'It's not your fault, Cam' Aeia's voice echoed in Cameron's mind, her words filled with sincerity as they said the same thing she'd been intermittently repeating for the past few hours, 'You had know way of knowing what was going to happen. I didn't even know what was going to happen. You can't blame yourself for not realizing the unknown.'

  "Can I get another round over here?" Cameron said, waving down the barkeep from across the way, shouting to be heard above the booming synthesized electronic music that vibrated the walls of the nightclub.

  After finally mustering up the courage to leave the hotel room, Cameron had wandered the streets of Arsius Station in an aimless daze. His mind was at war with his heart, unable to both understand the weight of what Logan had said, as well as cope with the fact that he now truly was alone. Well... maybe not completely alone. Marcus had found him about an hour into his stroll amidst the packed main thoroughfare offering some semblance of solace and encouragement. Not only did he disapprove of what Logan had done, he'd reaffirmed his self-imposed exile in order to stay with his charge, going out to find lodging and hangar space with what funds he squirreled away from his own assets.

  Logan to his credit, wasn't completely heartless either if Marcus to be believed. He sold the Headsman to him at a discounted price, stating that he didn't know anyone other than Cameron who'd have the skill to pilot such a high-speed death trap, and giving Marcus enough time to gather both his and Cameron's things from the *Fenris* before sending him on his way. Still, even just hearing his former mentor's words from a proxy was enough to leave a bad taste in Cameron's mouth. He'd already lost a family once, to political bullshit and the scheming of weak men. Now he'd lost a second, to something as stupid as keeping a secret. As the minutes ticked by and he fell deeper and deeper into a pit of depression and anger, his body seemed to navigate on it's own into the same place he always sought comfort doing the same activity that he could always count on to numb his thoughts; Sitting on a squeaky bar stool while drowning his feelings with a bottle of cheap liquor.

  The bartender's smile didn't reach his eyes as he came closer to Cameron, pouring a double shot of brown spirits into his glass. It was a smile that spoke to years of working in the service industry... practiced and false. Cameron didn't mind though. He understood. No one really came to a bar looking to make friends or a connection with someone, and he wasn't about to start now. So when the young man opened his mouth, trying to make small talk, Cameron was quick to save him the trouble, waving his hand to forestall him from such activity, before sliding a stack of silver over the counter to him.

  "Thanks. You can leave the bottle."

  "You alright there, Sir?" The barkeep asked, "That's your fourth double in the past half hour..."

  Cameron sighed, "I got fifty silver with your name on it, if you stop asking questions and just give me what I ask for."

  As he said it, Cameron counted out an additional fifty and offered it to the man. To Cameron's surprise, the man didn't take it right away. Instead, he grimaced, his eyes looking at the gleaming silver bars, before moving up to regard him thoughtfully. Cameron's bruised face and sunken, lifeless us must have convinced him enough though, because he eventually reached out to take the money, sliding the bottle back in exchange.

  "Sure thing, Boss." The man said, a hint of pity creeping into his tone, "I'll be back to check on you in a little bit, alright?"

  Cameron grunted his reply, before taking a long swig from his glass, feeling the caramel colored liquid burn his throat before sinking into his stomach, as a feeling of warmth started to bloom from his stomach. It felt... comfortable in a way. A long forgotten routine that he could find solace and sanctuary whenever life felt at its lowest. A gentle sigh of satisfaction left his lips as he leaned back, rolling his head from side to side, while listening to Aeia mentally plead with him again.

  'Cam... Please stop this... Drinking isn't going to solve anything. I know you're hurting right now, but that doesn't mean you need to waste away at the bottom of a bottle. We need to plan, we need to consider what to do going forward. We need to-'

  "Oh shut up.." Cameron growled audibly, turning his glass up and to kill the remaining three quarters of his drink. Aeia had been trying and failing to coax him out of his downward spiral since the moment Logan had left. So far, all she'd manage to do was to piss him off more. Sure he'd lied... but she'd asked him to. Cameron knew that as much as she denied it, it *was* his fault. But he wasn't the only one to blame. All that code inside of her that made her the pinnacle of technological engineering, and she still couldn't say anything other than deny the truth that was right in front of them both. He didn't want to talk to her. Hell, part of him wanted to take a blade to his skull to see if he could find that part of his brain she called home, and rip her out.

  'I'm sorry Cam.' She said, 'I really am. If I can figure out a way to fix this, I promise you I will, but I can't do that here. Please say something to me... anything.'

  Cameron ignored her, pouring himself another tall glass, before draining it just as quickly. He could tell by the way her voice dimmed in volume, becoming a distant echo instead of it's usual place at the forefront of his mind, that the more he drank, the harder it became for her to speak with him. That was fine with him, in fact, he was going to see just how many glasses it took to shut her up for five minutes.

  'Cam... Please... Please talk to me.'

  'Don't shut me out like this... I just want to help.'

  'Cameron...'

  Seven. Seven drinks and she faded into the ether as a thick fog of inebriation began to take hold in his mind.

  "Finally..." He said, closing his eyes in an attempt to find a long forgotten moment of peace. Even with the loud music banging on his eardrums, he couldn't help but to enjoy the moment, as his worries and fears seemed further away than ever.

  "My my," A woman's voice said aloud, breaking Cameron from his drunken relaxation, "I know this music is bad... but I never thought I'd see it put someone to sleep."

  Her tone was soft yet husky and seductive, as even with the overwhelming bass pounding throughout his body, her words seemed to caress his ears like ears like that of a lover's secret, worming their way inside to be heard clearly over the din of the club. They dripped with an amused self-confidence and an almost bored cadence that only came with a lifetime of being sought after. As Cameron opened his eyes to get a look at this mystery speaker, he could see that his assessment was correct.

  A pair of brown eyes met his own, twin pools of cinnamon that seemed to regard him favorably in the way they seemed to sparkle in the neon lights surrounding them. A chain of pearls hung from her earring over her perfect bronze-skinned cheek, catching the light as it fastened to her nose. Each one caught the eye as she turned, guiding attention across the curves of her face to find the dark promise of her full blue painted lips. Black midnight hair hung just below her chin, cut in a bob and styled in a way that accentuated her already stunning features. Her skin was flawless and free of blemishes save for a single beauty mark at the corner of her upper mouth.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  She was breathtaking, and as Cameron took more than a few seconds to reply, she giggled in a way that said she knew exactly what he was thinking.

  "What's wrong, stranger?" She asked, running a finger through her hair, as a golden bangle on her wrist caught and reflected the colorful neon lights of the club, "Cat got your tongue?"

  "Pretty sure it's the whiskey," Cameron said, finally finding his voice as he offered a smile, "And the fact that I wasn't expecting to be among such pleasant company."

  Another giggle came, "And why not?" She asked, resting her chin on her palm, "I can spot quite a few people on that dance floor out there who could fit the description of 'Pleasant Company'"

  She pointed and Cameron's gaze followed to see a pair of scantily clad women dancing together, hips gyrating to the rhythm, as their eyes scanned the room to see just how many people were looking their way.

  Cameron chuckled as he looked away, shaking his head as he brought his glass to his lips, "Not what I mean."

  "Then what did you mean?"

  "The getup," Cameron said, motioning to her outfit, as he set his glass down and turned to face her fully, watching her look down at herself.

  While most of the patrons he'd seen were happy with wearing the most revealing or comfortable outfits they could find, her attire was more than a little out of place. A dark blue ball gown clung tightly to her figure, hugging her curves in all the right places, cut in such a way that drew attention to her hips and chest. A black puffer jacket was worn over the garment, unzipped, and cut at the midriff, giving the impression that it was designed for aesthetics rather than function.

  "Something wrong with my attire?" She asked, looking back up, her smile returning as easily as the first time she flashed it, "I didn't know this club had a dress code."

  Cameron shrugged, "I didn't say it did. I also didn't say there was anything wrong with it either."

  "Then what are you saying?" She asked, raising an eyebrow of her own.

  "I'm saying that you don't belong here," Cameron said, "I'm saying this isn't your scene, and if it is... well then it seems you missed the memo."

  She giggled again, that same giggle that Cameron had heard a thousand times by any local girl back home when they found who he was.

  "Maybe I just like to dress like this."

  "Maybe..." He said, nodding along, "Maybe not. I don't know."

  "Well..." She said, leaning forward ever so slightly, "What do you know, stranger."

  "I know whatever you're selling, I don't need to pay for." Cameron said., smirking at her.

  She blinked, digesting his words fully, before she laughed, catching Cameron by surprise. It wasn't like her earlier giggles, the ones girls would use when they wanted to make him feel interesting or funny. It was a genuine, hearty, gut clenching laugh that had her nearly doubled over, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

  "Oh Honey..." She said, amused, "I'm not that kind of girl. And even if I was..." She leaned in resting a hand on his thigh as she whispered, "I doubt you could afford me."

  Now it was Cameron's turn to laugh, shaking his head as he admonished himself, "My mistake. I'm sorry."

  She shrugged, offering a wink "No harm done. Though I will say you were right about one thing... This isn't my normal scene."

  "Oh?"

  She nodded, "I enjoy a more... refined setting, when it comes to parties. I'm more inclined to dazzle wealthy business men and GAC owners in the ballroom, than shake my ass for a bunch of low-class wannabe pilots."

  "I thought you weren't that type of girl?" Cameron asked, the corners of his lip turning up in a smile as she spoke.

  "I also said you couldn't afford me," She said, batting her eyelashes innocently, "If one of those was a lie, which one do you think it was?"

  Cameron chuckled and nodded, "Fair enough," he said, "Then why are you here?"

  She shrugged, "I like to slum it sometimes before I have to make appearances. Reminds me of my humble beginnings."

  "Liar." Cameron said.

  She giggled, another genuine expression of amusement, "Okay... Maybe so. But how would you know?"

  He pursed his lips, considering his words, "Let's just say, I've been to a few of those shindigs a time or three."

  He leaned back resting his arms on the bar top as he searched for his drink, "If you ask me... I prefer slumming it."

  "Oh really?" She asked, and Cameron could see her scoot closer, "And where exactly were those...shindigs?"

  "Somewhere, not here." He said with a sigh, as images of his family flashed in his brain.

  He looked over at her and saw her perfect face contort, showing she was deep in thought as she hummed. "Hmmm."

  "Hmmm what?" Cameron asked.

  "Well..." She said, matching his posture, also leaning back against the bar, "I was just thinking about what it would take to get you to come to another one."

  He scoffed, giving her a look as if she'd grown another head, "Now why would you go and do something like that? I'm not exactly upper crust material anymore."

  "No... But you were, supposedly." She said, flashing him a grin, "Can't be that hard to reacclimate."

  "But why me?"

  She gave another shrug, running her fingers along his forearm, before tracing the outline of one of his thread jacks. "I need a date."

  "I'm sure you're not exactly hurting for choices," Cameron said, looking down as he watched her fingers.

  "This is true... but It's rare that you find someone who can play the role of both sides of the coin. The rough and tumble pilot, and the dignified, semi good-looking, high-class date who doesn't talk that much."

  He scoffed again, shaking his head at the absurdity of the situation, "I don't even know your name."

  She smiled, tip toeing her fingers up his arm until they reached his neck. She placed a finger underneath his chin and pulled him closer until their lips were just inches apart.

  "You can call me Priya..." She whispered.

  Cameron gulped, whispering back, "Cam... nice to meet you."

  "Cam..." She cooed, manipulating his head once again until her lips were practically pressed into his ear, "Would you like to come with me for a night of fine dining and dancing? I'm sure I can make it worth your time."

  Cameron's heart hammered in his chest, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut, trying to shake the feelings of expectation and desire that began to well up, the copious amount of liquor he'd consumed doing nothing to help his rational thoughts.

  "Fuck it..." He said with a sigh, "Where's the party?"

  She backed off now, smiling victoriously, "Have you ever heard of Fletcher Kahl?"