Disclaimer: No one reads this. Everyone knows I don't own this. What's the point? Don't own the term "Mog" either.
A/N: No Purchase Necessary.
Back in the Saddle
Normal perused the package slips on his clipboard while tossing packages to the reprobates who had the nerve to try and slip past his radar. "Bip," he scolded a carrot-top irritant. "Sector five." Off of the younger man's grimace he began another lecture. "Listen potato-head," he started.
"You call me Normal?" Sketchy swung around a corner.
"Not you "Potato-Head", this other..." Normal shoved an annoyed finger behind him. With a quick about-face, he started to bawl out...nobody. The punk had already left. Normal's characteristic frown deepened. Normal turned back around, confronting with Sketchy's usual ignorantly vacant expression. Agitated, he chucked the employee with his clipboard. Astonishingly enough, Sketchy didn't protest or begin to preach against the use of employer-on-employee violence in the work place. In fact, the moron had the impertinence to smile at something behind his boss. Unsurprisingly, Normal rolled his eyes.
"I don't care how 'hot' she is, Degenerate. The last thing I need is another first-rate pair of legs who with efficient quickness adopts the Jam Pony 'ideal' of good-for-nothing laziness. We're not hiring." Normal spat.
"Now that's not very nice, Normal," a voice, too deep to be female, sounded behind him. Normal wheeled around, coming face-to-face with his 'Golden-Boy'. Alec casually smiled at his former boss.
"I came back here looking for another chance at a job, but," he shrugged his shoulders offhandedly, glancing at a very impressive female employee. She had just finished a "run" and mysteriously enough, had come looking for another without a thirty-minute break in between as per usual. A still dumbfounded Normal shoved off another package mumbling something about sector four. The lass sneaked another summarizing glance before winking and sliding off. Alec continued as if he hadn't been pleasurably interrupted. "But, seeing how you already seem to have a full house, maybe you could give me a recommendation for my next job. What would you suggest for a genetically empowered being such as myself? Pizza delivery or packing groceries?" he finished.
The mental countdown began. Four, three, t...
"Nonsense!" Normal interjected. "I couldn't leave my rock star out in the rain now could I?" He swiftly punched Alec's upper arm. "Grab yourself a package, get yourself re-acclimated."
Sketch smiled at his boy. "Good to have you back, man. Normal was starting to act like a PMS-ing woman without her chocolate." He and Alec laughed when Normal suddenly glared at the offender. "Leaving," Sketchy said.
"Forgetting something?" Normal called out. He carefully chose one of the heavier, more durable packages and threw it right into Sketchy's chest. At the victim's small yelp of shocked pain, Normal allowed himself a small smile.
"Of the sadistic sort recently Normal?" Alec quipped with his usual devil-may-care grin. He leaned casually against the counter, letting his frame catch the eye of a petite and appreciative Asian girl across at her locker. He winked; she blushed and shot him a coy smile. A contented smile slipped out of Alec. It was good to be back in the saddle again.
He turned his attention back to his less-deserving boss. It was still just a little unnerving that Normal hadn't even taken a full three seconds before rolling out the welcome mat. An almost delicate shudder raced through Alec. Maybe Max was on to something.
"Only when goaded beyond a saint's standards. A bag of ice and he'll be fine," his boss mumbled into a stack of illegible slips. A sudden thought struck Normal. Leaning over the caged-in counter past Alec, he bellowed out, "And where in the name of the "Electric Prunes" is Max?!?"
"Here Normal," a feminine voice called out. Alec felt a whoosh of air slip past him before Max languidly slumped against the counter. The boy was shocked. If his wife leaned over a mere two-inches, they'd be practically snuggling. Alec's body involuntarily opened up at the thought. Dipping his head slightly, he raised an eyebrow at Max. Opening her own body faintly, she challenged him with an eyebrow raise of her own.
Normal fixed his attention on a less-deserving Max. "Sometimes to get a good employee back on the lists I have to take in another shiftless troublemaker such as yourself." Max nodded, acknowledging the fact that Alec will always be on the higher pedestal in the eyes of the boss. What a pity. It wasn't like she was clamoring for the spot anyway. Alec on the other hand, seemed to soak up the spotlight. Even when he looked down at her just then, he eyes were still brimming with some indefinable light. Probably a "cloaked" gloating over the fact that he wasn't going to need to beg for his job. He just knew she would need to do a lot of begging to get back into Normal's...less dark graces. Arrogant bastard.
"But be warned Missy-Miss," he continued in a nagging fashion. "I don't care if you are in need of a heart-transplant, leading a transgenic cause, or running for the presidency of Mars. Once your term in the Elliptical Office is through, you have no job here." He wagged a bony finger at her. "Twice is my limit. If you leave again, don't bother coming back."
Max was unimpressed. She threw up one hand quickly, "Just pass me a package Normal." With a last threatening glance, "Sector two," he drawled. Max snatched the package ready to make a speedy and graceful exit.
Tough luck then, that her shoe got caught in her oversized jeans at that precise moment. Time was suddenly sluggish. A small unsoldier-like squeak escaped Max's lips. The package was suspended in the air before Max haphazardly collapsed it against her chest, ready to cocoon its fall. Alec on the other hand, almost casually enveloped Max. After an eternal half-second, Max realized she wasn't sprawled out on the cold hard cement. She was actually engulfed in a really warm and stiff leather jacket.
Next to a really warm and firm body.
Who undeniably had his face buried in her hair.
Before Max allowed her senses fully absorb his warmth, or his own personal "Alec smell" - which seemed completely devoid of any cologne, and had an homey, almost "Tide"ish scent, by the way - she flew out of her cushion and fully supported herself on her own two feet. Quickly wiping the "deer in the headlights" look off her face, she mumbled a sharp "shut up" and stalked off to find Original Cindy.
Faking indifference Alec didn't bother glancing at his boss. He shifted his eyes back to elfin Asian angel, who resembled melted butter after seeing his gallant catch. Fully turning his body to her, still leaning against the counter some rare GQ model, he beamed a million-watt smile for her. Who knew butter could evaporate? Pushing the nagging feeling to the back of his mind that Max had slightly leaned into him after the catch, he received a package from Normal. Still avoiding a glance at Normal, Alec advanced towards the evaporating butter, who seemed more than happy for a moment of his attention.
Some wires must have been crossed wrong. Here Max was just learning to stand the sight of him, while his boss was effectively sporting a nice shade of envious green over an Asian employee.
Go figure.
*****
Crash was filled with her usual patrons. The local riff-raff, ready to piddle their hard-earned cash on a few drinks and pool games. The desperate guys on the prowl for Miss Tonight. There were always those under-aged kids, trying to look like they were older and failing miserably. It wasn't like they actually checked I.D.'s anymore; people just wanted to sell their liquor.
Then of course, there was the Jam Pony crew. Jam Pony seemed to be Crash's main source of revenue. Normal ride you hard today? Head to Crash. Too many runs to practically out-of-state sectors? See you at Crash. Faked sick today? Hey, you're buying at Crash. If the money was available, they could run a commercial.
Of course in the midst of it all was Jam Pony's royal court. King Alec, Queen Max, their counselor, Original Cindy, and the court jester, Sketchy. Alec grabbed another scotch off the bar and headed for the inner-sanctum. Original Cindy and Max were talking animatedly about the importance of clean nails in the work place. Okay, so O.C. was doing the talking, Max was listening. Sketchy on the other hand, was modeling the effects of too many beers too early in the evening, already drooping off into Lala Land.
Alec smoothly slid into the seat next Max. He carelessly flung an arm around her shoulder. "Max, cupcake. No drinks tonight? Dang, and here I was thinking if I got you drunk enough..." he trailed off, glancing effectively at Sketchy, who drunkenly snickered. Max, predictably, flung his arm off her shoulder with unmasked disgust and scooted closer to O.C., who was eyeing him questioningly. Alec was going to have to talk to O.C. about that, it was getting rather unnerving.
So, to make a long story short, the royal court was avidly discussing several topics of dire importance when "She" walked in. Clad in the usual attire, something so small and tight-fitting that Britney Spears would be ashamed to be caught in it, you could almost hear the leather skirt "squeak" as "She" strutted across Crash. An amazing amount of beer breath escaped at once, with all the male jaws on the floor.
"Yo girl," Cindy started. "Who invited 'Christina I-will-laya'?" Max muffled a snicker in her extra-large shirtsleeve.
Minette strutted over to Alec's side. "Hey," she simpered. Alec gave her a quick once-over before turning his attention back to his drink. Minette obviously overlooked the facade of disinterest. Alec's jaw might not have dropped like every other cat's had in the joint, but his eyes had obviously flickered with something. He might throw up his mask mighty quick, but Minette had caught the sheen of desire illuminating in his eyes.
*****
Ever since the siege had started four years ago, Alec had caught her eye. He wasn't like the other soldiers in Terminal City. He had more to offer, mostly because he wanted more. And Alec wasn't the kind to just take everything; he would give everything in return. And "Everything" was just what Minette wanted. Max was a fool to let a man like Alec slip by. Minette had made it a special point not to copy her mistake.
Alec may have been a genetically spliced super soldier, but he was still 93% human. Cat DNA didn't take away the need for comfort, an encouraging word once in a while. Max wasn't the kind of girl to give it too him; she was too swept up with that humanoid Logan. And a girl had to be smart, on the sly to get what she craved in this world.
But for all their fighting, Max and Alec were just too close. Even when the heifer had bawled out the man time and time again, he served her with a dogged devotion, content to slip in the background. Max was propelled, even if inadequately, into the limelight. She was the "leader" of transgenics. Puh-leeze. The girl couldn't tie her own dang shoes, figuratively speaking, without Alec's help. Max shouldn't have been in the spotlight, Alec should have. With Minette at his side, of course.
Max would tear the chap down; Minette greedily picked him up, counting down the days until he was hers. She had caught his eye even then. Flirtations and subtle innuendos slipped between the two at almost every "chance" meeting. Manticore hadn't given her a sinfully voluptuous body for no good reason.
She'd almost got him. Once. Max had been on his butt again, saying the most heartless things. Why the boy didn't just haul off and bust her across the chops was a mystery. Anyway, Alec was feeling particularly lonely, and Minette, being the saint she was, offered a willing shoulder. Then a willing hand. Then a willing mouth.
She had gotten him back to her home sweet home in T.C. when he pushed her away, saying he shouldn't be there. It was wrong. But he seemed confused, like he didn't understand why he was denying himself the pleasures of a warm, curvy, and eager body on tonight of all nights. What was it wrong against, she had asked. Was it wrong to look for some pleasure in dire times such as these? Was it wrong against a vindictive drifter who didn't appreciate him anyway? He had grimaced, nodded his head, and began attacking her lips with his once more. She had gotten him to her bed, coaxing him, telling him he had wanted her, when with a heartfelt "No!" Alec shot off and disappeared into the night. In his haste, he had forgotten his shirt.
She still had it, three years later.
The next morning, word had it that Alec and Max had been in a fight later that night. Pretty ugly, witnesses had said. They were surprised someone hadn't been killed. Minette had been very smug. For all of three minutes.
She had headed to the infirmary, hoping to offer some more words of comfort, when she was cut off by Joshua. Wrinkling her nose in disgust at the "Mog" - half man, half dog - she delicately asked where Alec was.
"He's in his apartment," he'd replied.
"Why isn't he here? I heard the fight was ugly," she had impatiently asked.
"Was ugly. Max and Alec grab medical stuff and head back to his apartment," the dog-boy had smiled faintly then. "Said they could take care of each other. They're family. They looked like they had been crying."
A pissed Minette couldn't listen anymore.
After the infamous fight, one of many, so she had discreetly heard, those two had been even closer. The tension between those two was unbearable. They put on a front like they detested each other, were actually close friends, they trusted each other with their lives, and both were subconsciously debating on wanting something more. Even if they denied it from themselves, Minette had known better. Everyone in Terminal City had known better. LOGAN had known better.
What really pissed her off, was that for all the flirtations between Alec and herself - though they had grown increasingly sparse over time, it seemed none of the girls were succeeding with him after awhile - Minette had never touched Alec the way Max had. She and Alec had flirted because things between them were easily blithe; Max and Alec illogically ran against each other because they were profoundly multi-layered.
The real trick was getting to Alec before they both figured out what they really wanted.
There was a movie smuggled into Terminal City once, something called "Moulin Rouge". Everyone was in need of entertainment and any diversion from their paltry lives. The movie itself was eccentric, but it had pinned down one lesson Minette had learned long ago. Men like their women in three categories: wilting flower, bright and bubbly, or smoldering temptress.
Minette was a smoldering temptress, and she could work her embers well. Max was a wilting flower, drying out quickly. And Alec didn't want a whiner on his hands. All a girl of her type needed to do was sit on her hands, maybe plant a few "innocent" suspicions, and wait for the sand to drain out of the hourglass.
*****
Whether the man knew it or not, he still wanted her. Minette took the olive out of her dry martini, sucking on it in a tempting fashion. She had diverted his attention for the last fifteen minutes. Between the recent news on the dispersed transgenics, or subtle but sweetly covered digs towards Max, the boy hadn't the time to glance in his wife's direction. Or so she had planned it that way. Alec had entirely too many "fleeting looks" in Max's direction by Minette's scorecard.
They lapsed into a "companionable" silence. Both silently watching Max and Cindy play a game of pool.
Never one to lose an edge, Minette assessed her competition. Max didn't have the curves like she did. Any curves she had were hidden anyway. She dressed like a girl at one time, when the siege had started. But when clothes had run short, Max had given her attire over to girls who were appropriately concerned with their appearance. They wanted to actually let their figures say that they were female, while Max gladly threw herself into baggy boys clothes, saying they were "more comfortable". It was disgusting. She was practically shapeless and a complete grunge. The girl had even cut her hair, her most promising asset. It was cropped above her ears; she could have practically copied that "Bed Head" look that was so popular at the turn of the millennium. Hideous and boyish in form, she no longer resembled anything female, but she wasn't quite male either.
Could she be more "Jane Eyre"?
And they certainly didn't walked alike. Max held herself in a quirky fashion. It was like she was part naive schoolgirl still, part humble soldier - What soldier doesn't use a gun anyway? - and part strapping woman. Naïveté wasn't fit to survive these days. True soldiers don't show any concern for the enemy. And women were not made to be "strapping" in a gawky fashion. Women were supposed to be well-built, yes, but not as if they were overgrown tomboys. Minette was proud; she knew how to use her body to get attention.
But Max did carry herself with an unusual grace. No matter what, Minette had to give her enemy that. But she was still ugly. Even when the siege was over, she kept her hair short because it was hassle free, her clothes baggy because she "kind of liked having [her] body covered". She was just too lazy to "dress to impress", not worth even the smallest glance.
Then why the in name of all that's holy was Alec staring at her that way?
A/N: No Purchase Necessary.
Back in the Saddle
Normal perused the package slips on his clipboard while tossing packages to the reprobates who had the nerve to try and slip past his radar. "Bip," he scolded a carrot-top irritant. "Sector five." Off of the younger man's grimace he began another lecture. "Listen potato-head," he started.
"You call me Normal?" Sketchy swung around a corner.
"Not you "Potato-Head", this other..." Normal shoved an annoyed finger behind him. With a quick about-face, he started to bawl out...nobody. The punk had already left. Normal's characteristic frown deepened. Normal turned back around, confronting with Sketchy's usual ignorantly vacant expression. Agitated, he chucked the employee with his clipboard. Astonishingly enough, Sketchy didn't protest or begin to preach against the use of employer-on-employee violence in the work place. In fact, the moron had the impertinence to smile at something behind his boss. Unsurprisingly, Normal rolled his eyes.
"I don't care how 'hot' she is, Degenerate. The last thing I need is another first-rate pair of legs who with efficient quickness adopts the Jam Pony 'ideal' of good-for-nothing laziness. We're not hiring." Normal spat.
"Now that's not very nice, Normal," a voice, too deep to be female, sounded behind him. Normal wheeled around, coming face-to-face with his 'Golden-Boy'. Alec casually smiled at his former boss.
"I came back here looking for another chance at a job, but," he shrugged his shoulders offhandedly, glancing at a very impressive female employee. She had just finished a "run" and mysteriously enough, had come looking for another without a thirty-minute break in between as per usual. A still dumbfounded Normal shoved off another package mumbling something about sector four. The lass sneaked another summarizing glance before winking and sliding off. Alec continued as if he hadn't been pleasurably interrupted. "But, seeing how you already seem to have a full house, maybe you could give me a recommendation for my next job. What would you suggest for a genetically empowered being such as myself? Pizza delivery or packing groceries?" he finished.
The mental countdown began. Four, three, t...
"Nonsense!" Normal interjected. "I couldn't leave my rock star out in the rain now could I?" He swiftly punched Alec's upper arm. "Grab yourself a package, get yourself re-acclimated."
Sketch smiled at his boy. "Good to have you back, man. Normal was starting to act like a PMS-ing woman without her chocolate." He and Alec laughed when Normal suddenly glared at the offender. "Leaving," Sketchy said.
"Forgetting something?" Normal called out. He carefully chose one of the heavier, more durable packages and threw it right into Sketchy's chest. At the victim's small yelp of shocked pain, Normal allowed himself a small smile.
"Of the sadistic sort recently Normal?" Alec quipped with his usual devil-may-care grin. He leaned casually against the counter, letting his frame catch the eye of a petite and appreciative Asian girl across at her locker. He winked; she blushed and shot him a coy smile. A contented smile slipped out of Alec. It was good to be back in the saddle again.
He turned his attention back to his less-deserving boss. It was still just a little unnerving that Normal hadn't even taken a full three seconds before rolling out the welcome mat. An almost delicate shudder raced through Alec. Maybe Max was on to something.
"Only when goaded beyond a saint's standards. A bag of ice and he'll be fine," his boss mumbled into a stack of illegible slips. A sudden thought struck Normal. Leaning over the caged-in counter past Alec, he bellowed out, "And where in the name of the "Electric Prunes" is Max?!?"
"Here Normal," a feminine voice called out. Alec felt a whoosh of air slip past him before Max languidly slumped against the counter. The boy was shocked. If his wife leaned over a mere two-inches, they'd be practically snuggling. Alec's body involuntarily opened up at the thought. Dipping his head slightly, he raised an eyebrow at Max. Opening her own body faintly, she challenged him with an eyebrow raise of her own.
Normal fixed his attention on a less-deserving Max. "Sometimes to get a good employee back on the lists I have to take in another shiftless troublemaker such as yourself." Max nodded, acknowledging the fact that Alec will always be on the higher pedestal in the eyes of the boss. What a pity. It wasn't like she was clamoring for the spot anyway. Alec on the other hand, seemed to soak up the spotlight. Even when he looked down at her just then, he eyes were still brimming with some indefinable light. Probably a "cloaked" gloating over the fact that he wasn't going to need to beg for his job. He just knew she would need to do a lot of begging to get back into Normal's...less dark graces. Arrogant bastard.
"But be warned Missy-Miss," he continued in a nagging fashion. "I don't care if you are in need of a heart-transplant, leading a transgenic cause, or running for the presidency of Mars. Once your term in the Elliptical Office is through, you have no job here." He wagged a bony finger at her. "Twice is my limit. If you leave again, don't bother coming back."
Max was unimpressed. She threw up one hand quickly, "Just pass me a package Normal." With a last threatening glance, "Sector two," he drawled. Max snatched the package ready to make a speedy and graceful exit.
Tough luck then, that her shoe got caught in her oversized jeans at that precise moment. Time was suddenly sluggish. A small unsoldier-like squeak escaped Max's lips. The package was suspended in the air before Max haphazardly collapsed it against her chest, ready to cocoon its fall. Alec on the other hand, almost casually enveloped Max. After an eternal half-second, Max realized she wasn't sprawled out on the cold hard cement. She was actually engulfed in a really warm and stiff leather jacket.
Next to a really warm and firm body.
Who undeniably had his face buried in her hair.
Before Max allowed her senses fully absorb his warmth, or his own personal "Alec smell" - which seemed completely devoid of any cologne, and had an homey, almost "Tide"ish scent, by the way - she flew out of her cushion and fully supported herself on her own two feet. Quickly wiping the "deer in the headlights" look off her face, she mumbled a sharp "shut up" and stalked off to find Original Cindy.
Faking indifference Alec didn't bother glancing at his boss. He shifted his eyes back to elfin Asian angel, who resembled melted butter after seeing his gallant catch. Fully turning his body to her, still leaning against the counter some rare GQ model, he beamed a million-watt smile for her. Who knew butter could evaporate? Pushing the nagging feeling to the back of his mind that Max had slightly leaned into him after the catch, he received a package from Normal. Still avoiding a glance at Normal, Alec advanced towards the evaporating butter, who seemed more than happy for a moment of his attention.
Some wires must have been crossed wrong. Here Max was just learning to stand the sight of him, while his boss was effectively sporting a nice shade of envious green over an Asian employee.
Go figure.
*****
Crash was filled with her usual patrons. The local riff-raff, ready to piddle their hard-earned cash on a few drinks and pool games. The desperate guys on the prowl for Miss Tonight. There were always those under-aged kids, trying to look like they were older and failing miserably. It wasn't like they actually checked I.D.'s anymore; people just wanted to sell their liquor.
Then of course, there was the Jam Pony crew. Jam Pony seemed to be Crash's main source of revenue. Normal ride you hard today? Head to Crash. Too many runs to practically out-of-state sectors? See you at Crash. Faked sick today? Hey, you're buying at Crash. If the money was available, they could run a commercial.
Of course in the midst of it all was Jam Pony's royal court. King Alec, Queen Max, their counselor, Original Cindy, and the court jester, Sketchy. Alec grabbed another scotch off the bar and headed for the inner-sanctum. Original Cindy and Max were talking animatedly about the importance of clean nails in the work place. Okay, so O.C. was doing the talking, Max was listening. Sketchy on the other hand, was modeling the effects of too many beers too early in the evening, already drooping off into Lala Land.
Alec smoothly slid into the seat next Max. He carelessly flung an arm around her shoulder. "Max, cupcake. No drinks tonight? Dang, and here I was thinking if I got you drunk enough..." he trailed off, glancing effectively at Sketchy, who drunkenly snickered. Max, predictably, flung his arm off her shoulder with unmasked disgust and scooted closer to O.C., who was eyeing him questioningly. Alec was going to have to talk to O.C. about that, it was getting rather unnerving.
So, to make a long story short, the royal court was avidly discussing several topics of dire importance when "She" walked in. Clad in the usual attire, something so small and tight-fitting that Britney Spears would be ashamed to be caught in it, you could almost hear the leather skirt "squeak" as "She" strutted across Crash. An amazing amount of beer breath escaped at once, with all the male jaws on the floor.
"Yo girl," Cindy started. "Who invited 'Christina I-will-laya'?" Max muffled a snicker in her extra-large shirtsleeve.
Minette strutted over to Alec's side. "Hey," she simpered. Alec gave her a quick once-over before turning his attention back to his drink. Minette obviously overlooked the facade of disinterest. Alec's jaw might not have dropped like every other cat's had in the joint, but his eyes had obviously flickered with something. He might throw up his mask mighty quick, but Minette had caught the sheen of desire illuminating in his eyes.
*****
Ever since the siege had started four years ago, Alec had caught her eye. He wasn't like the other soldiers in Terminal City. He had more to offer, mostly because he wanted more. And Alec wasn't the kind to just take everything; he would give everything in return. And "Everything" was just what Minette wanted. Max was a fool to let a man like Alec slip by. Minette had made it a special point not to copy her mistake.
Alec may have been a genetically spliced super soldier, but he was still 93% human. Cat DNA didn't take away the need for comfort, an encouraging word once in a while. Max wasn't the kind of girl to give it too him; she was too swept up with that humanoid Logan. And a girl had to be smart, on the sly to get what she craved in this world.
But for all their fighting, Max and Alec were just too close. Even when the heifer had bawled out the man time and time again, he served her with a dogged devotion, content to slip in the background. Max was propelled, even if inadequately, into the limelight. She was the "leader" of transgenics. Puh-leeze. The girl couldn't tie her own dang shoes, figuratively speaking, without Alec's help. Max shouldn't have been in the spotlight, Alec should have. With Minette at his side, of course.
Max would tear the chap down; Minette greedily picked him up, counting down the days until he was hers. She had caught his eye even then. Flirtations and subtle innuendos slipped between the two at almost every "chance" meeting. Manticore hadn't given her a sinfully voluptuous body for no good reason.
She'd almost got him. Once. Max had been on his butt again, saying the most heartless things. Why the boy didn't just haul off and bust her across the chops was a mystery. Anyway, Alec was feeling particularly lonely, and Minette, being the saint she was, offered a willing shoulder. Then a willing hand. Then a willing mouth.
She had gotten him back to her home sweet home in T.C. when he pushed her away, saying he shouldn't be there. It was wrong. But he seemed confused, like he didn't understand why he was denying himself the pleasures of a warm, curvy, and eager body on tonight of all nights. What was it wrong against, she had asked. Was it wrong to look for some pleasure in dire times such as these? Was it wrong against a vindictive drifter who didn't appreciate him anyway? He had grimaced, nodded his head, and began attacking her lips with his once more. She had gotten him to her bed, coaxing him, telling him he had wanted her, when with a heartfelt "No!" Alec shot off and disappeared into the night. In his haste, he had forgotten his shirt.
She still had it, three years later.
The next morning, word had it that Alec and Max had been in a fight later that night. Pretty ugly, witnesses had said. They were surprised someone hadn't been killed. Minette had been very smug. For all of three minutes.
She had headed to the infirmary, hoping to offer some more words of comfort, when she was cut off by Joshua. Wrinkling her nose in disgust at the "Mog" - half man, half dog - she delicately asked where Alec was.
"He's in his apartment," he'd replied.
"Why isn't he here? I heard the fight was ugly," she had impatiently asked.
"Was ugly. Max and Alec grab medical stuff and head back to his apartment," the dog-boy had smiled faintly then. "Said they could take care of each other. They're family. They looked like they had been crying."
A pissed Minette couldn't listen anymore.
After the infamous fight, one of many, so she had discreetly heard, those two had been even closer. The tension between those two was unbearable. They put on a front like they detested each other, were actually close friends, they trusted each other with their lives, and both were subconsciously debating on wanting something more. Even if they denied it from themselves, Minette had known better. Everyone in Terminal City had known better. LOGAN had known better.
What really pissed her off, was that for all the flirtations between Alec and herself - though they had grown increasingly sparse over time, it seemed none of the girls were succeeding with him after awhile - Minette had never touched Alec the way Max had. She and Alec had flirted because things between them were easily blithe; Max and Alec illogically ran against each other because they were profoundly multi-layered.
The real trick was getting to Alec before they both figured out what they really wanted.
There was a movie smuggled into Terminal City once, something called "Moulin Rouge". Everyone was in need of entertainment and any diversion from their paltry lives. The movie itself was eccentric, but it had pinned down one lesson Minette had learned long ago. Men like their women in three categories: wilting flower, bright and bubbly, or smoldering temptress.
Minette was a smoldering temptress, and she could work her embers well. Max was a wilting flower, drying out quickly. And Alec didn't want a whiner on his hands. All a girl of her type needed to do was sit on her hands, maybe plant a few "innocent" suspicions, and wait for the sand to drain out of the hourglass.
*****
Whether the man knew it or not, he still wanted her. Minette took the olive out of her dry martini, sucking on it in a tempting fashion. She had diverted his attention for the last fifteen minutes. Between the recent news on the dispersed transgenics, or subtle but sweetly covered digs towards Max, the boy hadn't the time to glance in his wife's direction. Or so she had planned it that way. Alec had entirely too many "fleeting looks" in Max's direction by Minette's scorecard.
They lapsed into a "companionable" silence. Both silently watching Max and Cindy play a game of pool.
Never one to lose an edge, Minette assessed her competition. Max didn't have the curves like she did. Any curves she had were hidden anyway. She dressed like a girl at one time, when the siege had started. But when clothes had run short, Max had given her attire over to girls who were appropriately concerned with their appearance. They wanted to actually let their figures say that they were female, while Max gladly threw herself into baggy boys clothes, saying they were "more comfortable". It was disgusting. She was practically shapeless and a complete grunge. The girl had even cut her hair, her most promising asset. It was cropped above her ears; she could have practically copied that "Bed Head" look that was so popular at the turn of the millennium. Hideous and boyish in form, she no longer resembled anything female, but she wasn't quite male either.
Could she be more "Jane Eyre"?
And they certainly didn't walked alike. Max held herself in a quirky fashion. It was like she was part naive schoolgirl still, part humble soldier - What soldier doesn't use a gun anyway? - and part strapping woman. Naïveté wasn't fit to survive these days. True soldiers don't show any concern for the enemy. And women were not made to be "strapping" in a gawky fashion. Women were supposed to be well-built, yes, but not as if they were overgrown tomboys. Minette was proud; she knew how to use her body to get attention.
But Max did carry herself with an unusual grace. No matter what, Minette had to give her enemy that. But she was still ugly. Even when the siege was over, she kept her hair short because it was hassle free, her clothes baggy because she "kind of liked having [her] body covered". She was just too lazy to "dress to impress", not worth even the smallest glance.
Then why the in name of all that's holy was Alec staring at her that way?