I cogged what this asshole was all about about before he even ground out two sentences.
“Where do you keep the, uh” he paused and let his eyes sweep all four walls of my store, “lubricant?” He asked.
It’s the way his eye slits barely opened as he took in my shop. Like he couldn’t be bothered to look for real. Or worse, that looking with his whole optics would somehow sully him.
It was a simple request, though. Guys like him only cared about what could keep them moving. Function over all. Still, I was surprised he had ventured this far into the stacks without enough of his own lube to get back out. Something about this guys felt off, beyond the fact that he was definitely an asshole.
“You run out of the good stuff?” I asked as I stepped out from behind the counter to go retrieve a canister of AX11 “lite n tidy” oil. If his internals matched his make then he was probably all fine teeth and springs on the inside - much too refined for grease patches, which were my usual prescription for anyone running dry halfway through the stacks.
His eyes took in the room in another sweep of the slits, but he didn’t seem quite so arrogant as he did last time. Something about how he was holding his claws in front of him… He was scared. Was he checking for other customers? Enforcers?
“Uh” was all he managed to say.
I stopped and turned to face him. Yeah, he was scared of something for sure. His speech box fizzed like he was trying to queue up a message, but couldn’t decide on what to actually say.
“What kind of lubricant did you say you needed?”
”…” more static from his speech box.
“Would this be lubricant geared for… speed, would you say?” I asked. An innocent question, but I brushed by cranium as I said it. My implication was clear: was he after illegal mind enhancing substances?
His eye slits shot open, but by his posture I could tell I was on the right rail. He stepped closer towards me. Conspiratorial.
“Yes” he said, “it’s important that I get where I’m going fast.”
Our eye slits locked together for a full 30 ticks. This guy didn’t look like an enforcer, or a thief, but then how could you really tell? Finally I told myself that if he was trying to rob, detain, or degear me, he would have put more effort into being likeable.
“Right this way” I said, as I let him into the back, where I kept an inventory of essential supplies. Usually it was resolved for customers in the resistence, but they were sparser every cycle. Maybe I could make use of this guy, who looked to my eyes like a walking payday.