Keira leaned back on her palms, flexing her shoulders a little like she was getting used to the weight of the hoodie. The spiked fabric settled around her like it belonged there.
"So," she drawled, dragging the word out like she was testing the air, "is your hoodie one of those sacred items I gotta return before we cross the threshold?"
Void, still slouched against the workbench, turned her head lazily and blinked at her. Her shirt clung in soft folds to her frame, sleeves pushed halfway up her forearms, the black denim catching glimmers of her LED lighting system.
"You're already wearing it. If I really wanted it back, I'd just ask. Keep it."
Keira grinned, teeth just shy of a challenge. "Just wanted to hear you say it. Makes it more fun when I gloat."
Void rolled her eyes, pushing herself up to her feet with a quiet grunt. She padded over to her workbench, grabbed a hair tie off the surface and wordlessly pulled her hair into a loose knot. Keira's eyes didn't miss how her arms briefly trembled with the effort.
As Void moved toward the door, Keira tilted her head, expression sharpening just a bit.
"You seriously heading out like that?" she asked, gesturing at Void's outfit.
"What, it's just cold, not a nuclear winter." She paused. "Besides. You've got my only hoodie."
Keira stood up too, stretching like a cat. "Yeah, and I'm keeping it, as per your request. You? You may be hot as fuck, but even you're going to freeze your ass off in that weather. But hey - if the chill kills you, I'll finally have an excuse to steal your printer."
Void smirked as she opened the door, not looking back. "You'd have to fight Eitria for it. She bites."
Keira followed her out, hoodie sleeves swallowed over her hands. "Good. I bite harder. Might show you one night."
Void cracked the door behind her, the last stubborn creak echoing down the narrow stairwell of the building like it felt too old and tired to exist. The afternoon was making space for the evening slowly settling in, the sky a dull steel gray streaked with the fading warmth of a sun which still hadn't quite given up. The city's breath was steady, muted beneath the clatter of distant trams and the buzz of generators powering the buildings scattered through the neighborhood.
Keira fell into step beside her, hoodie up and hands buried deep in pockets, fingers tapping a restless rhythm. The fabric swallowed her lean frame like a steel veil - part rebellion, part comfort. Her hair, a deep scarlet mess flickering against the dim light, brushed her lashes as she glanced sideways at Void.
"You always throw things at walls when you're processing emotional trauma?" Keira's voice was casual, but there was that edge - the kind that said she knew exactly how bad Void's temper could get.
Void's jaw twitched. "Better the wall than my own skull this time."
"Progress," Keira teased, showing her teeth in a wide grin.
They pushed out onto the cracked pavement, the cold air biting through Void's thin shirt. The streetlights flickered on reluctantly, casting halos that blurred the edges of the wet sidewalks. Nearby, a street vendor was packing up a stall - metal shutters clanging down with a finality that sounded like the closing of a chapter. At least for this night.
Void's shoulders hunched slightly against the chill, but it wasn't the wind she flinched from. Her jaw worked, clenched tight like it was holding back something heavier than words. Then, without looking at Keira, she slipped her hand into the oversized pocket of the hoodie Keira "borrowed" quiet, awkward, almost apologetic. Her fingers found Keira's hand, already curled inside, and wrapped around. Like she'd been arguing with herself the whole walk, and finally lost.
Keira didn't react. She just let the silence sit there for a beat, heavy but welcome. Then she tilted her head slightly.
"Careful. That's how you catch feelings and frostbite."
Void didn't answer. She just held on a little tighter.
She balled her left hand into a fist against the cold and the memory of the morning's frustration. The phone had been the last straw - a messy tangle of anger and disappointment, shattered glass and lost contacts. She wasn't proud of smashing it, but sometimes the world just needed to hear that kind of noise.
Keira glanced around, her sharp eyes scanning the street signs and storefronts. "Mall's about a ten-minute walk from here. Still early enough to avoid the crowds, but not too early to miss the vibe, if you know what I mean."
Void nodded, her boots tapping steady on the concrete as they fell into a rhythm. She thought about how fast this city was changing - medical start-ups cropping up in old industrial spaces, glass facades replacing brick walls, new energy pulsing beneath the surface. In less than a decade. But the streets themselves still carried that rough, lived-in feel, like black scars telling Szczecin's long, tragic story.
They passed a small park where a cluster of kids were gathered around a battered holoboard, fingers swiping through pixelated images of synthetic plants and gene-edited pets. One girl looked up as they passed, eyes wide with a mixture of awe and maybe hope - or just the hunger to be a part of the future.
Keira nudged Void's arm. "You think any of this stuff really changes anything? Or is it just putting a shiny coat over the same old crap?"
Void shrugged, the weight of the question settling heavy in her chest. "Maybe both. But right now, I just need a phone that won't quit on me."
They kept walking, the city humming quietly around them. Holographic ads flickered faintly on storefront windows, advertising everything from gene patches to low-key mood stabilizers. The biotech revolution was still in its early days here - more hopeful than dystopian, but with enough cracks to remind you that progress always came with a price.
As they rounded a corner, the shopping mall's silhouette came into view - a building of steel, glass and concrete, its entrance marked by a giant, red, flickering neon sign spelling "GALAXY" that buzzed faintly in the evening air. The place was a strange mix of the old and new, with graffiti-tagged walls jostling for space alongside sleek posters boasting the latest in mechanical body augmentations.
Keira smirked. "Welcome to the cradle of tomorrow. Or at least, tomorrow's promise."
Void sighed, pushing the door open against the slight resistance of the automatic sensors. Inside, the air was warm and smelled faintly of chlorine - a usual smell in this kinds of place in the night, as janitors prepared the place for yet another day of work. Quiet conversations mingled with the soft clatter of footsteps, white noise of the huge illuminated water fountain in the middle, and the occasional beep of a barcode scanner.
They moved toward the phone kiosks - rows of devices neatly lined up like soldiers waiting for battle. The newest models gleamed with promise, slick glass and thin frames, but Void's eyes landed on a smaller, more rugged-looking device tucked into the corner - a "ROX Grit XC-12"
A woman behind the counter looked up, her eyes sharp but kind, framed by streaks of silver in her dark hair. "Looking for something tough, or something pretty?"
Void's lips twitched into a half-smile. "Tough. And something that won't die on me the second I get pissed off."
The woman chuckled. "You're in the right place then. These babies aren't about flash - they're about surviving real life."
Keira picked one up, weighing it in her hand. "Feels solid."
Void nodded, fingers closing around the phone with a quiet sense of relief. "Honest. I like honest." She put the device back on the counter.
The ROX Grit sat there like it knew it was hot shit. Blocky, no-nonsense design, matte finish with scratch-resistant coating, and a weight that said "go ahead, drop me - I fucking dare you." The sales rep gave it a little tap, fingers manicured, coated with a deep blue polish.
"Shock-resistant, waterproof, dustproof, mild EMP tolerance. Fifteen hundred."
Keira let out a dramatic pfffff and leaned forward, inspecting the device as if it just said something bad about her mother. "Fifteen hundred for a glorified brick? Sweetheart, if I wanted something this ugly, I'd just date another mechanic."
Clerk's smile didn't waver, but there was something in her gaze now. "And yet, it'll probably last longer than your previous ex."
Void stifled a laugh and tilted her head. "Okay. She's got bite. That's fair."
Keira grinned. "I like her. I still hate the price though."
"Shocking," the rep said. "You strike me as the kind of person who haggles over vending machine snacks."
Void slid her fingers along the counter. "Bet your ass she probably haggled with a street musician once," Void fired a shot in the dark. Surprisingly, she hit something. Or maybe Keira was just playing along...
"I gave him exposure," Keira said with mock offense. "Anyway. Fifteen is too steep. We're not looking to finance a neural assistant here, just something that won't explode if it's slightly offended."
The rep gestured to the display behind her. "There's a shelf of discount models to your left. Most of them cry when they touch concrete."
Keira leaned on the counter. "And this one?"
"This one judges you silently, then keeps working."
Void exhaled through her nose. "Look, we're not gonna dance around this for an hour. Seven flat."
The saleswoman raised a single brow. "Cute. But this isn't a flea market and I'm not your cousin with a trunk full of bootlegs."
Void met her stare, deadpan. "He's actually in cybercrime now. Really moving up."
Retailer smiled, tight. "I'm thrilled for him. Still - not changing the price."
Keira drummed her fingers. "Seven-fifty. We're being generous."
The seller blinked slowly. "Are you? Not every model comes with water-proofing like that."
Keira continued, rolling her eyes. "Then take the water-proofing out, what's the big deal?"
"But of course!" The rep said, faking joy. "I'll just take it in the back and ask it very nicely to stop resisting water. Maybe it'll agree if I buy it a drink."
Void stared at the cellular device with deep consternation, before looking back at the saleswoman. "Okay, so what's your actual floor? We both know this thing isn't worth fifteen. Even for these specs."
Vendor buckled. "Fourteen. But I appreciate directness, so I'll knock it down to thirteen-fifty."
Void treated that as an invitation to continue. "Nine. That's where I stand."
The rep gave a small, polite laugh - the kind that should always come with a warning label. "Oh, honey. That's where you're deluded. Thirteen-twenty-five."
Keira gave a low whistle. "She's savage."
Void pointed at her. "Don't. Encourage her."
Keira ignored that. "You ever get bored of working retail?"
The clerk shrugged. "Only when customers start imagining they're in a roleplaying game and charisma is their dump stat."
Void grinned. "Okay. Nine-fifty. And you throw in a TPU case."
"For that price? Hmm..." She paused, faking consideration. "I might throw you out of the store."
Void leaned forward, voice quieter now, but still sharp. "I could walk away. Keira's the one who does small-talk with streetlights."
Keira looked offended. "Only the ones that flicker. They're trying their best."
The rep gave them both a once-over. "You're both a menace. And I'm growing tired. Twelve-fifty."
"Thank you," Keira said sweetly. "Now - one grand. And I promise not to snag the case when you're not looking."
The rep exhaled through her nose. "Eleven-fifty and I won't call security after hearing this."
Void hesitated. "Ten-fifty's clean. Round. Tidy. I'll even let you pick the case color."
Keira leaned in, whispering loudly, "We both know she's going to pick black anyway."
The saleswoman looked Void dead in the eyes. "Eleven. And I stop pretending I don't want you both out of my sight."
Void pulled a face like she was seriously considering starting a second argument for fun. Then: "Ten-sixty."
"Ten-sixty-five."
"Ten-sixty, cash, and I don't write a review."
The salesrep arched a brow. "Ten-sixty, cash, and you write a good review."
Void narrowed her eyes. "That's blackmail."
"That's sales, sweetheart."
They stared each other down for a long moment, until Keira finally clapped her hands and pulled her wallet out. "Alright, girls, we've found our number. Everybody wins. Except your commission. Probably."
The woman handed over the bag, still all customer service professionalism, but now clearly restraining the urge to either laugh or stab something. "One ROX Grit. One matte black case. One receipt you'll pretend not to lose."
Void took it. "You're not bad at this."
Rep winked. "I'm terrifying."
Keira leaned in one last time. "I love you."
"No, you don't."
"I might."
"Get. Out."
Void grabbed Keira by the wrist and dragged her toward the door before she could flirt more. Over her shoulder, she called, "Thanks for surviving us!"
The rep didn't look up from her screen. "Barely."
Outside now, Keira reached out, looping her arm through Void's. "Not bad for the first night out together, huh?"
Void glanced at her, then pulled her closer, cold forgotten for a moment in the warmth of the touch. "Yeah. Not bad at all."