"Let me just clean up here first."
He disposed of the syringe, labeled and stored his compounds, and made notes in his research journal that looked like preliminary work on new enhancement drugs but were actually coded documentation of his personal formula.
In a way, it was a loophole. Dave's compulsion prevented Dimitri from neglecting or sabotaging the work, but it didn't specify what other research he could pursue as long as the main objectives were met.
"Come on." Petrov stood at the door. "It's not like we have to pass an inspection. No one cares if this place is a mess."
"I care." Dimitri wiped the workbench. "A clean and organized workspace contributes to productivity."
"Yeah, yeah." Petrov pushed the door open. "Let's go."
They walked through the humid evening air toward the hotel, past buildings that were still being repaired from the uprising that had torn through the island. Dimitri had never gotten the full story, but he knew that it had been the enhanced soldiers who had led the rebellion, and most of them had been eliminated. Only the eight who had become Dave remained, and that had been a mistake.
Lord Navuh should have cut his losses and eliminated them as well.
It was very likely that they had killed him, and Losham was covering it up to maintain order on the island. That was a much more logical explanation than the one Losham was providing about Navuh working from the harem.
When they entered the bar, Dimitri noted that it was a little busier than it had been the previous night, and as he scanned theroom, he wasn't cataloging faces and positions as he usually did. He was looking for Mattie.
He found her carrying a tray of drinks to a table in the back, moving carefully and favoring her left leg. She was so beautiful, and he wasn't the only one who thought so. The immortals were openly leering at her, and he wanted to punch each of them in the face to erase those sleazy expressions from their annoyingly handsome faces.
It was a fantasy, a daydream.
He was human, and they were immortal, and they could squash him like a bug. The only advantage he had over them was his brain and what he could cook up in his laboratory.
Well, it wasn't his, it was theirs, but he knew what he was doing in there, and they were clueless. Perhaps he could develop a compound to neutralize immortals. Not to kill them, but to cause them severe pain. A neurotoxin shouldn't be too difficult to make.
Mattie handled them just fine though, plastering a fake smile on her face and scuttling away to the next table, but when she saw him, the smile she gave him was the real deal.
She looked happy to see him.
The warmth spreading through Dimitri had nothing to do with the compounds he had injected himself with earlier.
Petrov followed his gaze. "The pretty waitress likes you. Just look at that smile. I forgot what it was like to have a girl smile at me like that." He sighed. "Only my Irena ever looked at me with such fondness, so I married her."
His wife had died a long time ago, which probably correlated with him developing this insane drinking habit.
He was trying to drown his grief in vodka and visits to the brothel.
"She smiles at all her customers."
"Pftt." Petrov waved a hand. "I'm an old drunk, but I still remember what a smile like that means." He steered them toward their usual table. "The question is, what are you going to do about it?"
"Nothing."
"Coward." Petrov grinned. "You are young, brilliant, and handsome, and yet you are terrified of asking a pretty girl out on a date."
Dimitri snorted. "A date? Here? Have you forgotten where we are?"
"I did not forget, my young apprentice." Petrov leaned closer, his vodka breath enough to fell a horse. "Love finds a way."
"Love." Dimitri chuckled. "You must be drunker than usual."
"Not drunk enough." Petrov lifted his hand and signaled for Mattie to come over.
She finished taking an order at another table and then walked over to theirs. "Good evening, gentlemen," she said. "The usual?"
"Yes. Vodka for me," Petrov said. "Double, and please keep them coming."
