Cyberpunk AU start: Max
House didn't visit Input on a regular basis exactly, but often enough that his face was known there. The men and women he'd spent time with he'd seen more than once, and when he arrived tonight and sat down at the bar, the bartender pushed him a Jack Daniels without him having to ask, and mentioned that they were quite busy tonight but he'd seen Isaac recently if he'd like to have a drink with him. "Yes, please tell him I'm here," House had said before taking a sip.
Though before he'd even managed to take a second drink, he heard someone shouting for a doctor.
He almost ignored it. Almost. But instead, he said to the bartender, "I'll be right back," and then slid off the stool, grabbed his cane, and headed in the direction of the shouts.
Though before he'd even managed to take a second drink, he heard someone shouting for a doctor.
He almost ignored it. Almost. But instead, he said to the bartender, "I'll be right back," and then slid off the stool, grabbed his cane, and headed in the direction of the shouts.
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"Maybe he's going to install it on himself," he said dryly, and took another sip of coffee.
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"Doesn't seem the sort," Max said honestly. "Though who knows. Once it's his he can do as he likes."
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"Using carts? It's like dreaming," Max said. "You never know how much you're going to remember or how real it will feel. Sometimes you have some control, other times it's fully scripted. Depends on what the client wants."
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"I suppose it depends on the scenario. Some things I would rather be passive in, like some of the stranger fetish stuff. Feet, food, stuff like that. It's easier to shut down and just let it happen," Max admitted. "The rougher stuff I like being alert. I want to have a chance to defend myself."
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"You think the guy selling you your Nando's on a Friday night is having the time of his life, or is just passionate about Peri Peri chicken? It's work, were paying our rent like everyone else."
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He held up his hands. "But look, I get it. You do what you have to do."
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Max wanted to argue. After all, he'd had those jobs too. Fast food, housekeeping... Tedious tasks that didn't engage him. Jobs where he'd shut down and go through the motions. It was all the same- At least sex work could be interesting on occasion.
He didn't want to argue with someone who was going to slice him open later though. Didn't matter if he seemed nice, it seemed like a shit idea anyhow.
Shrugging, he continued to sip his coffee.
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"What would I judge you for?" Max asked. "Being at Input? Not to offer more 'false equivalencies', but I'm not going to judge you for spending money on company anymore than I would if you were spending money on a curry."
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"Sure, plenty, but that doesn't make every client bad," Max pointed out with a little shrug.
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He drained the rest of his coffee. "How are you feeling?"
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"Fine, still a bit... I don't know, disconnected? Like my body knows something has been locked off to it, even if it's not important to its functioning," Max explained.
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Max hummed in agreement, nodding slightly. "Vision is better today, less jarring now seeing everything proper."
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"You made up your mind about how people view you a long time ago," Max shrugged. "You look fine, you looked fine yesterday too."
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"It's a loaded joke," Max replied, though he didn't seem upset. "Don't know you well enough to joke about your appearance, which means I can be rude or honest."
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Max got the feeling he'd said the wrong thing, but didn't know what that thing was, to be honest.
"I'll just hang out in the waiting room," he assured him. "I'll let you know when the package arrives."
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And then he headed downstairs. He didn't have any particular reason to trust (or distrust) Max, but frankly, there wasn't a lot in his home that was worth stealing or anything.
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