Returning to the second floor of the bar, Leo found V and Jack engaged in cautious small talk.
The two strangers, still sizing each other up, had positioned themselves on opposite sides of the small square table—a makeshift border between their respective territories. Jack on one side, V on the other.
Leo walked over and deliberately sat next to V—not that Jack wasn't a great guy, but ladies first, right?
V, a lone wolf unaccustomed to close proximity, subtly scooted away.
Leo took the hint, maintaining a respectful distance.
As he settled in, V shot him a quick glance, her expression shifting slightly. "Huh. Sobered up, huh? Or did you sneak off to the bathroom for a quick fix?"
Leo rolled his eyes, refusing to dignify the jab.
V smirked. "You look way less psycho now. Back there, I was half-convinced you were about to go cyberpsycho on me." She took a sip of her drink. "Since you're paying me, here's some free advice—stay off the weird shit. Knew a solo who popped some 'Black Lace' thinking it was painkillers. Week later? Full cyberpsycho. MaxTac had to put her down."
Leo could tell she meant well, but his pride prickled. He wasn't about to let his new allies think he was some junkie.
"I don't touch that crap," he said firmly. "Just fresh chrome messing with my nerves. Plus, Night City's… a lot to take in."
"Culture shock?" V snorted. "Funny. I just got back from Atlanta. Went there thinking I'd make bank, but turns out I couldn't stand the place. Too many rules. Gangs were different too—barely any gigs worth taking. Lasted a year before I bailed."
Jack leaned in, intrigued. "What's Atlanta like?"
V shrugged. "Not here. Felt like wearing handcuffs. But hey—" She raised her glass. "Nothing beats home. Welcome back to Heywood, right?"
"Damn right!" Jack laughed, then shot Leo a mischievous look. "Heywood women, huh?"
Leo nearly choked.
V, oblivious, just stretched an arm across the back of the couch behind Leo, adopting a big sister vibe. "Anyway, boss—"
"Leo," he corrected. "We're a team now. No need to be formal."
"Fine. Leo." She tilted her head. "You strike me as the type who just broke free from some corpo family and went wild the second you hit Night City. Problem is, you stick out like a sore thumb. That's dangerous. As your bodyguard, I'm gonna have to fix that. If you can't handle it, fire me now."
For a mercenary on a fat paycheck, this was borderline noble.
Jack gave Leo an approving nod—good hire.
Leo wanted to agree, but pride demanded a counterattack. "I'm an orphan."
Jack's smile faltered.
V stiffened slightly.
Just as Leo thought his emotional nuke had landed, V fired back—"Yeah? Join the club. Orphans are Night City's biggest demographic."
Mutually assured destruction.
Leo rubbed his nose, scrambling for a recovery.
The two orphans exchanged awkward glances before turning their collective glare on Jack.
Jack, the traitor, grinned. "Mamá! Bring us some Cokes to the VIP booth! And meet my new friends!"
Betrayal.
The only guy in the group with a mom had just weaponized it.
Leo cycled through envy, jealousy, and sheer hatred before scooting closer to V in silent solidarity.
V just rolled her eyes.
Soon, Mrs. Welles arrived with a tray. Leo helped her set it down, introducing himself politely. V straightened up, offering a respectful nod.
The old woman studied them with sharp but kind eyes. "Jack, finally—friends who aren't gonna get you killed."
"Mamá…" Jack groaned.
"Your gang 'buddies' are bad news. These two? They've got sense." She patted his shoulder and left.
With his mom gone, Jack relaxed. His "look, I have a parent" flex had cost him dignity, but the arrival of Cirrus Classic Cola saved the mood.
The crisp pop of the can was music to Leo's ears. He chugged half of it in one go, then—remembering his manners—turned away to stifle a burp.
Heaven.
This beat the hell out of bitter, burning alcohol.
"Damn. You look like you just got your first hit of Black Lace," V teased.
"You don't get it," Leo sighed, savoring the taste. "This is the first normal thing I've had in days. Tastes just like I remember."
Coca-Cola. Pepsi. Gone, like so much else, to history.
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