“... Hi.”
She couldn't think of anything smarter or better to say to the person who was now considered her ex-girlfriend, Arden. Hi.
“--Hi.”
She never used to say hi. But a lot of things had changed, though not as many as Molly had feared they might. Maybe the most terrible parts of her had hoped for a more shocking change that would have justified the way they had split.
“Can I help you with anything?”
Usually this kind of sentence would be tinged with aggression, or sarcasm, but Molly said it for the earnest meaning of the words, and thought briefly about how she maybe hadn't said them often enough.
“Actually, I don't, uh. I don't think so. I think I just came here out of habit? Or, I guess I wasn't thinking at all.”
It was a funny, if not somewhat charming kind of emotion to find on Arden’s face: complete cluelessness. Top that off with a twinge of embarrassment. They were standing on glass shards and had both decided to put their heels down despite the fact.
“Did youuu still want to come in? You're not working, are you.”
Molly moved away from the doorway she had subconsciously been blocking with her arm. Arden shifted her weight from one leg to the other.
“No. As in, I'm not working! I. I can come in.”

Whatever frazzled attitude she has brought with her only doubled when they actually entered. Something about it resembled an animal living in captivity being released into the wild and getting its first glimpses of non-artificial light – or was it the other way around?
“I changed a few things.”, Molly started after a beat of silence. She couldn’t help but try and guess at Arden’s next sentence and get ahead of it, still.
“It’s very… different.”
That it was. Arden was never into home decor, clutter, she said. But Molly had grown affectionate towards the little trinkets she collected, little reminders of the places she had been to. The people she used to know. There were no analog photo frames in Night City.
“Do you want something to drink?”
“You cut your hair.”
Yes, then. This sector got clean water, so Molly grabbed a glass from one of the cabinets, one of the pieces of furniture that were unchanged and therefore eternal. The way the sink was oriented, she wasn’t facing her guest, but instead showing off the shorn back of her neck, silently proving a point.
“Oh, I thought it might look nice.”
“It does.”
Molly handed the glass over before gesturing to the couch, smaller in stature and somehow more worn in than the previous, more imposing model that used to stand in its place.
Despite never having seen this specimen before, Arden could guess where she would usually have sat, and chose a different spot.
“Thanks. I saw your…” Molly looked around as if the lost words could be found hiding in between her physical manifestations of memories. In the end, she gestured at the television.
A grimace crossed Arden’s face, one no camera would ever see.
“I was hoping you didn’t.”
“You were?”
What would have counted as teasing when they were an item was now something that prodded into a softer part of Arden’s imaginary, metaphorically real heart, like non-recyclable plastic. Her vocal cords – made functional by polyethylene glycol 30 – in knots. But she had always relied on Molly to walk the conversation back from dead ends. And then possibly into another.
“Are you and Crystal… Was that real?”
They both seemed to recoil from the question for different reasons.
“Of course not! We didn’t even do anything anyway, it was just a photo. I’d never do that t– With Porsha.”
Crystal’s real name was like a token of trust that wasn’t really hers to give, but she needed something. “Look,” Arden stood up, an unused glass of tap water in hand. “I’m really sorry. For coming over like this. I’ll call someone so I can leave.”
She was a great driver, until her license got revoked for lack of organic qualities.
“You don’t have to! I don’t, like, mind or anything. I thought I’d see you eventually.”
“You did?” There was something undeniably disgusting in the way she asked it. Something like hope. Molly shrugged.
“Kind of! Like maybe you forgot something here.” But how could Arden ever forget anything, anything at all, anything here. Even now, she was taking in every new item previously unknown to her and storing it away for simulations she would never run.
“Anyways,” Molly continued after waiting for a response for a bit too long, “do you want to give that?” She gestured at Arden’s work jacket, but it was more than that. It was a symbol, a badge, a beacon to the sectors of the city that didn’t usually find themselves protected by anyone. On top of that, it was the only jacket she owned, and therefore her favorite. So no, she did not want to give that.

“Sure.”

It slid off her like a second layer of synthetic skin.
In some areas, it was more like the first.
It must’ve happened earlier during work. Arden had always been good enough to protect the parts that kept her upright and moving, but occasionally not good enough to protect the parts that kept in the realm of sociability. More simply said; the machinery of her left arm laid exposed up to the chromed, ball-jointed shoulder. It would have been fine if it had been inorganic all the way through, not just sub-surface reinforcement, like Molly had convinced her back then. Now it was still fine, just ugly. At least it explained away her weird mood. Should have kept the jacket on.
“Jesus fuck! Uh! Was this here the whole time?”
This was terrible. Terrible, not because it was a horrible sight to sweep under the rug of ‘but I’ve been great’, but because Arden couldn’t even find it in herself to be snarky, like she was with the media. She suddenly felt very self-conscious at her lack of put-together-ness.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” Has she always apologized this much? “I’ll take care of it–”
She stood up again, slower this time, ready to make her departure count, when her fate was suddenly sealed by: “Bathroom’s that way!”
And she knew it, of course she did, still she blinked away a brief reality where she would be shown the way there. Alas, she had spent too many hours in that bathroom by herself to not know exactly where it was.
“Do you need anything?!”
Molly called after her as she turned on the heels of her shoes she had forgotten to take off.
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
“No, I’ve got it.”

The view from the small living room window did not promise they would make it to a nicer place without getting soaked, either. She decided she was being cruel and should enjoy their shared time together and slipped off her jacket, since the room heated up pretty quickly.
That was something, at least, and so was the fact that the couch was small enough to give her an excuse to huddle close to Arden once she sat down with her.
“What do you want to drink?”
The kitchen was not far from where Molly was sitting, and she could see into it through the trabeation, so she didn’t get up.
“What do you have?”
“Depends on how you’re feeling. Water, coffee, tea. I don’t have milk to go with either, though, if you’re that type.”
“Soda?”
“Only the boozy kind.”

That descriptor made Molly’s eyebrows rise and knot.
“I thought you didn’t drink!”, she half-asked as she found the will to peel herself away from the single pillow she had managed to find and wrap herself around and hopped over to the kitchen.
“I don’t drink in the way that you don’t smoke, excuse you.”
“UH, no. I only smoke when there’s other people smoking, makes me a part of the whole thing and I don’t get so bothered by the smell. You only drink when you’re at home, only alcoholics do that.
Show me what you have.”
The liquor cabinet, the booze locker, was much more extensive than Molly had thought. It wasn’t on eye level with her, so she couldn’t get a good view of everything, but she saw bottles in colors she didn’t know glass could be, with fancy scribbles on the labels that she faintly recognized as stylized lettering. It all looked fairly expensive.

“Wo-hoah, you are a dedicated alcoholic at least.”
“I guess so.”

Apparently being given free rein, she reached for one of the glass bodies to get a better look at the label.
“You call this “boozy soda”? You fucking dick. This is champagne. You drink champagne at home?”
“Clearly not, or it wouldn't be there anymore. I won this one, or. Pretty much everything in here, actually. Swill from all over the world is still just swill.”

There was a remark waiting just behind Arden's lips about not wanting to be called a fucking dick, but she had started to understand that this was just a matter of different vocabulary and not an actual insult from Molly, who had started to examine more of the bottles.
“These all sound real important. Uh. This one has a picture of you on it.”
This particular bottle must've been sitting further in the back of the cabinet, otherwise Molly would've noticed it first and foremost. Looking at the picture of the label, she examined it as if she were actually trying to decipher the swirled writing that cluttered up so many of the bottles in front of her. It was a candid photo just after a routine, something that wasn't taken at the expense of intruding on the moment, and trapped it perfectly because of that.
There was something she saw in that champagne label that felt like a missing puzzle piece when she looked back at Arden, who loosened Molly's grip on the glass and put it on the counter.
Something content, or happy even.
“That was a Senior B. They always give you one of these things with last year's picture when you win. A lot of effort just to rub it in that they care, or something.”
“Let's open that one! You said I could pick.”
“I'm almost sure I didn't. But, fine. Let me get glasses.”

Molly took the bottle back into her hands, satisfied with how this evening was turning out and half-skipped back over to the small couch.
“You only need to get one, I'm fine with just this.”, she said with her back turned as she waved her newest prize above her.
“Champagne from the bottle? I think you're the real alcoholic.”
“Nuh, this is totally different. It's basically like a kiss. Speaking of, can you just come over here already.”

"I'm-"
Molly startled herself with how used she had grown to just hearing the crackling of the flames instead of a human voice.
"I'm Molly, by the way.", she finally continued, much quieter.
The other princess took her eyes off the flickering light.
"You know I can't call you that."
"You don't have to! I just want you to know, and it's not like this is an official meeting or anything."
The ghost of a smile hushed across her lips. Another one of those small things Molly felt like they should last longer.
"Fine... Molly. We'll have it your way. For tonight. I guess that makes me.."
"Arden, princess of a dozen or so titles I couldn't memorize. I liked your portrait the best, also."
Arden, princess of a dozen or so titles, nodded at the compliment before moving her skirt in a way that only exposed the metallic plating, which Molly was thankful for, for her own sake.
Still, the silver metal went all the way up to the top of her thigh and seemed to have a fire of its own trapped inside with how pristine it was.
As if she could tell what the other was thinking with just a glance, Arden said: "You can come closer."
Molly didn't need to be told twice. Though she found it too awkward to scoot her seat closer to the second occupied one, so she decided she would sit on the fur that covered the cold marble tile to admire the incredible craftsmanship. Up close, she realized the metal wasn't one solid color, but rather rippled across the plates like waves of silver. It was beautiful, so much so that she regretted that her breath fogged up the surface ever so slightly.
"I've never seen this before...", she whispered with something like reverence in her voice, and when she looked up at Arden, it suddenly came to her that her eyes had a similar color to the metal. That might be a nice analogy for another moment in time.
"It's crucible steel, it's not something you would see a lot. We have a few swords around the castle made from it."
But Molly didn't care about those swords.
"Can I touch it?"
She had managed herself nicely back in the corridor, but seeing the material on full display was nearly hypnotic.

"... Yes."

It felt as smooth as it looked. No imperfections, no small ridges for her fingertips to get caught on during their travel. The surface curved slightly and the coolness of it was a contrast to the way their bodies had warmed from sitting so close to the fire.
There was one thing her fingers stopped on: it was a clasp forged from the same metal as the rest and keeping the pieces in the position they were meant to be in, encasing and protecting their owner.
That's where her hand stopped. The intricacies of the small hinge were so different from the rest of the piece and shaped in a way that seemed to meet the curves of her fingers exactly.
Her eyes flicked upwards to meet the gray ones overlooking her every move, and somewhere in that moment they came to a silent understanding of each other.
There was something between the two of them that didn't need words, only the cracking of the wood from the fireplace that produced a low flame and the quiet metallic clicking of a small metal hinge being opened.

That had been a few days ago. It turned out that there was a lot to see, around the castle and otherwise, though it convinced Molly that the grass was not always greener on the other side. Clearly, the royal gardens were not a priority. But she found things to like, she always did.
She liked the huge paintings with the icy stares, which helped her memorize the names of every important person there was to know about. She liked the hounds, too, even though they weren't very friendly and would only come to her whenever she managed to sneak some cheese from the dinner, which she also liked very much. It was the part of the day when she got to shine, literally and figuratively, even though her advisors had explicitly told her to act "passively and with care". The opposite court was not very talkative, it had turned out, so Molly had taken the chance to try and make conversation with the princess. She would speak when asked a question and occasionally let Molly know that she wasn't as unfunny as the other guests would have her believe.

She had even spent some time with her after the dinner had concluded, to show her things she had already seen and tell her things she didn't really care about. Still, Molly would never mention this. It seemed like their secluded moments of togetherness were made of glass.
For some it would be too soon to say, but Molly knew what she wanted when they briefly spoke of things that were not related to travel routes or fertility of crops, or other stupid bullshit. And what she wanted was to know more about who she was talking to, especially because this woman was not at all like what had been described to her.
Those glimpses of a person that was funny and charming and gentle - to Molly, they should last much longer than they did. And perhaps it was this want that made her too eager.

She had left that evening's dinner with a pep in her step: the council was starting to warm up to her presence, and it turned out that they did talk, only after a certain amount of wine had been poured out. It was good wine, too, but Molly knew better than to let herself become anything beyond mildly tipsy.

"Wonderful to have dined with you tonight, gentlemen. Her highness."

Molly didn't like to be called "her highness", but little objections were to be made when that exclamation had come from her (other) highness, who she had never heard being addressed as anything but that.
So she stood and gave a small bow before excusing herself as well. The council was fine, but they were not the recently found object of her affection, whom she decided to follow through the cold, decorated halls.
"So! Big plans for tonight? That was a lot earlier than usual, I mean.", she said as she caught up with the taller princess, which didn't take very long.
"Aren't your quarters in the other direction?"
"Your ladyship.", Molly gasped.
"Is it so wrong to want to keep an ally company? …We can hang out, it's fine!"
Her "ladyship" stopped walking, reminding Molly of how quiet these halls got at night. Back in her home, something like that didn't usually happen.
“I just don’t understand why you would want to. We spend plenty of time together each evening. If it’s my council’s approval you’re looking for, they seem to like you plenty.”
Maybe it was the wine she’d had, or maybe it was her natural inclination, but Molly took several steps closer then. Too close for a “diplomatic relationship”.
“Maybe it’s not their approval I’m looking for, then…”
Then, in a way that was maybe diplomatic, Molly placed her hand on the upper left thigh of the ruler just a few inches in front of her, who didn’t move away as Molly had considered she might.
The contact, however, was not how Molly had anticipated it to be like, and she had thought about this in great detail. Under the velvet, royal azure colored skirts, there was something hard - not like muscle, not like even skin.
“You forget yourself… Your grace.”, was what she heard in response to her touch.
Molly anticipated for the contact to fade, then. It didn’t.
“What… Is this?”

The silence of the hallway was starting to creep too close to the two for Molly’s comfort. She wondered for a short moment if it had been a good idea to do any of this, until her mind caught up with reality, and she realized that she really wanted to know this.

After what seemed like forever (she was sure that where her hand was sitting now was significantly warmer than the rest of the dress), her very own ladyship lifted the hem of her blue dress, the dress that made her look as elegant as Molly imagined anyone would ever be able to look. Even in the dimly lit corridor, what hid just a small movement above the hem gleamed brightly. Two things registered in her mind, then.
One, the very much feared princess of a neighboring kingdom was lifting her dress for her.
Two:
“Is that armor…?”
Forgetting herself again, she knelt down by the small exposed piece of metal, this time managing to barely resist the urge to touching it. It looked cold, and so clean that she could see the reflection of her own hovering hand until the hem, like a curtain for a play, fell down again.
“It’s not what you think.”
It was barely a whisper. The reality of the situation must’ve caught up with the both of them by then, Molly thought.
“It’s for reinforcement of that leg. There was an accident that-”
“Can I see it?”
“... Sorry?”
Molly stood up again, and was acutely aware of the lack of distance between their faces. Surprisingly, it was her who took a step back, feeling somewhat foolish from the question that had just pried itself out of her mouth.
“I mean! You don’t have to show me, but. Can I see all of it? Not saying I want you to undress in the hallway!”
Deep breath in, deep breath out.
“I’d just. Be interested in seeing it. The metal! Not just - Yeah. I’m just interested, I s’pose…..”
The silence of the hallways now wasn’t that big an issue anymore, Molly could still hear the blood rushing to her ears even when she has finished sputtering.

“Okay.”

Okay? Molly didn’t think there was a way to talk herself out of the hole she had just dug for herself, yet here was a ladder in the shape of “Okay”.
“Really?! Sorry. Really? I won’t tell anyone about it, I swear.”
Her ladyship made a small sound, something like a laugh.
“I know you won’t. I know everything you talk about, so long as it’s on my land. And I would hope that you know that, with all you talk about… Are you coming.”

Diplomatic visits really weren’t all that bad.