“Pretty savage stuff,” said Jad.

“Yeah, but pretty pointless.” Orr acquired the bottle from where it stood on the kitchen bar worksurface. “Those guys can’t re-sleeve anyway. It’s an article of faith for them.”

“Fucking freaks.” Jadwiga shrugged and lost interest. “Sylvie says you scored some ‘dorphs downstairs.”

“Yes, I did.” The giant poured himself a glass of whisky with exaggerated care. “Thanks.”

“Ahhh, Orr. Come on.”

Later, with the lights powered down and the atmosphere in the apartment mellowed almost to comatose proportions, Sylvie shoved Jadwiga’s slumped form out of the way on the lounger and leaned across to where I sat enjoying the lack of pain in my side. Orr had long ago slipped away to another room.

“You did that?” she asked quietly. “That stuff up at the citadel?”

I nodded.

“Any particular reason?”

“Yeah.”

A small silence.

“So.” she said finally. “It wasn’t quite the Micky Nozawa rescue it looked like, huh? You were already cranked up.”

I smiled, slightly stoned on the endorphin. “Call it serendipity.”

“Alright. Micky Serendipity, that’s got a ring to it.” She frowned owlishly into the depths of her glass, which, like the bottle, had been empty for a while. “Got to say, Micky, I like you. Can’t put my finger on it. But I do. I like you.”

“I like you too.”

She wagged a finger, maybe the one she couldn’t quite put on my likeable qualities. “This is not. Sex. You know?”

“I know. Have you seen the size of the hole in my ribs?” I shook my head muzzily. “Of course you have. Spectrochem vision chip, right?”

She nodded complacently.

“You really from a Renouncer family?”

A sour grimace. “Yeah. From being the operative word.”

“They’re not proud of you?” I gestured at her hair. “I’d have thought that qualifies as a pretty solid step on the road to Upload. Logically—”