Chapter Forty-Seven – In Which Lucy Does Politics

Chapter Forty-Seven – In Which Lucy Does Politics

“The cost of a vote?

Last election cycle the cost dropped when a mobile game company traded votes for waifus. It was one of the most popular elections in a while!”

–Interview with Nimbletainment’s CPO, 2035

***

Burringham–I don’t know why, but some people just had a sort of… family-name only kind of face, and Jeff here was definitely one of those–took a moment to glance around the store while standing in the entrance. His gaze swept right by me without ever lingering before his attention was caught by one of the butler-looking guys.

He started to chat with the butler, an easy, happy chatter that seemed to put even the uptight butler at ease. The two of them started to move towards a booth that the butler was gesturing at–Burringham’s secretary in tow–when Lucy and I intercepted them.

“Hey there,” I said with an easy grin. “You’re Burringham, right?”

“Jeff Burringham,” he said with a handsome smile. “A pleasure. I didn’t expect to meet anyone that knew me here!” He glanced at the store clerk, one eyebrow raised in an obvious question.

The man cleared his throat. “This is Miss Stray Cat and her companion; she is a local samurai.”

Burringham’s other eyebrow joined the first. “A samurai! That’s wonderful! To think that I shop at the same place as one of our protectors.” He extended a hand my way, and without really thinking I shook. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Stray Cat. Ah, it is Miss, correct? She-slash-her?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Actually, I’m here because you are.”

“Really? I’m hardly that famous, at least not yet. I hope nothing I’ve done has been so abhorrent as to require the intervention of a samurai.”

I shook my head. “No, not what you’ve done. Come on, if you still want to shop or whatever, then that’s fine. I want to chat, not interrogate you or whatever.”

I knew that no matter what that guy would be on edge. It reminded me a bit of the very, very infrequent visits by psychiatrists and social workers of that sort at the orphanage. They never directly questioned the kittens that thought weirdly, they always tried to play that ‘I’m actually your friend’ card before that. This time I was playing the part of the corporate-paid shrink though.

“Certainly, though first I would love to introduce myself to your lovely friend here.” He smiled at Lucy and extended a hand to her. Instead of shaking it though he bowed over it and kissed the air over her knuckles. “You must be Miss Stray Cat’s girlfriend, I presume?”

“Yeah, I’m Lucy,” Lucy said. She had a bit of a flush toher cheeks, but it disappeared almost as soon as it had appeared. “How’d you know? Good augs?”

“No no, augs won’t tell you that kind of thing, not at first glance,” he said. “But body language, that will. You two seem close. After that it was all an educated guess. So! Clothing!”

We all moved over to one of the booths that was nearest. It was wider than some of the others, and without the more concealing walls to the sides. Perfect for a smaller group like ours to chat next to. The butler-clerk faded into the background, as did Burringham’s secretary.

“I’m looking for an outfit for a gala I’m holding tomorrow night. It’s a big affair. Lots of folk from a few industries, some political types, plenty of paparazzi and those sorts. You know the kind of event I’m talking about. Really shouldn’t have put off finding an outfit until this late, but I’ve been run ragged these past few weeks, and when the incursion happened, well, that ruined more than one plan, I think.”

“I can imagine,” I said.

“It’s going to be memorable, I hope.” He stepped up before the wall of the booth and the image of him before us was suddenly wearing a well-tailoured suit. “A bit too plain, don’t you think?”

I looked at the suit, then shrugged. “I guess. Black goes with everything.”

“Including the background, you won’t stand out in that,” Lucy said.

Burringham laughed. “Good point! So, I’ve been chatting for a bit, but that’s hardly fair to you, I imagine your time is important.”

“It’s… somewhat urgent, yeah, but the kind of urgent that’s best considered. If that makes any sense.”

“It makes plenty of sense,” he said. “Miss Lucy, do you think I could do black with a brighter shirt and tie underneath, or should I try something entirely different?”

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it’s taken without the author’s consent. Report it.

“Feels like undercompensating,” Lucy said as she eyed the display.