When she fell asleep, it was morning. When she awoke, it was morning too. It was a different sort of morning, though. The bustle had evened out, and things seemed quieter now. Ravil was already wide awake.
"Ready to go?" he said. Deni rubbed her eyes. She had no idea what time it was, or how long she had slept.
"Yeah," she said, forcing herself to her feet.
"We'll get breakfast on the way out. We can avoid traffic if we leave right now."
"I said I'm going," Deni said. Together, the two of them sleepily scooped up all their luggage, packing it into Ravil's car. Ravil thanked the receptionist.
Ravil picked up an armful of cream cheese bagels at the nearby deli, and then, they were off.
The city they arrived in was noticeably different than North City. It was less subdued and business focused. The streets were lined with themed restaurants and bars with gaudy neon signs. The people were slower, and more casual than in North City, and more eccentrically dressed, but they were just as plentiful. Deni felt a strange sense of belonging in this place, even though she'd never been anywhere like it before.
Ravil parked his car out of another motel. He dipped inside briefly, to rent a room, before meeting Deni outside.
"Come on, let's go somewhere quieter," Ravil said, walking along the sidewalk. Deni followed behind him, he was right about it being loud. The square was filled with a chaotic mixture of contradictory music blasting from the doorway of each bar.
Deni followed behind him, trying not to get lost in the crowd. She wanted to stop, and take things in a bit more, maybe visit some of the bars, but she knew that Ravil wouldn't let that happen, not when they had work to do.
They came to the edge of the square, and then, turned a corner, and walked down the sidewalk. Cars blew past them at illegal speeds, but it was much quieter here, and they could talk.
"So, we need someone who makes fake IDs, right?" she said. "What's your plan for finding them? You're not just going to like, ask around and get into fights with gangsters like you did with me, right?"
Ravil shook his head.
"I'll let you take charge here. You're more familiar with the petty criminal community, you're more qualified for this than I am."
Ravil called her a "petty criminal" in such an endearing and complimentary way that Deni couldn't be offended by his words.
"Alright, well," she shrugged. "The Moonboys didn't really do fake IDs. We mostly just dealt drugs, robbed people, got into fights, stuff like that. But, I do have an idea."
"Go on," Ravil said. They passed by a busker as they continued down the sidewalk. He was drumming erratically to a song blaring out of the low quality speakers next to him. Ravil casually slipped a few Zeni into his cup.
"Well, like, I'm 19, right?"
"According to all of my records, yes," he said, smiling faintly.
"And there's a bunch of bars out here, right? I mean, most of the people with fake IDs are kids using them to get booze, right? So maybe there'll be some counterfeiter outside one of the bars, and if they see me get kicked out for being too young, maybe they'll offer me one, or something."
She shrugged.
"Not a bad idea," Ravil said. They reached the end of the block, and turned back. Ravil slipped some more Zeni into the busker's cup.
They arrived back at the square. Ravil twitched slightly as the onslaught of music began pounding away at his ears again.
"Alright, let's see…" Deni said. She went into the nearest bar, with Ravil waiting outside for her. He kept a deliberate distance from the door, so it didn't look like they were together. He lit himself a cigarette, and waited. There were other men leaning against the wall of the bar, having themselves a smoke or a drink. Ravil tried his best to avoid eye contact.
This bar was quieter, created to evoke the feeling of an old-school saloon. Deni burst through the door, and immediately, all eyes were on her. She was too young to be there, but she could pass for someone older fairly easily. Still, she knew it wasn't her age that drew their stares. It was her size, and possibly the distinct moon-shaped tattoo that was still on her cheek.
With a few exceptions, all of the patrons went back to whatever they were doing. A few gazes still lingered in Deni, however.
She tried to make her way to the counter as inconspicuously as possible, but the bar was tightly packed, and she ended up bumping into a few chairs.
Finally, she arrived at the counter. She sat herself down on a stool, and faced the bartender. He was a surly man, bald, and bulgy. He had a grey handlebar mustache, almost cartoonish in its size.
"One beer, please," she said. The bartender towered over her, although, she would've been taller than him if she wasn't sitting down.
"Do you have ID?" he asked.
"No," she said.
"Then I can't serve you here."
"Whatever," she said, throwing up her hands. She got up from her stool, and moved towards the door.
"So, do either of you know where I could get a fake ID?" Ravil said, turning to the two men next to him.
"What'd you need a fake ID for?" the drunker of the two said. "You're like, 100 years old."
"Just asking for a friend," he said.
Deni felt someone reach out and grab her wrist as she approached the door. A man in a leather jacket that smelled strongly of dust pulled her close to his face.
"Hey, missy," he said, his voice practically a mumble. "If you need yourself an ID, I know someone who could help."
"Thanks," Deni whispered back.
He released her wrist, and gave her an odd sort of smile. "I'll tell them about you. You don't need to worry about finding us, we'll come to you."
Deni made her way towards the door. She tried to squeeze through the narrow seats again, but this time, she ended up tripping. Her large body smashed into someone's table, sending it flying along with the food and drinks on top of it.
"Fuck, sorry," she said, picking herself up off of the putrid bar floor.
The man sitting at the table sprung up almost instantaneously, as if he had been waiting for someone to knock it over.
"No way, you ugly bitch," he said. "You don't just get to apologize. That was my beer!"
He was young, the second youngest in the bar, besides Deni herself. He had dirty blond hair, combed unappealingly to the side. He had what could be charitably called a mustache. In reality, it was a wispy line of blond strands spread across his upper lip. It was clearly a feeble, failed attempt to look older than he actually was.
"Hey, I said I'm sorry! What the fuck else do you want me to do?"
"I don't know," he said, voice slurred. "Maybe go fuck yourself, for a start."
Deni clenched her fists.
"Keep talking, asshole."
All eyes were on her again.
"Oh, I think I will, bitch. Fucking…" he trailed off. "Fucking, what the fuck are you, anyways? I didn't know they made women that tall or that broad."
"Well, now you know, asshole. And you should know better than to piss off someone twice your size." Her words were more warning than threat. She could take jabs at her appearance, but it would be unwise for him to push her any further.
She saw his bleary, drunken gaze focus on the moon tattoo on her cheek.
"O-oh shit, you're one of those Moonboys, aren't you?"
The Moonboys weren't as notorious as some of the other gangs, but their existence was fairly common knowledge, given how unsubtle their crimes tended to be.
"So what if I am?"
"No, it's just that, like, I shouldn't even be talking to street trash like you. I know your type. A bunch of shitty punks, all mad because your parents left you on the side of the road."
Deni could feel a familiar anger in her veins. The frustration that came from being treated like shit, from being disrespected. She was so mad, and yet, it felt so good. She had no family, she had no home, but her anger, that was always something she could come back to.
She let her anger guide her. It was effortless. Her rage took her body downstream, she was just along for the ride.
Deni snarled, raising her fist. She wanted to hurt him, badly. There was nothing he could do, either. He was weak, and she was strong.
Before Deni could bring her fist down on him, Ravil rushed inside. He had heard the commotion, and wanted to de-escalate before anyone got hurt.
"Deni, stop!" he said. He couldn't stop Deni, not physically, but he hoped that she'd at least listen to him.
"You're better than this," he said. "Calm down, and walk away."
Deni felt her anger subside. She was almost disappointed.
"Fine," she said, lowering her fist. The blond man was curled up on the floor, whimpering.
"I'm deeply sorry," Ravil said. "I promise, this won't happen again."
Ravil approached the counter, and gave the bartender a similar apology, offering him a small sum of Zeni for the troubles, and for a bottle of whiskey for the road.
Then, he and Deni headed down the sidewalk, and back to the mote.
"What were you thinking?" Ravil said. Deni was speechless for a moment. She had never heard Ravil this angry before. It wasn't loud, it wasn't harsh, it was just low, direct, and pointed. Every syllable was perfectly pronounced.
"I'm sorry," she said. She paused, leaving her mouth open for a moment, before realizing that she had nothing else to say.
"I had to pull a lot of strings to take you with me. My organization wanted me to take you directly into custody. If you had actually hurt him, I would have no choice but to turn you over."
Ravil sighed. "Did you at least get some information?"
"Yeah, there was a guy who said he knew how to get a fake ID. He said he'd come find us."
"And you thought that leading a criminal to our location was a good idea?"
"Well, clearly I'm just full of bad ideas."
"Go back to the room," Ravil said. "I need to run some errands in the meantime. Make sure we have enough food for the next couple days.
Deni nodded weakly. She took all of their things back up to the room, including the bottle of whiskey that Ravil had bought.
Ravil was gone, and Deni was alone. She didn't know what time it was, but the time didn't matter. She threw herself onto the bed. There was nothing else she could do. The sky was dark, and the music was deafening. The full moon was out tonight. Deni couldn't recall the last time she had seen one. Perhaps she had never seen one at all. It cast its light on the streets below, but it was nothing compared to the glaring neon below. Almost unconsciously, she brought the bottle of whiskey to her lips. It tasted terrible.
Minutes later, Ravil returned.
Deni was drunk, and that was obvious, even to someone who lacked the peerless deductive skills of Ravil. She reeked of alcohol, the bottle of whiskey in her hand. Ravil placed his fingers to his temple. He could already feel a migraine setting in.
"Have you been drinking?" Ravil said. He didn't know why he bothered asking.
"Yeah? So what, bitch, I can handle myself."
"You're clearly very drunk, and we have a job to do," Ravil said, approaching her slowly.
"Hey, fuck you man. Why are you so concerned for me all of a sudden? You're the one who gave me cigarettes. I'm fucking 19, man. I could have you arrested for that. Now I'm going to get addicted, and I'll die of lung cancer at 20 and it'll be aaaaaaaaall your fault."
Deni took another swig from the bottle in her hand, as Ravil got closer.
"Please, lay down. We can talk in the morning."
Ravil was a good few inches away from her, before Deni stumbled over to him, getting right in his face. She jabbed at his chest with her finger, poking him several times.
"Hey, hey man," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"Yes?" Ravil said, pulling away from her slightly.
"You want *hic* you want to know what else pisses me off about you?"
Ravil was silent, and Deni continued anyways.
"You fucking...like, every time I go to the bathroom, there's always piss underneath the toilet. Like, I'm sitting down to pee, and I step in, like, a huge puddle of piss. What the fuck is with that, man?"
Ravil sighed. "I'm getting old, alright. Sometimes it takes a second for my stream to get started, and it goes on the floor."
"Yeah, well that's the thing, right," she said. "Like, sometimes you forget to piss with the seat up, too, like, one time, I was sitting down for a shit, and I ended up with like, a whole ring of piss on my ass."
"I'm sor-"
Ravil was cut off, as Deni continued. "And like, the toilet seat isn't that big a deal. Like, I get it man, you're old, you dick doesn't work, like, I can live with that. Like, I know how to pee standing up."
Ravil raised a quizzical eyebrow. "How do you do that?"
"Okay, so, like, the gang I was in was mostly guys, right?" she said. "So, like, I would use the same bathroom as them, cause I was the only girl, so it didn't make sense for me to leave the group to go to a totally different bathroom, you know? And the city was a real shithole, and like, the toilet seats were all broken or covered in disease and shit, so I would need to use the urinal anyways. So, I learned how to pee standing up. It's not that hard, I just need to like, kind of, pull my pussy lips apart."
Deni was gesturing wildly to illustrate her story, and the hand movements she chose for "pulling her pussy lips apart" was particularly colorful.
"And, I just like, take a piss, but what I do is, like, I lean back a little, and like, angle the arc upwards, so it goes up and into the urinal, like *hic* like a fucking basketball free-throw. But like, it's really difficult to do, you know? So stop pissing on the seat, and start wearing diapers or something, you old fuck."
Ravil genuinely wasn't sure how to reply, but fortunately, Deni was still taking charge of the conversation.
"No, no, no *hic* but seriously, man, I just want to tell you that, I'm so fucking sorry. Like, I don't even know, sometimes I just-"
Before Deni could finish her sentence, she vomited all over Ravil's favorite trench coat, and passed out, falling backwards with a sound similar to that of a falling tree. Ravil picked her up, and dragged her into the bed. It had been a long night, and he needed to sleep. The night was warm, and the full moon was out.
