Page 11 of Static/Cling
“But I’m serious,” Bjorn said after a minute. “I’m dangerous otherwise. Only reason I’m not going around accidentally zapping everything and everyone is because of you.”
“Not true.” Leif turned himself so he was sitting cross-legged and facing Bjorn. “You’re fine even without me.”
“No.”
“Bjorn—”
Bjorn got up. “I’m going to bed.” If this whole superhero thing was Leif thinking about getting rid of him, he didn’t want to know.
“Bjorn!”
“Night.”
He went into the bedroom and closed the door. Most nights Leif slept on the couch anyway. This was the first time Bjorn deliberately shut him out.
CHAPTER 3
THE WORKPLACE
Kassian did not arrive at the office any earlier than normal. Well. Only ten—okay, fifteen—minutes early. And he wasn’t there early because he’d been too restless to stay home and wait for his normal departure time. He hadn’t been restless because he’d been unable to sleep. He hadn’t been unable to sleep because he kept thinking of the new recruits.
He hadn’tbeenthinking about the new recruits.
Well. Okay, he had. But only because he’d been trying to figure out how to save the computers from the big, dumb, pretty idiot.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered as he juggled his coffee and the cardboard box he carried so he could punch in the key code to get into the offices.
“Keep telling yourself you’re not interested, buddy.” A snicker echoed in his brain, but he shrugged it aside with the weight of the door as he pushed inside.
The box made a solid thump when he dropped it onto the conference table, glad to be rid of it after having to carry it up three flights of stairs. Or four. Or however many it was.
The only light in the room came from the lamp on April’s desk. It didn’t seem to illuminate anything beyond her wooden office dividers.
He flicked on the rest of the lights, raised the blinds and booted up the computer system. “I am not interested.”
“Hello-oo!” April’s voice hit a register that vibrated the dust motes swimming in the rays of morning sun now streaming in the windows.
Kassian shuddered and closed his eyes. He had hoped she’d turned the running of the office back over to Sal. Things always ran smoother when Sal was in charge.
“Hey, boss.”
“Not your boss.” He heard rustling from behind her screen as he settled into his chair to log in, then her voice was much closer. The baffle behind his chair creaked. She liked to lean on it. “I’m just the recruitment gal. Have you finished the computer modifications? Sal said something about electric—I don’t know. Things.”
“Better.” He waved at the box.
“What’s that?”
“Made him a suit.”
“A what, now?” Another creak of the old, disgusting baffle, and he heard her open the box.
He kept his attention on his computer screen. He’d been chasing a worrisome communication packet through the back doors of various government systems he probably—no, definitely—should not have been in, and there was a notification that it had moved again.
As long as no one was opening it, he was content to follow its progress, wait, and see where it landed. And, okay sure, maybe he burned a few hard drives and dumped some cloud storages where it had been, but nothing really invasive or serious. Computers could be replaced. And if people relied solely on theircloud storage to save important information, it was not his fault they were that dumb.
“What does it do?” April asked, pulling him out of cyberspace and back to his physical surroundings.
“What does what do?”
