Like Fire and Powder

05. Pain and Pride

The aim of the wise is not to secure pleasure, but to avoid pain.

-- Aristotle

IIIII

People go through so much pain trying to avoid pain.

-- Neil Strauss

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You'd lost track of how long you and the boys had been at the party. It could've been two hours, it could've been four.

You were dancing one second -- then propped up against the door leading out to the balcony the next, desperately trying to find a trash can in which you could vomit.

The balcony seemed empty, and you were surprised because you vaguely remembered Kamski having invited you and Connor to hang out on said balcony. You were trying to put together a coherent thought when your stomach lurched, and you flung yourself forward, closing the glass door behind you.

You looked left and saw that the far side of the balcony was empty, and had a trash can, so you wobbled over to it and knelt behind one of the outdoor couches. You clutched the silver can to your face and threw up in it.

You weren't surprised that you'd thrown up; rather, you were surprised it hadn't happened sooner.

"This hangover is gonna hurt like a bitch," you whispered to yourself. You cleared your throat, trying to get rid of the taste of bile in the back of it. Slowly rising so you didn't tip over, your first thought was that you should find the boys because they'd probably be looking for you.

The Boys, you thought to yourself, giggling.

When you straightened, you started in surprise, realizing that someone was standing on the other side of the couch, staring at you with two cups in their hands. You wouldn't have paid them any attention, but that person was Elijah Kamski.

You begged your body to go into fight or flight mode, but, of course, you froze.

"You were creepy . . . earlier," you slurred, and Kamski's eyebrows shot up. "So many . . . bad vibes from you. Bad! Bad vibes."

"Ah, the truth serum we call alcohol," Kamski said. He moved around the glass table and sat on the black couch, gesturing for you to sit next to him.

You huffed. "I should -- I should go."

"I brought water," Kamski said, offering you a cup of clear liquid. You narrowed your eyes but took it, smelling it. "What, did you think it was straight vodka?"

"Like I said, you were creepy earlier," you said, holding the cup with two hands.

"You're being very ungrateful right now," he said, sipping on his own water.

"You brought me water. I'm sorry I'm not on my knees, Kamski the Charitable." You realized what you'd just said was maybe a little insulting, and you weren't sure how he would react.

You watched in confusion as he laughed, but it didn't last long, and it didn't sound all that amused.

You swallowed thickly, shifting your weight from foot to foot.

You wanted to leave and find Connor, but you were self-aware enough to understand that you had Elijah Kamski in front of you, the man who could potentially answer any or all questions you had about androids.

You narrowed your eyes in thought and then meekly walked around the couch, trying not to tip over.

Sitting down unceremoniously, you spilled some of your water on the ground, catching Kamski's attention. You both regarded one another for a moment before he moved his cup over to yours and then dumped some of his water in there, effectively refilling your cup.