![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
There was a spot on the fire escape at The Angel where the signal was good and clear at the moment. Mal more or less lived there for the next few days.
If the fire doors were open to cool the evening crowds, she got a free soundtrack of half decent tunes. When they were shut, which meant a few minutes flirting with Lesh to be get her to use her swipe card to let Mal out, there was a constant deep throbbing bass that resonated though the iron structure and up her tail bone.
The deep shade between the buildings kept it pretty cool, and third story was high enough to catch the breeze, distant enough from the all day café that she wouldn't be distracted, but close enough to her tribe that Mal could relax enough to let her brain drift into the proper pattern for her assault.
All in all the perfect location.
It was tough work - hour on hour of building foundations, testing out approaches, evaluating information, judging what shortcuts could be taken based on a hunch, or an instinctive grasp of the structure of things that came closer to zen than traditional comp sci theory. She finally hit that sweet state about six hours in on Thursday.
Three hours more, and her college record showed a modest 3.8 average for the year's courses, with a dissertation entitled "Warchalking : legalities and subculture (practical applications)" noted against her research class. She awarded herself a 4.0 for that.
Half an hour and two pills later she was celebrating on the dance floor.
The next afternoon brought confirmation that her hack had not been detected.
She owed Neo his date.
On Sunday, he claimed it.
Mal strongly suspected the main reason Neo had refused to tell her where they were going was because she'd have never stopped laughing otherwise.
Facing the slight but somehow powerful figure exuding calm control from the confines of a battered booth it had made it only slightly easier to keep a straight face. However, the implications of insulting the woman or the generously sized bouncers who policed access to the club had given her enough of an edge to hold on to. Just.
Trust Neo to bring her to Trinity as a first date.
They hadn't stayed long : a whispered conversation between the two, a short audience for Mal, and then perhaps five minutes for Trinity to work her magic over Mal's precious new laptop, and they'd been quietly, efficiently, dismissed. It had been hard to forget those dark eyes, and the almost tangible sense of obligation. Perhaps expectation would be a better word, Mal reflected.
Trinity was - something else. Power and skill and calm amusement. Mal had felt all of five years old.
Mal shivered and pushed that train of thought away.
It was surprisingly easy to replace it with other memories of their day.
Her innate competitiveness refused to let her believe that a desk jockey computer nerd could beat her at DDR, and somehow they'd ended up sweaty, dishevelled and laughing, before he'd finally taken that kiss. Taken, not stolen after all.
If the fire doors were open to cool the evening crowds, she got a free soundtrack of half decent tunes. When they were shut, which meant a few minutes flirting with Lesh to be get her to use her swipe card to let Mal out, there was a constant deep throbbing bass that resonated though the iron structure and up her tail bone.
The deep shade between the buildings kept it pretty cool, and third story was high enough to catch the breeze, distant enough from the all day café that she wouldn't be distracted, but close enough to her tribe that Mal could relax enough to let her brain drift into the proper pattern for her assault.
All in all the perfect location.
It was tough work - hour on hour of building foundations, testing out approaches, evaluating information, judging what shortcuts could be taken based on a hunch, or an instinctive grasp of the structure of things that came closer to zen than traditional comp sci theory. She finally hit that sweet state about six hours in on Thursday.
Three hours more, and her college record showed a modest 3.8 average for the year's courses, with a dissertation entitled "Warchalking : legalities and subculture (practical applications)" noted against her research class. She awarded herself a 4.0 for that.
Half an hour and two pills later she was celebrating on the dance floor.
The next afternoon brought confirmation that her hack had not been detected.
She owed Neo his date.
On Sunday, he claimed it.
Mal strongly suspected the main reason Neo had refused to tell her where they were going was because she'd have never stopped laughing otherwise.
Facing the slight but somehow powerful figure exuding calm control from the confines of a battered booth it had made it only slightly easier to keep a straight face. However, the implications of insulting the woman or the generously sized bouncers who policed access to the club had given her enough of an edge to hold on to. Just.
Trust Neo to bring her to Trinity as a first date.
They hadn't stayed long : a whispered conversation between the two, a short audience for Mal, and then perhaps five minutes for Trinity to work her magic over Mal's precious new laptop, and they'd been quietly, efficiently, dismissed. It had been hard to forget those dark eyes, and the almost tangible sense of obligation. Perhaps expectation would be a better word, Mal reflected.
Trinity was - something else. Power and skill and calm amusement. Mal had felt all of five years old.
Mal shivered and pushed that train of thought away.
It was surprisingly easy to replace it with other memories of their day.
Her innate competitiveness refused to let her believe that a desk jockey computer nerd could beat her at DDR, and somehow they'd ended up sweaty, dishevelled and laughing, before he'd finally taken that kiss. Taken, not stolen after all.
Tags: