Problem

Jonas Baer had no doubt that cooperation with bandits wouldn’t come to any good. He also knows that the only way to make it in life is to 'befriend' the right people, know how to set the right price tag on yourself and climb over someone’s head when it’s necessary, no matter how immoral it may seem. Besides, Jonas is a cynic, not a moralist. 'Reactor' never sleeps. And it never being benevolent to outsiders. Jonas passes by moderately dressed and excessively drunk people, grimacing at the mixed smell of sweat, cheap alcohol, and perfume. He isn’t affected by glances or unfriendly snorts. He knows that no one here will dare to approach him or blurt out something. Everyone here knows who is behind him and who he works for. And no one needs problems here. Everyone just wants to have some fun. Except Jonas. “Not now and not here,” he understands. Shaza waits for him in his usual place. Surrounded by his bodyguards and favourite girls and boys, not letting him get bored, the bandit drinks definitely expensive whiskey. At the sight of Jonas, he becomes noticeably more cheerful, and even lifts someone from his seat, inviting him to sit down. “You look more glumy than usual, friend,” Shaza said with a fascinating smile. “I’d like to see you after two shifts in the hospital,” casually answered Jonas. Without asking, takes a glass of swill and pours it inside. Shaza smirks. “Well, well, each of us is doing his job. And doing it well” Jonas is patiently waiting for an explanation of why he was called and what he needs to do. The body is bursting from lack of rest, new wounds that appeared after the treatment of the next scumbags who decided to arrange a stabbing still sting. Alcohol slightly knocks down irritation, and consciousness becomes cloudy, pushing away the pain. “There’s no substitute for high-quality alcohol. And after him, synthetics don’t climb into the throat,” he thinks. The problem turns out to be ordinary, routine — someone caught a bullet, and Jonas needs to patch it up. The solution turns out to be painful, and exhausting — mixing exhaustion, and old wounds with new ones is not the best idea. But this is the price that healers pay for their psi. This is the price that psionics pay for living among those who are not like themselves. This is the price Jonas pays to provide for himself and his loved ones. Jonas sits down to rest. Head is buzzing. Although he found a dark and relatively quiet corner in the club, it’s still torn apart, pulsating, ready to explode. Baer closes his eyes and leans back on the soft sofa. After a minute, he feels someone else sitting down next to him. He hears a familiar voice. Shaza. “I’m not jealous of you. There are a lot of benefits from your abilities, but there is a lot of shit” “Have you joined a support group?” Jonas asked tartly. “I heard you’re in trouble” “I’ll figure it out” “It’s not so easy to deal with the Inquisition. If they get on the tail, you won’t get away” “I’ll figure it out,” Jonas repeated. “You’re tense. You need to relax” Jonas thinks that since Shaza brought it up himself, the request would be appropriate. “Do you happen to have a cigarette?” “I got something better” Jonas opens his eyes. Shaza shoves a cigarette under his nose, but not a simple one. Only have to sniff, and it becomes clear that it’s a weed, a drug. Three to five enjoyers of this shit pass through Jonas per night. “I would prefer a regular one,” Bear said. “If you refuse, you’ll insult me,” Shaza answered. Jonas knows with whom and how to behave. He knows who and how to behave is not worth it. Because of exhaustion, because of understanding, because of the fact that fuck everything, he really needs to relax, Jonas takes a drug from the hands of a bandit. Psionic enjoys taking his first drag. Felt the playful smoke moving down his throat, the sweet and sour taste on his tongue. He notices Shaza’s departure only after a few minutes, and goes over his last words in his head, “I’ll find you a decent company,” without really comprehending them. He doesn’t count puffs. Loses track of time. An unexpected warm touch and breathing at the ear make him tense up. But something else makes him jump up on the spot — the voice. Terribly familiar. Painfully familiar. “Would you like to share a cigarette?” “Lou?!”, Jonas turns around with a frozen breath. Exhales. An unfamiliar face. An unfamiliar woman. Jonas tries to remember, think, and realize that the voice is also unfamiliar. Weed just hit his head really hard, the smoke obscured his mind and made him hear something that wasn’t there. Crap. “Who are you?”, Bear asked. “A company,” the woman answered simply. She walks around the sofa and unceremoniously sits on his lap. It’s hard to make out in the dark, everything is blurry in front of his eyes, but Jonas sees burning red curls, bright makeup and clothes barely covering the intimate parts of the female body. The spotlight, now falling on the face of a stranger, then leaving it in the shade, confuses Jonas. He understands that he is stoned, when he sees an unfamiliar face, then sees in someone else’s features a native, familiar one. Desirable. Forbidden. The woman reaches for a cigarette, right from Jonas’s hand, and she takes a drag. The picture is so familiar. From the plump, probably soft lips opposite, smoke pours out in a steady stream. Jonas looks for a long time, with an obsession. The picture is so familiar. It doesn’t matter who reaches out to the other first. It doesn’t matter who Jonas kisses, whose lips he torments with his own, from whom he knocks out moans. He closes his eyes and sees her clearly in front of him. Red curls, tanned skin, even though she almost never appears under the sun, broad shoulders, a toned body, so soft, pleasant under his hands when he remembers their last dance. Jonas feels the smell of expensive cigarettes that she smokes coming from somewhere. Feels the smell of soap with notes of lavender, which she washes with. Feels the smell of engine oil. He feels and cannot restrain himself. Doesn’t want to. The cig is flying somewhere to the side. Hands begin to explore someone else’s pliable, soft body. He imagined in its place another, familiar one. Stroking, undressing, digging in with short nails, knocking out moans and hisses. She’s whispering something. Asking. Begging. A familiar voice, a familiar face, a familiar smell. A familiar body. Familiar feelings with a new colour, an unfamiliar attraction, maddening. What prevents him from touching her like that? What prevents him from undressing her the same way? Kissing, caressing, pleasuring. Jonas’s pants are pulled off, the stranger is on top, and Lou is on top. Shortness of breath, tension in the groin, moans, heat of two bodies, friction. It naturally blows the roof. The stranger kisses his lips and screams. Lou kisses his lips and screams. When he touches her down there, he caresses her with knowledge of his business, driving her into a frenzy. Stranger cums, Lou cums. And so he does. Time passes, and Jonas stops following her. The girl leaves, but Lou stays. In the head and for a long time. Baer zips up his pants and stays on the couch. He finds an extinct cigarette on the floor. It’s a good thing it didn’t set a fire. Jonas hears a voice approaching. Shaza. “It turns out that you are a generous lover. I didn’t know, didn’t know” “Fuck you,” Jonas replied. Drugs are bad. Alcohol is bad. Casual unprotected sex with a stranger is bad. Jonas has been dealing with the consequences for two days. He comes to himself only on Revelation day. Lou is calling. They agree to meet. Jonas thought it would be awkward to meet after he fucked someone, imagining her in her place, but when Bear opened the door and saw a familiar face, he exhales with calmness. The usual conversation, the usual jokes. Worry about Tina, an understatement about relationships within a social group. “It’s complicated” Indeed, it is. And when they start jokingly fighting, when he turns behind her, presses her to him, inhales the smell of expensive cigarettes, lavender soap, and engine oil, buries himself in red hair, and sees open tanned skin in front of him, everything becomes very simple. Jonas kisses because he wants to. Because he needs to ask. Because he has to ask. No reaction. Jonas let her go. Lou freezes for a second. Don’t hit, don’t get angry, that’s a good sign. Baer asked directly: “Is this a problem?” Lou shook her head. “No” They are silent for a minute. “This is weird, isn’t it?” she added after. “No, not really… It happened,” answered Jonas calmly. Indeed, it is.