EVE Fiction

The bar is crowded and choked with smoke as I enter. Some post-grunge Matari folksong plays from unseen speakers and the mood of the room is upbeat - bustling even - in spite of the oppressive smoke; typical Hek. A short Sebiestor waves at me from a corner table. My contact. I shoulder my way into the crowd and emerge at his table a moment latter.

“Why do Amarrians never ‘ave sex standing up?” He smirks, starting in with that thuggish pretend accent of his before I have time to sit. As for the ‘joke,’ I’ve heard this one before.

”They’re afraid it might lead to dancing.” I reply with more humor in my voice than in my head.

”Aha!” he laughs, getting out of his chair and shaking my hand excitedly. “I knew there was a reason I liked you, Hank. Glad ye’ could make it all way the out ‘ere.” Jack is one of the few people in the cluster who knows me by my first name; so far he’s the only person in the cluster with the nuts to call me by it.

I give him a strong pat on the back. “You know me, Jackie. Anything for an old friend.”

He widens his trademark smirk and narrows his eyes, giving me the usual inspection as we sit. “Still think ye’ can make the roguish look work, I see. Too bad…”

I challenge him with a defensive half-smile, but shallow my retort as our heavily-pierced Vherokior waitress arrives. “How are you boys doin’ tonight?”

“Fine, thanks. But a few drinks might make it finer.” Jack smiles lecherously as he gives her a long, appraising look; no tact as usual.

“You bet, what can I get for you, handsome?” I play idly with my napkin for a moment before realizing she’s talking to me. “Hmm? Oh, uh… whiskey. Whatever’s good here.” A smirk gloatingly at Jack. Roguish looks: one. Sebiestor sarcasm: zero.

“Sure thing, hun.” she beams at me before turning to my friend. “And for you dear?” He frowns, arms folded. “Rum an’ Quafe for me, Love.”

The waitress assures us she’ll be back in a moment and glides off into the smoke.

”Ehh…” Jack groans lightly, prempting any attempt I might make to brag. ”I should’a had her hold the Quafe…” He pauses, taking an indulgently long moment to watch her leave. “So… life in the pod still glamorous as ever, is it?”

I shrug. “It has it’s moments. Nothin’ like the good old days, though.”

He snorts. “The good ol’ days, huh? Well I know you don’t mean your time in intelligence. I ever tell you ‘ow much sleep I lost on account a’ being yer bloody snitch?”

“Only every time you see me…” I half-moan. Here we go...

“As I damn well should- Oh, thanks sweet’art.” The waitress delivers our drinks, interrupting his thought. Saved by the booze. “If the ‘Pentis ‘ad found out-" Or not. "-I was feedin’ you yer f****n’ ‘status reports’ every second tuesday, we’d be ‘avin this drink in a jet can halfway te the next star system.” Time to change the subject.

“Speaking of Serpentis… I could use your ‘expertise’ on a prescription I picked up…” I pull the neatly censored bottle out of my vest and slide it across the table.

“Havin’ trouble getting’ yer Willie up, is it?” he asks without looking at it, prompting me to cough a sip of whiskey back into my glass.

“My ‘Willie‘ is doing fine, thanks.” I try the sip again, stealing enough time to formulate a natural lie. “Anyway, they aren’t mine. They’re related to a case I’m workin’. Freelance.”

He gives me a long, skeptical look before picking up the bottle and giving it a cursory examination. Jackie has always been good at reading people, but I’ve always been the better liar.

“Antidepressants.” He says it almost immediately. When it comes to drugs, the man has a gift.

“How can you tell?”

“See here?” he leans over the table, pointing at a fine line of print. “The active agent is a compound of Lithium. Depression’s about the only reason fer’a bloke to put anythin’ that volatile into his system. Well, fer purposes other than recreational, in any case…” He winks.

“Right… Side effects?”

“’Scrips ain’t exactly my specialty, but nausea, headache, diarrhea… those are all standard issue with most drugs. As fer antidepressants in general? One can look forward to an ironically high increase in suicide risk and what I imagine are rather counter-productive bouts of erectile dysfunction.” Goody.

I cover my look of distaste with a gulp of whiskey as he passes the bottle back to me.

“I notice there’s a risk when takin’ them with alcohol.” I say, whipping my mouth.

He shakes his head. “Not exactly a risk ‘per se‘, but alcohol will pretty well cancel any positive effect those pills might ‘ave.” I collect the bottle reluctanty from the table and drop it back into my vest pocket. I guess it’s only fair he be the one to bear bad news for once.

Across the table Jack indulges in a long belt of rum, practically moaning as the amber liquid disappears. “Ah…” He punctuates the sigh of satisfaction by bringing the empty glass down with a thud. “Well then, shall we get down to business?"

The only feedvack I can give you isn't very constructive, but it is encouraging. I don't really see anything wrong with this so far. Keep it up.

Really love it so far, please keep writing. :)