Page 52

Sawyer

The hazy, sticky stench of body odour, drinking games and fuckery clings to me like shit on fur as I practically fall from the bed. Walking like the Evolution of Man, I eventually find myself upright just in time to trip face-first into the door as Nik opens it inwards. I cry. He laughs. Apparently this is an absurd continuation of last night, with more hangover-from-hell and less white girl wasted.

“Morning… feeling a bit delicate, are we?” he asks as I hold my forehead and squint at him through a single eye, managing to nod gingerly. He gently offers, and I viciously snatch, a huge can of Red Bull, seducing me with its condensation and offer of refreshment and caffeine. My mouth feels like I’ve been licking mangy cats, and tastes like they’d been rolling in fox piss.

Eventually I wake up enough to throw on another Liska-provided outfit and follow Nik out into the bar, a bit busier today than it has been. As I emerge through the doorway, the characteristically British cheer reverberates against my skull. Pieces of the night that I’d rather forget slowly begin emerging. And continue emerging to an apparently now well-rehearsed football-fan-style chant of “We saw ‘yer’”. Fun, fucking annoying, and somehow affectionate.

After the usual round of “I fucking didn’t” conversations and being told more than once how much I “fucking nailed” You Learn by Alanis Morissette on the bar to the karaoke machine, I sit down with Nik. He’s in pretty good spirits, and seems to enjoy watching how much I let myself go when intoxicated beyond all reason.

My Red Bull is replaced with a cup of tea, and conversation turns to more pressing and serious topics. I have so many questions, but I can’t just bombard them at him. For his sanity, if nothing else. So I start, pretty easy, keeping it breezy

“So, what happens now?” I ask, nailing the nonchalance

“What do you want to happen now?” he counters

“I’d not really thought about it” I confess. Well. That’s not strictly true. I’ve thought about a lot of things. Especially in my post-murderous not-yet-paralytic phase last night. I hide my forehead behind the extended sleeve of my hoodie, hiding the foolish blush of a teenage girl emerging from somewhere within me. I would’ve been playing the wedding march and internally calling myself “Mrs…” except that I still don’t know his surname. “But… and this is so awkward to ask at this point…”. He raises his eyebrows at me waiting for the question. “What’s your full name, like Nicholas…..” waiting for him to finish. He laughs again, it’s a warm laugh, he doesn’t have to tell me how ridiculous I am.

“Not Nicholas, actually… Niklaus, Niklaus Kraft… pleased to meet you, I guess” with a smirk

“Well, Niklaus… I Sawyer Stones” I decide to play on my own name, because he’s already had some mileage out of it, and so has everyone else. And how do you even take the piss out of Niklaus Kraft? “Do you have a middle name?” I ask him.

“I do, yeah”

“Are you going to share it with me?”

“Conrad” he sighs. I know there’s a joke in there somewhere, there’s something, that’s why he was reluctant. Niklaus Conrad Kraft…

“Nik C Kraft? You were a Marine, with the name Nik C Craft?”

“Mhm.”

“Did you ever nick a seacraft, Nik C Kraft?” I snort

“There’s a reason I’m former forces, Ms Stones”

“I don’t like ‘Ms’, actually”

“Oh here we go, feminism?” he smirks

The uncharacteristic deadpan in my face reveals my true sentiment, before I really meant to. We are not getting married. We are not filming a Netflix documentary called Married At First Murder. Stop it, Sawyer, you’ll scare him away girl. Pah! I mock myself, every universe, every cosmos, remember?

“…One day” he winks, without me saying anything

“One day what? I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I scoff in a hurried panic because he definitely definitely didn’t catch me, but I don’t think it’s very convincing based on his singular eyebrow raise.

“Seriously though, Nik… where do we go from here?”

“Seriously, Sawyer: Where do you want to go from here? Whatever you want, we’ll do it”

“Whatever I want?” now it’s my time to pull a face and raise my eyebrow

“Yup”

“Fine. I want to go to the Maldives, and then to the Caribbean”

“Alright” his tone is flat and serious, and it makes me scoff

“Alright? You’re unemployed, babes, remember? I don’t think Universal Credit covers that kind of travel”