No hurry. No moving away the instant the moment passed. Birgitta slowly relaxed. Her breathing settled. Panam kissed her thigh. Then rested there for a moment. Not moving on. Not turning the release into a full stop. Birgitta’s fingers loosened slowly from the sheet and found Panam’s hair again, gentler now. Birgitta looked down at her. A lazy smile appeared. “Come here.” Panam looked up. “That sounded suspiciously like an order.” “It was a request.” “Poorly phrased.” Birgitta held out a hand. “Please, owner.” “Better.” Panam came back up beside her. Birgitta kissed her. Once. Twice. Then rolled toward her. Panam immediately recognized the expression. “No.” Birgitta blinked. “No?” “You're staying there.” Birgitta stared at her. Panam smiled. “My pet.” Birgitta smiled back. “Yes, owner.” She stayed. For approximately ten seconds. Then she said: “Two weeks.” Panam narrowed her eyes. “Don't use that against me.” “I'm absolutely using that against you.” “Pet.” “Owner.” Panam stared at her. Birgitta's expression was innocent enough to be criminal. Then she moved closer. “Your turn.” “Birgitta—” “Two weeks.” Panam groaned. “You are such a fucking menace.” Birgitta kissed her. “Your menace.” That did it. Panam laughed. And stopped arguing. Birgitta kissed her again, then moved slowly lower rather than disappearing from one beat and reappearing in the next. Panam’s hand found her hair on the way, not directing, not stopping—just answering the choice. Their eyes met once before Birgitta continued. --- Birgitta was no less patient. That was the problem. Panam had expected revenge. Teasing. Something deliberately unbearable. Instead Birgitta took her time. Slow enough that Panam realized exactly what she was doing. “Pet.” Birgitta looked up. “Yes, owner?” Panam stared at her. Birgitta smiled. Then continued. Panam's head fell back. “Fuck.” The smile became impossible to miss. “Don't get smug.” Birgitta did not answer. Which was somehow worse. Panam opened one eye. “You are smug.” Birgitta’s only answer was a deliberately innocent look. “Menace.” Panam's hand found her hair. Birgitta kept going. No rush. No performance. Just attention. Panam's breathing changed. Birgitta noticed. Adjusted. Panam closed her eyes. “Good.” Birgitta paused just long enough to look up again. Panam saw what the praise did even now. Then Birgitta returned to what she was doing. Panam's control lasted longer than Birgitta's had. Not much longer. When pleasure finally overtook her, Birgitta stayed exactly where she was until the tension left Panam's body and her grip softened. Then she climbed back up. Panam caught her halfway. Pulled her close. They kissed. Neither moved away. For a while there was only breathing. Warm skin. Birgitta's collar beneath Panam's fingers. The faint ridiculous awareness that tomorrow morning there would be no pet in this bed. Birgitta settled against her. Panam wrapped both arms around her, one hand finding the collar by habit and then sliding into Birgitta’s hair along the same slow path that had become theirs on the couch. Neither spoke. The stillness mattered. Eventually Birgitta murmured: “Satisfied?” Panam opened one eye. “Very.” Birgitta smiled. “Should I put that on my performance review?” Panam stared at her. “Try it and your next review is going to be conducted with the leash.” Birgitta’s eyes lit. “That is not the deterrent you think it is.” “Good.” Panam pinched her. Birgitta laughed against her shoulder. “You?” Birgitta lifted her head. “Very.” “Good.” This time neither of them laughed. Birgitta kissed her once more. Softly. Then settled back down. --- Much later, with the room dark and Birgitta curled against her, Panam said: “Two weeks.” Birgitta smiled. “You keep saying that.” “I know.” “You'll survive.” “I know.” “You can message me.” “I know.” Birgitta lifted her head. “Every day, if you want.” Panam looked at her. “Every day.” “Okay.” Panam touched the collar. Birgitta covered her hand with her own. “Then again.” Panam's expression softened. “Again.” “Promise?” Panam frowned. “You think I'm getting rid of you that easily?” Birgitta smiled. “No.” “Good.” “My owner.” “My pet.” Panam pulled her closer. “Sleep.” “Yes, owner.” --- Morning came. Birgitta dressed. Her bag was already waiting. Panam made coffee. Birgitta drank it standing at the kitchen counter. Neither of them made the departure bigger than it was. Two weeks. That was all. When Birgitta was ready, she walked to Panam. Panam reached for the leash. Unclipped it. Then her fingers went to the collar. Birgitta stood still. The buckle opened. The collar came away. Panam held it for a moment. Then placed it beside the leash. Birgitta touched the bare skin at her throat. Panam looked at her. “Come here.” Birgitta came. Panam kissed her. Long enough that two weeks briefly became an irritating concept all over again. When they separated, Birgitta stayed close. “My owner.” “My pet.” Birgitta smiled. “Temporarily off duty.” Panam snorted. “Go do your job.” “Yes, owner.” Birgitta picked up her bag. At the door, she turned. Panam was still standing beside the table. Collar. Leash. Waiting there. Birgitta looked at them. Then at Panam. “Again?” Panam smiled. “Again.” Birgitta left. The door closed. Panam stood there for a moment. Then her holo chimed. She looked down. **Birgitta: Miss me yet?** Panam stared at it. Typed: **No.** The reply came immediately. **Liar.** Panam smiled. Two weeks. Then again.