Vik swiveled on his stool as soon as I entered, a bright smile curving his lips. He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze suddenly darting elsewhere. "Hey, V. What uh—what brings you back so soon?"

I scratched the back of my head and tugged my jacket. "I hoped you might hook me up with more chrome?"

"More chrome?" Vik tossed a tool onto his work desk. "V, I gotta ask. Is that really all this is about—you could save yourself the eddies if you—"

"Jesus Christ." Johnny appeared in a glitch, pacing the space between Vik and me. "It's more awkward in here than a castrated borg with a Joytoy."

"Chrome, Vik. It's the only thing keepin' this body goin'." Not meeting Vik's gaze, I moved to the operating chair, leaning on its armrest. "How are those gorilla arms I've heard about?"

Vik moved behind me, tapping the fingers of his tool glove together, making light clanking sounds. "They hit like a Mack truck. Improve strength, stamina, and adapt to different styles of punches. Why? You really interested in those?"

Turning around, not expecting him to be that close, I gasped and pressed my ass against the chair. "I am. How much will they set me back?"

"Listen, V. What happened last time—"

Johnny glitched to Vik's stool, patting the tops of his thighs. "Here we go."

"Shut up, Johnny." I gulped.

Vik removed his glasses, locking gazes with me. "It wasn't the first time a client took advantage of the situation. I get it. There's a lot of proximity and intimacy between client and ripperdoc."

"Vik—" I started, but he held his palm up to stop me.

"But then, later that day I realized you're not just a client." Vik slid forward, dropping his lips to mine.

"Why don't you tell him your guardian angel's silver hand was in your pussy the other night? That'll set him straight." Johnny appeared beside us, leaning forward and darting his gaze between us.

"Shut up, Johnny. Fuck."

Vik's breath traveled over my chin.

My stomach didn't flip, and breathing came easy—unlike that night with Silverhand. And my heart? It didn't race.

I pushed a hand to Vik's chest. "Vik, I'm sorry I ever led you astray."

"Poor bastard never stood a chance," Johnny said, snickering before turning away with his hands interlaced behind his head.

Ignoring Johnny, I kept my focus on Vik.

"I uh—I read this entire situation wrong." Viktor chuckled and slid back, looking away from me and rubbing his neck.

"I'm sorry. Really, I am. That day I'd felt particularly lonely and I should've never—"

Vik gave a weak smile and patted my shoulder. "You don't have to explain, V. I get it. So, gorilla arms, huh? They ain't cheap. But I can probably do ninety-k eddies for you if you really want 'em."

Fuck. I'm a dick.

"Preem. Yeah. Let's do it." Vik's eyes glowed blue as I transferred the money to him.

Vik coughed and pointed at the chair behind me. "Lay back, and I'll get everything prepped." He turned away, but I grabbed his arm.

"We're still chooms, right, Vik?"

Vik patted my hand with a warm smile. "Takes more than a couple'ah awkward moments to scare me off. We're good."

He'd said the words, but I still felt plain shitty.

Positioning myself in the chair, I rested my head back and sighed.

Johnny appeared over me, caging me in with his arms, a hand on each armrest, a devilish grin gracing his lips. "You know what I want to say right now?"

"Say it later, will you? I'm a 'lil busy." I seethed up at him and pinched my knees together, stomach vaulting into somersaults.

Johnny lowered his face closer, a smug smile still plastered. "Mm, that cig is going to taste so fucking good."

My chest pumped up and down, my gaze dropping to his lips before snapping them back to his eyes. "Go. Away, Johnny."

Vik stepped beside the chair, his arm slicing through the glitching image of Johnny as he prepped.

"Have fun getting cut—again. See ya at home, dear." Johnny chuckled and backpedaled, making gestures of smoking a cigarette before disappearing.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and blew out a breath. "Fucking finally."

"Finally, what?" Vik asked, raising a light above the chair.

And now I was saying things out loud.

"Johnny, he was just here, annoying the piss out of me as usual." A tiny smirk plagued my lips.

Vik paused and squinted down at me. "When you first told me about him, you were a lot haughtier than you are now."

"Probably because his construct is invadin' me more and more with each passin' day?"

Vik frowned and slowly shook his head. "Not just that, V."

"You got somethin' t'say, Vik. Come right out and say it."

Vik sighed. "It's not my place. It really isn't. But be careful. Remember, he's not real."

A lump formed in my throat, and I pressed my palms against my stomach.

But he was real. As real as Vik standing next to me. The sights. The smells. And more recently—the feel of him.

"I will be, Vik. And thanks." I left it at that and drifted to sleep for the operation.

Vik and I didn't say much else after he woke me up other than him relaying care instructions and tossing me a bottle of pills. More fucking pills. I'd decided to walk home—a chance to clear my head, or what was left of it, and also grab a damn pack of cigs. The grated elevator doors opened, and I moved to the balcony outside of my apartment, leaning my forearms on the railing and staring at my new hands. The entire underside, save for my fingertips, was straight chrome now, and as I flexed my hands, the new arms purred in response. Sighing, I removed the pack of cigarettes from my jacket.

"Shit, you're actually going through with this?" Johnny appeared beside me, mirroring my pose and leaning.

I slid the lighter from my back pants pocket. "You think I'd back out on a bet?"

"Nah. You wouldn't." Johnny smirked. "One of several things I respect about you."

"Wow. We're on the respect train now?" I half-grinned and pulled a cig from the pack, holding it between two fingers.

Johnny removed his aviators, his gaze snapping to the cigarette, and he stood tall, hands wringing on the railing, tongue skirting the corner of his mouth.

Raising a brow at him, I ignited the lighter, watching the flame flicker in Johnny's eyes. "You really like nicotine, huh?"

"Whatever gave you that impression?" Johnny beat his hands on the railing and made a hurry-up gesture at me. "Ya gonna light it or stare at it?"

I'd raised the cig to my lips but dropped my hands back down. "Well, when ya talk to me like that…"

"V."

The desperation in his tone was borderline disturbing. I'd been so used to aloof, takes no shit, rockerboy Johnny. This brought out an entirely new side to him.

"I'm fuckin' with you. Calm down." Slipping the cigarette between my lips, I cupped a hand over my mouth to block the wind and lit it.

Johnny licked his lips seconds after I'd taken the first puff.

The last time I'd smoked a cigarette was in my teens and it felt foreign in my mouth. Shrugging, I pulled back on it, taking what I thought would be a drag but it only made me roll into a cough attack.

Johnny slapped a hand over his ribs, wincing and stumbling backward. "Christ, you don't suck on it like a dick, V." He pulled out his own fake cigarette, the same one I'd seen him remove from his back pocket whenever he wanted to "pretend." "Here. Like this." He scooted closer and proceeded to show me proper smoking technique.

After a few more failed attempts, I took the first successful drag, letting it settle in my lungs before blowing it back out.

Groaning, Johnny gripped the railing and closed his eyes. "Fuck yeah. That's the stuff right there."

"You, Johnny Silverhand—" I held the cig between my fingers, pointing at him with it, and turning my back on the railing, leaning on it with my elbows. "Are a peculiar man."

"Why, because I like to smoke?"

I took another puff and shook my head. "No. The worth you put on it."

"Yeah? What do you do to calm down? Everyone has their vices, V." He tapped his finger against his lips. "Wait. The job. Your merc lifestyle. That's your nicotine."

I blew smoke in his face. A normal person would've glared at me and fanned it away, but Johnny closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "It's like you're in my head or somethin'."

We both shared sidelong smiles and went quiet, facing Night City's skyline in the distance.

"I'm scared, Johnny. I'll fuckin' admit it." I winced and tapped ash from the end of the cigarette.

"Who could blame you?"

The vulnerability ate at me like a burrowing parasite. "When I died the first time, it plunged me into endless darkness—an abyss. No bright lights. No sense of being, just—nothin'." I risked looking at him, and he was staring at me, an almost kind of plead in his gaze. "Was it like that for you?"

He nodded and leaned one elbow on the railing. "More or less. But V, I promised I'd help you—and I meant it."

"I know, I know." Clearing my throat, I sniffed once and held the cig up that'd diminished to the filter. "You good?"

After he gave me a curt nod, I tossed the butt to the ground and squelched it with my boot.