Chapter 2 - Customers, both expected and not

Posted on https://books.clockworkcaracal.com/dragons-heart/old-beginnings/ch2 - if you aren't there, this is a pirated copy!

A loud, obnoxious beeping noise dragged Cyan from sleep with a groan. Fumbling around with a free hand - and without lifting his head - he managed to capture the source and drag it over towards his face. It was, he identified after a moment, the comm for his shop downstairs, which meant a customer asking for him.

"Why don't you ever just ask nicely," he muttered at the device, then pushed himself half-upright and flipped it on. "I'm here, what's up?"

"Damn, boss, you sound like shit." Minmax, Cyan's sole employee and an ex-lancer, might've been completely lacking in tact, but at least they sounded (and probably were) completely sympathetic.

"Yeah, well." Cyan fought back a yawn. "Late night. Don't ask."

"No sir. You got a client here to pick up a foot."

Cyan glanced out his bedroom door towards the shoebox in the next room - not that he could actually see it from where he was. "Name?"

"Said it's Six."

That was the werewolf he'd just finished, then. "That's the one," he agreed, succumbing to the yawn. "Tell 'em I'll be out in ten."

"He's got it. Says he'll---" The comm clicked off mid-sentence.

Cyan flopped back onto the bed and stretched, indulging in a brief moment of crankiness as he flung the comm across the room. A quick check of the time showed it was almost noon, which normally would've been a comfortably late start, but after the previous night's so-called adventure, he would've been happy just spending the whole day in bed.

"I need a vacation," he announced to the ceiling. When it unsurprisingly failed to reply, he sighed and dragged himself out of bed.

Eight minutes later found him dressed and pouring himself a cup of crappy instant coffee - the kind he saved for "emergencies", times when he needed to keep himself awake for whatever reason. This morning was definitely one of those times.

With coffee in one hand and shoebox in the other, he headed downstairs and out into the shop front.

"And here he is now," Minmax announced, then gave Cyan a thumb's up.

"Thanks, M." Cyan nodded, then turned to his client. "Sorry for the wait."

"Ah, don't worry about it." Six grinned toothily. "Mind if we do the swap here?"

"You know the drill." Cyan grinned back and handed them the box. "Go sit down and I'll be right with you."

The shop itself was small, the walls lined with cases of second-hand robotics and enough open to fit maybe a dozen people comfortably, so it didn't take any longer for Cyan to chug half his awful (but caffeinated) coffee and get the tools he needed from behind the counter than it did for Six to settle themself on the one bench in the room.

"So," he said, settling down on the floor as Six took off their shoe, "how are Rose and Halo doing these days?"

"Ugh." Six grimaced. "You don't even want to know."

"That bad? Last time you were in for a tune-up, it sounded like things were smoothing over."

"Last time I was in, they were." Six sighed, then launched into a detailed recap of their team's current interpersonal drama.

Rose and Halo had been a couple since before Six had started coming to Cyan's shop - in what was, from all the tales he'd heard, a roller-coaster of an on-and-off relationship. If they weren't having a dramatic fight, they were having an equally dramatic getting-back-together.

Cyan couldn't imagine how they managed to keep a functional team with that kind of dynamic, but he was (thankfully) not a lancer. Besides, the most important part of the gossip was that catching Cyan up on it gave Six something to do while he worked on their foot.

Sparing just enough attention to track the conversation and respond appropriately, Cyan concentrated on detaching the old foot, unhooking it from the more permanent fixture set into the end of their leg. Six was one of only a few clients where Cyan had built the whole thing, which made it easier for him to maintain and upgrade the pieces as needed. Not that he couldn't interface with other people's work, but not having to work around the idiosyncricities of other techs was always less stressful.

Once all the old piece were removed, he started the work on adjusting the connection points into the leg; even with both pieces being his own work, the base needed some updates to accommodate the new foot's improved sensory inputs. It wasn't difficult, just a little tedious; a few splitters here, a new connection port there....

By the time he started actually connecting the new foot to the base, Six had worked through two of their teammates' recent falling-outs and was gearing up to relate the third (and probably final). Cyan winced sympathetically as he linked up the connections in preparation for attaching the actual cybernetic, taking care not to move them too much. He hadn't ever slipped up on the sensory connectors enough to cause anyone any pain, but one time, he did accidentally hit a motor connector and got himself kicked in the face - a mistake he definitely did not want to repeat.

The sound of the door chime, signalling someone entering the shop, pinged at the edge of his consciousness. Minmax handled the day-to-day customers, so Cyan tuned it out, M's familiar greeting blending into the background noise. On the off chance they wanted custom work done, they could---

"Just looking around."

Cyan nearly jumped out of his skin, a century of self-discipline barely enough to keep him from stabbing Six in the leg in surprise. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed what his ears had already identified: it was the same man from last night.

Cyan deliberately turned back to his job, trying to keep his attention on the last connector and Six's anecdotes and not think about who the man in his shop was.

"... literally throwing furniture at each other," Six was saying, radiating affectionate exasperation. "I wound up shifting and sitting on top of Halo until they both calmed down enough to not wreck the living room, and then Kiva threw them both out for the rest of the day."

"Only a day?" Cyan joked, although the humor sounded flat even to his own ear. Fortunately, it could easily be passed off as preoccupation as he attached the foot into place - Six, at least, didn't seem to notice.

"Right?" Six laughed. "I told them, if they broke any of my stuff, it was coming out of their cut on the next job. Halo tried to argue so I threatened to sit on him again. Oh!" They wiggled their new toes and grinned. "You done?"

"Just need to do the last finishing touch. Hold still." Cyan swatted lightly at their knee, not actually touching them, then held their leg in his right hand while "examining" the cybernetics in his left. In reality, he was making a few last touches to the glamour woven into it, connecting it to Six's own werewolf magic - but after years of practicing, he'd learned how to make minor magic look like perfectly normal gestures.

Finally, with a last gentle pat, he put their leg down. "Okay, now I'm done. Walk across the room for me?"

"All right!" Six jumped to their feet in excitement, then went off at much more of a jog than a walk. "It feels great!"

"No balance problems?" Cyan didn't turn around, trying and failing to convince himself it was just because he could pick up his tools.

"Nope, not at all." Six hopped back onto the bench, grinning, and put their shoes back on. "I'll give it the full test when I get home and let you know if anything goes weird."

"Which it won't." He managed a grin back. "I already charged you earlier, so you're set for another six months."

"Efficient business as usual!" Their shoes back on, Six gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder as they hopped back to their feet. "I'll be in touch. Stay safe!"

"You too," he called after them as they bounced out the door.

Gathering up the rest of his tools only took a couple moments. Knocking back the rest of his coffee let him stall a moment longer - although he almost regretted it when he hit the sludge at the bottom. Grimacing, he finally stood up and turned around.

The man was, of course, still there - it had only been a few minutes, after all. He was looking at some of the pieces on the shelves, with what looked like a custom-made robot bird on his shoulder.

Now that Cyan had gotten a good look at him, there was no doubt whatsoever - he was definitely the same man he'd known as Derek, decades ago. The same red-black hair, the same shade of skin, the same posture and way of moving. ... Not the same ears. They were long and pointed, now, marking him as an elf or faerie like Cyan. But Cyan had been passing himself off as human at the time, too - you didn't just go around in public without pretending to be human, back then.

Which left him with a new question. Would the other man remember him? It'd been over fifty years, after all. The human he'd pretended to be would've aged and likely died by now.

"Hey," he called out across the small shop, waiting for the man to turn before giving a mischievous smile. "Looking for something?"

It took the other man a moment to make the connection, and then he laughed. "Oh hey, you're the guy from last night."

"Yep, that's me." He held out a hand - his left, out of habit, since some people got weird about being offered a robot hand - and for a brief moment, considered answering his own question once and for all by introducing himself as Adrien - a name he hadn't used in half a century - before chickening out. "Cyan."

"Fang. Nice to meet you." Fang shook his offered hand with a cheerful smile. "And no, not this time, either."

It took Cyan a moment to remember his own question about looking for something. "I didn't think so," he admitted in amusement. "So what does bring you to my shop?"

"We're new to the area," he added as an explanation, "and Trace would never forgive me if we didn't stop in."

"Damn right I wouldn't." A voice came from the robot bird on Fang's shoulder, tilting its head to look at Cyan in a very bird-like movement. "Besides, you picked the last two stops. You build this stuff?"

Cyan decided to assume that last question was to himself and shrugged. "The stuff on the shelves? It's mostly second-hand refurbished pieces." He glanced at the nearest shelves, then took down a small drone. "Like this, it's a DN-series Boot drone---"

"Ouch, that's old." The voice on the bird-bot remote sounded disappointed.

"Three years past end of life," Cyan agreed. "People sell broken things, I fix them and resell them - but that's the stuff on the shelves," he repeated. "I only build things on custom commission." With a smirk, he held up his cyber hand and wiggled his fingers where he was sure the bird's visuals would pick it up.

"Oh. ...Ohhhh."

Cyan noted the shift from surprise to understanding with satisfaction - and despite feeling a little silly about it, cast a quick glance at Fang's reaction as well.

Unfortunately, there wasn't one. But as Cyan carefully hid an equally ridiculous pang of disappointment (there was no reason to think he'd be interested in robotics, not with the bird being someone else's), Fang's absent-minded glance at the arm sharpened into sudden interest and his gaze flicked over several points - points which, Cyan knew, were magic nodes. Places he'd woven together multiple spells, carefully hidden by magic-obfuscation glamour to avoid drawing the wrong kind of attention.

Which meant that not only was he also an elf, he had a keen magic sense as well - maybe even better than Cyan's own.

Fang glanced back up, catching Cyan's eye. Cyan held his gaze for a moment, smiling slightly - then, giving into the impulse, he winked, before turning back to the bird-bot as though nothing had happened.

"Is this bird your work or a commission?" he asked.

"A bit of both. Bought the base work, did a bunch of modifications."

"Mind if I take a look?" Cyan held out a hand - and before Trace had a chance to answer, Fang lifted the robot off and handed it to him.

"Hey! I mean. Sure, I guess."

Cyan took the flapping bird-bot, raising his eyebrows at Fang as he did.

"I figured we would skip the part where he pretended he didn't want to show off," Fang replied with a grin.

"Okay but don't go giving my stuff to strangers."

"I have to carry it around," he countered cheerfully. "You can always run your own errands if you don't like it."

Cyan chuckled quietly to himself at the back-and-forth, turning his attention to the robot. A cursory examination of the casing and frame didn't show any signs of modification, which could mean that this Trace was very good. But, on the other hand....

He lightly traced his fingers across a wing, plucking gently at the rune-magic embedded into the plastic and metal while pretending to test the range of motion.

"Hey!" The bot's owner squawked indignantly through the speaker. "What're you doing to my robot?"

"Just looking," Cyan assured them, turning the bird around with another light strum across the magic. It was beautifully done spell-work, and almost definitely what this Trace had meant by their "modifications". Air control in the wings, balance aids in the head and feet, a general jedi-mind-trick bound into the core to deflect unwanted attention, anti-tracking spells deeper within.... Each spell had a different tone to it, suggesting a wizard-type rather than a bonded sorcerer. "It's an impressive piece of work. Your... modifications are expertly done; I couldn't do much better myself."

"I--- oh. Well." They didn't sound sure of how to take that - if Cyan was right, they'd definitely been able to detect him prodding at the spells, but should also know he didn't do anything to them. Which should, if nothing else, tell the mysterious bot-controller that he was skilled at magitech himself. "Thanks. I've put a lot of work into it."

"I can tell." Cyan started to hand it back to Fang, and hesitated. This time, Fang was watching him - well, his hands and the bird-bot - intently, and it seemed was a little too deep in his own thoughts to realize the robot was being returned.

"How about," Cyan continued, casually but deliberately putting the bird-bot into the dark-haired elf's hands, "I give you my contact info? In case you need any other work done."

"Oh, thanks." Fang put the robot back up on his shoulder. "Yeah, that would be great."

"You know they're talking to me, right," Trace spoke up as the bird-bot settled itself back down.

Fang's hesitation was so brief, Cyan almost thought he'd imagined it. "Why would he do that?" He smiled mischievously at Cyan. "You're no potential customer - you'd just do it yourself."

"Oh come on, I don't do all my own work."

"As much as I enjoy being fought over," Cyan cut in, unable to hold back a grin, "how about you both have the info and hire me to do tech work?"

"Now that's a much better solution." Fang smiled broadly. "Two for the price of one."

"The best deal of the year." Cyan hid a sudden pang at the expression - as familiar as he seemed, there'd been no sign Fang had any idea who he was. He might as well be an identical stranger. Instead of dwelling on that, though, he reached for the bird with his right hand and tapping the back of his knuckles against its head. "There's yours, if you accept the data transfer."

There was a short pause, then: "Got it. Nice trick."

"Are you going to knock it into my head, too?" Fang teased.

Cyan paused, then on an amused impulse, he repeated the gesture against the elf's forehead.

Fang looked startled - then amused, as he put a hand over his forehead. "Darn, it didn't work."

"Hmm, I guess it's an incompatible protocol." Cyan grinned. "Don't worry, I have an old-fashioned data transfer for you."

"Are you going to stick a cable in my ear?"

"Now that's an interesting visual, but I had something different in mind." Cyan leaned over and grabbed a business card from behind the desk, then wove a quick glamour into it before presenting it to Fang with a flourish.

Fang took the card, flipping it around to look at the back. "A business card? Really?"

"You'd be surprised." Cyan shrugged. "A lot of people who buy second-hand or custom robotics are really into having things as physical objects."

"Yeah?" Fang tucked the card into his pocket, looking curious. "Do I seem like that kind of person?"

"Maybe," Cyan answered, non-committal. "Maybe you just seem old-fashioned."

That startled Fang into a laugh. "You got me there."

"Okay, this has been great," the bird-bot said, hopping a couple of times, "but if you're done flirting, Ness says it's time to head back."

"Oh." Interestingly - to Cyan, at least - Fang looked sheepish, clearing his throat a little awkwardly. "Well. If I need any robotics, I'll be in touch."

"Looking forward to it," Cyan answered easily. "Have a great day, you two."

"Thanks, you too!"

Fang nodded, then turned with a small wave and left.

"You like him."

Cyan rolled his eyes imploringly at the ceiling. "M, at least wait until they're a block away before resorting to gossip."

Minmax smiled broadly, completely unfazed, and leaned on the counter. "Well, he definitely liked you."

"...Yeah, maybe." Cyan felt his mood deflate, like a sad balloon. If Fang was really Derek - and there was no way he wasn't the same guy, he was completely convinced at this point - but if he was, well, Cyan already had a sense of how that would wind up. Being left in a metaphorical ditch and, apparently, forgotten.

"I'm still exhausted," he said, hoping that Minmax would buy it as an excuse for the mood swing. "Last night was shit."

"You gonna tell me about it?"

"Maybe later." Cyan sighed and rubbed at his face. "Right now, I'm going to go take a nap."

"Hmm." Minmax studied him with narrowed eyes. "Did you eat anything yet?"

He blinked, thinking back over the past couple of hours. "...I don't think I did."

"I knew it." Looking satisfied, they pulled a bag out from behind the counter and tossed it to him. "It's a bagel. Eat it, then nap."

"Okay, mom."

Minmax snorted. "Somebody has to be the responsible one in this business, and it ain't you."

"Right, right." Cyan ducked behind the counter and headed for the door. "Thanks for breakfast. Lunch. Whatever it is."

"No prob," they called after him as the door swung shut.

A minute later found Cyan flopping back into his kitchen chair, staring at the bagel and half-empty packet of cream cheese he'd dumped onto the table.

"I should get a knife," he muttered, but it was a half-hearted attempt to pretend he wasn't too preoccupied to eat.

The last time Cyan had even thought about his last ex-boyfriend was decades ago. The two of them had been over. Done. Buried, presumed literally.

And then out of nowhere, here he was again. With Fang proving to be an elf, as well, they had too many things in common. He was absolutely the same man. And now that Cyan couldn't deny it any more, now that the reality of it was sinking in, a flood of feelings were coming back too. Affection and attraction; anger and betrayal. Loss. Grief. More anger.

"That son of a bitch." Cyan scowled and pushed his chair back, stalking over to the utensil drawer. "He doesn't even remember me. Why the hell am I so worked up about this?" He glared at his table knife like it was somehow personally responsible for his predicament, slamming the drawer shut.

Nothing answered the question for him, but if he was being honest with himself, he already knew. Derek - Fang, now; names were important - Fang wasn't the kind of person you just got over. Especially not when it ended with no warning and no closure. The other man had literally just... vanished. The rebellions had started in their city and the next day, Fang was nowhere to be found.

It didn't matter that it had been nearly a lifetime ago; that kind of thing stuck with you forever.

... Well. It wasn't like Fang remembered him, and it was a big city. If Cyan never wanted to see him again, he didn't have to.