Page 218 of Fatality

Did she just flick me like fucking misbehaving child?

“What the fuck?” I catch her wrist before she can pull it away.

In one quick movement, I lunge forward, sending her onto her back as I pin her against the mattress of that long chair.

“Don’t ever do that again.”

“Then don’t talk about my work like it’s worthless,” she snaps back. “You’re the one who asked. So, deal with the answer.”

My grip tightens for a moment before I force it to loosen.

She's right, I did ask.

“So, traditional, what is it?” I ask whispering, my voice tight.

I look away for a moment.

I hate this, depending on her, being curious about something only she knows.

Then from the corner of my eyes, she smiles.

A real smile, a full one.

I've never seen it on her before. I slowly turn my head back, just to get a better look at it.

Fuck. It's...

I can't even think.

Her smile.

Even if she's making fun of me, even if it’s because she is winning this whatever this is, it makes my chest tighten.

I need to get a fucking grip.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Stop smiling like a damn idiot,” I grumble. “And answer the fucking question.”

“Traditional is what people call the ancient, original way.” She pauses. “I read books about the old world, when Kairo-9 was different, less synthetic, less fake, less everything. More real.”

She glances down at her own hands.

“Tattoos were done like this, by people with their own hands, mainly.”

My eyes widen.

“Like me in my garage?” I ask. “When I work on my cars with my own hands and use my tools?”

“Yes, exactly. You don't use the robots, you use your damn ugly ass hands.”

I ease back slightly, taking some of my weight off her. I ignore her sassy comment.

My gaze drops to the hand braced beside her head, I lift it, open my fingers then slowly close them again before reaching for her hand.

It's so small, so delicate and yet... I know she can be an absolute beast when I push her too far and use them to beat me—even if she never wins.

Those little hands create, they're the only tools she was born with in a world where everything is made fast, where everything is synthetic, where anything authentic has become rare.