relia-robot

Trans married robot/doll

[Robot/doll/moth/slime/NHP]-girl. DGN-001. I like writing!

See post-cohost writing at https://reliarobot.dreamwidth.org/, on tumblr at https://www.tumblr.com/relia-robot-writes, or collected long-form pieces at https://reliarobot.itch.io/


caffeinatedOtter
@caffeinatedOtter

"Should you be carrying all that?"

Nocebo stops dead and goes white with, judging by the set of her mouth, unadulterated rage.

"Who's this?" says the androgynous ink-slathered figure in a beanie, next to Nocebo, who — according to the website for the rope classes — is the other rigger-instructor, and is giving Mainbrace a thorough, leisurely, eyebrow-cocked once-over.

"I don't need anyone to carry things for me, thank you," Nocebo bites out.

"Mainbrace," Mainbrace says, extending a hand to the other rigger.

"The superhero," the other rigger says, elbowing Nocebo. "How did you meet her, Nance—"

"Med tent after the bug-men cleanup. Obviously there's not a doctor in the city who'd breach confidentiality and tell me scan results about anyone's bruised organs..." Mainbrace cuts in smoothly, and Nocebo heaves the duffle bag of rope to chest height and uses both arms to throw it at her.

Mainbrace catches it one-handed, without a blink.

"Where's this going?" she says, and insouciantly slings it over her shoulder, two fingers hooked through the straps, as if it's no more than a jacket.

"Why don't you lock up," Nocebo suggests murderously to her fellow instructor, and stomps over to her rusting hatchback. "You can't just come here and intimidate me—" she says, at a hiss, as she unlocks it.

"I was tied to fucking tracks like a Snidely Whiplash damsel," Mainbrace says, almost as quietly. "You could have been anyone. You could have done anything. This is — if you're going to talk about rope classes, next time it could be anyone you're saying it to. That's all. Okay?" She slides the duffel carefully into the car.

Nocebo's clenched jaw flexes. "I want," she says after a pause, "alternating weeks at the Asian food mart," and Mainbrace runs a hand through her hair and looks like she wants to say something.

"Yeah," she mumbles. "Okay—" and hesitates; "I thought that finding you anywhere other than work to say something would be worse," she adds, rushed and almost inaudible.

Nocebo smiles tightly. "Nobody who gets to pet bunnies is really working," she says.

"Vetenarians are deeply wounded." Mainbrace cocks her head as though thinking. "Though I guess their bunnies might focus more on the being stuck with needles—" and she catches Nocebo's eye and spreading smirk and pivots to a mumble and a cleared throat. "Any other demands?"

"We're not friends or allies and we don't have an arrangement," Nocebo says, slow and pointed. "We're not anything. We don't trust each other." She steps in and rises on tiptoe. "Fuck off," she delivers, breathed at close range, eyes on Mainbrace's.

Mainbrace swallows. Gingerly pats the hatchback's roof. "Drive safe," she says, at an everyday volume, as the other rigger walks across the parking lot, grinning like she's watching a romcom; and leaves like she thinks Nocebo might fuck her up.


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