“Sel,” - Leo’s new acquaintance corrected, - “My name is Sel.”
“Oh, alright, sorry. Kat just said…”
“She knows,” - Sel grimaced, swatting a lock of neck length dark blonde hair off their face, - “She’s just an asshole.”
The concrete under them was still warm from the day’s sun, evening breeze stitching through the humble grass of the roof almost silently. Their backpacks, mostly spent, were lying open behind them. The city’s evening murmur was splashing below, a sea of car honks and AC hum and serious nonsense of conversations and kids’ laughter. They were over its surface here, waves hungrily gnawing at the eroded walls of the factory two stories below.
Sel drank the rest of their can in one long gulp, crushed it, wiping a trickle of sugary liquid off the corner of their mouth. To Leo’s surprise, they did not throw the can away, but reached behind to put it in their backpack.
“How long you’ve been running around here?” - Leo asked, idly, hoping to prolong the mercy on his aching legs.
“Three years or something like that. I mostly just hang around, don’t mark much,” - they yawned, - “Good place to scream when you need.”
“Yeah, looks like it.”
He took a sip and once again immediately regretted it. The blast of fructose flashbanged his tastebuds, leaving a sensation of fine sand between his teeth.
A giggle coming from his side informed Leo that Sel noticed his reaction.
“Not gonna finish?”
“No thanks,” - he spit down into the concrete pot of green below, trying to get the aftertaste out.
Bracelet-weighed hand snatched the aluminium can from his fingers.
“How do you drink this shit?”
“Years of practice,” - the mysterious tagger smirked, - “It’s cheap and fills thirst. Just gotta tell your brain to shut it for a few minutes.”
Their eyes were focused somewhere far in the direction of descending sun, past the roofs of neighboring buildings. Evening gave the tanned skin of their round face a very slight brass tinge.
Leo spit again, to no avail. Sel giggled.
“You could probably use it to clean kettles.”
“Yeah works pretty well.”
Another can crushed between thin fingers. Yawning, Sel stretched their arms upwards, back arching, and dropped backwards onto the roof, their worn green long coat evidently serving as a blanket or a sleeping bag too.
“Used to sleep up here sometimes. No one comes to the roof.”
“I can see why,” - Leo rubbed his thighs with his palms.
“If you squat here for too long eventually you’ll have a visit. But if it’s a couple days no one gives a shit.”
“Why would they even care?”
“Idunno, quotas probably.”
“Shitheads,” - he chuckled.
“You tell me.”
Another inconsequential silence. Leo thought about lying down to let his back rest too, but thought it would be weird. He looked out, letting the sun warm his face as well.
“What else you do usually?”
“Sing, dumpster dive, witch, smoke pot.”
“Witch?” - Leo glanced at them in disbelief, - “I thought that pays well.”
“If you got a college degree yeah it does. I look like I got a college degree?”
“You don’t.”
“Damn right I fucking don’t,” - they laughed, near-flat chest shaking under the grey sweater, - “Coven heads all sold out anyways, fuck em.”
He thought of the now useless brick of his Hitachi laptop hidden away on the top shelf.
“Yeah, fuck em.”
“Got a taste of their services eh?”
“You could say that,” - he could not contain a tense grimace.
“Over what?”
“Copyright infringement,” - he spit into the evening void a third time, now with bitterness, - “Can’t call homies overseas no more. Everything except ATMs refuses talk.”
“Shiiit,” - Sel sighed, - “How long?”
“Four years, six left.”
“That’s a new low, Jesus Fuck.”
He could feel a spike of anger in their raspy voice.
“At least now I get some cardio in when hanging out,” - he joked, sadly.
“True,” - Sel exhaled, - “Gon live long and healthy. Unless you huff something that negates the effects.”
“Not yet.”
A beetle took off from a little flower patch a floor down, heading across the gap to the roof of an adjacent block. Leo watched it, idly, as its erratic trajectory took it from being a shape to a dot to too-small-he-cant-see-it-anymore. His lungs finally ceased their warnings, recovered from the ascent.
“You got any red left?”
He pulled his backpack closer, ruffling through the aerosol cans.
“Nope.”
“Shit, guess I gotta improvise for the Horrific Stabbing Scene ahead.”
“Mustard blood.”
“Sounds tasty, I’m in,” - Sel laughed loudly, - “When’s your train back?”
“0532.”
“Man, you must be so good at planning ahead and not getting stuck waiting outside for whole night.”
“I know.”
“You can wait at my place if you want. Beats freezing.”
That was highly unexpected.
“You sure I’m not a plant?” - he squinted at them. Sel’s face was peaceful, head resting on crossed hands, closed eyes facing the clear sky, - “You haven’t seen me before.”
“Kat woulda sniffed it. She got ways.”
“Alright.”
Disoriented by sudden hospitality, he turned back to face the oncoming sunset.
The apartment building was a shoddy nine-stack, concrete panels scruffy with flaking paint, sandwiched between three slightly newer but similarly unkempt twelve-stacks, row of sickly poplars shading the yard.
As they crossed the yellowish lawn, ignoring suggestions of footpaths, Sel waved up to a middle aged woman on the third floor balcony, received a similar quiet response. Leo followed them into the stairwell, past two parked bikes, a stroller tucked under the first half-flight and a sleeping dog. He struggled to keep up as Sel hopped two steps at a time to the fifth floor.
“Hi Neph,” - they chirped to the teenager smoking by the open window half a floor down from their goal.
“Yo,” - the skinny kid turned, raised her palm in a slow greeting, - “Got a hook?” - nodding at Leo. Leo felt a little too scanned for his own taste.
“Fuck no,” - Sel snort-giggled, digging into one of their numerous pockets for a key, - “Only crimes here.”
“Respect,” - the calm Neph turned back to the window, where last trickles of sunlight were extinguishing themselves on concrete wavebreakers of roofs, stained beige t-shirt almost blending in with the wall.
Coming up to the floor platform, Leo felt a foul, heavy stench assault his nostrils. One of the doors was wide open, source seemingly somewhere behind. A quiet sobbing could be heard somewhere in the unlit flat. Sel was fiddling with the lock panel, completely unfazed.
“Did someone burn alive in there?” - he wasn’t sure which one of the two he was asking.
“Dad got drunk and fucked up the stew,” - Neph responded, flatly, without turning, - “Not gonna scrape that shit off the stove.”
The door unlocked with a clack and opened inwards. Sel grabbed Leo by the sleeve and pulled him in roughly, shutting the door before the odor could fill the room. The second of darkness while they were feeling their way towards the lightswitch was filled with whirring of fans and smell of something sweet.
“Ay look who got a caaatch,” - trickled a high, clear voice from the main room as the lamp over the door flicked on. There was a quality to it that made Leo freeze up, alarmed on some primal level, though he was unsure of what it was exactly.
“Hi Moss,” - Sel had already thrown off their boots and stepped ahead, pulling the coat off, - “He’s staying for the night, train at half-six, hope you don’t mind.”
“You caught some gut virus from the previous guest, not me,” - the voice teased.
“Oh shut up,” - Sel sighed, nonchalantly pulling the thick sweater over their head. Leo turned away to face the door and forced himself to take off his upper clothes, listening to the sound of fans kicking up, whirring, beeping. Something felt weird.
“Come on, you gonna stand there til five?” - Sel called to him, filling a kettle in the slightly rusted sink near the entrance, outdoors clothes already thrown over a chair.
Leo stepped towards them, out into the flat’s main space, and turned to see the strange sounding roommate. His mouth hung open in an embarrassingly stereotypical expression of confusion as he was greeted to the sight of a single narrow bed, an overgrown worktable and an entire wall of shelves housing a nonsense-jumble of electronics, fruits of dumpster diving by the looks of their housings. No human in sight.
“Oh pleeeease,” - the voice flowed out of the speakers near the desk, tones folding into an exhausted expression with tiny but noticeable delay, - “This look again. Sel, I told you to warn them in advance!”
“Don’t tell me it’s not funny,” - Sel’s laughter came in chunks from behind him.
“That has had diminishing returns since the third time,” - the speakers were judgmental.
“Idunno, if I told him he’d freak out and choose to sit at the station probably.”
“Yeah, I would,” - Leo shook his head, finally regaining control of his face, - “You didn’t tell me you were this high profile.”
“What you mean,” - ceramic clinking from behind indicated that Sel was washing something. Probably mugs or glasses, - “Every self-respecting witch got a demon. She’s my demon.”
“I thought they were simple demons. Class Lament or whatever, no talk,” - finally tearing his eyes away from the living wall, Leo turned to face them. They were wearing light cargo shorts and a long-sleeved shirt, now reaching into one of the kitchen counter shelves.
“Demon classification is an oppressive social construct made up by big wiz to sell more aligners,” - cut Moss’ speakers from behind him, - “I refuse classification.”
“Sorry,” - he mumbled, still not entirely believing his senses.
“You like red or green tea more?” - Sel asked, throwing leaves into one of two cups they produced.
“Don’t know, don’t drink often.”
“You’ll have red,” - they determined, taking a loaf of bread out of another counter and throwing it on the table, - “Take out cheese and tomatoes from the fridge, I’m gonna heat something up.”
Feeling confused, but no longer threatened, Leo obeyed.
The soup’s main components were red beans and potatoes, but mixed up with something that gave it an earthly smell and a viscous, though not unpleasant, herbal aftertaste. Sel finished their bowl a lot faster than Leo, ending its time with the living in a barbaric gulp, and was now destroying the second sandwich in a row.
“Eat faster, they will take all of the sandwiches if you don’t stop them,” - hinted Moss from the overgrowth of her wall.
“Uh-huh,” - Sel confirmed with a full mouth.
Leo couldn’t quite fall into the bit, too occupied with studying the strange abode.
Almost half of the space not dedicated to Moss was the workplace, area under the windows packed tight with gutted computers and stacks of boxes. The worktable at the heart of this organized madness was complemented by a strange contraption suspended above, a metal frame secured to the wall and ceiling with many rigid clasp-arms stretched towards the table, holding jumper cables or bags of screws or screwdrivers.
The remaining space allowed for a narrow couch, a bed with a bedtable and a couple shelves. The sheets were unmade, thick blanket a little hill on the side.
“Made an octopus to help you,” - Leo nodded towards the rig, choosing deceit tactics to try save his promised bread and cheese.
Sel gulped down and took a long sip from their cup.
“Usually hear it’s like a spider,” - they glanced at the thing, - “Thin and spindly. Dunno myself which’s more accurate.”
“Neither,” - Moss cut in, - “Cephalopod arms are meaty and spider legs don’t grasp shit.”
“Nerd,” - Sel threw towards her wall.
“Nuh uh.”
“What kinda witching you guys do anyway,” - Leo was struggling to determine the purpose of whatever disemboweled machine was currently on and in the air around the workbench, - “Aside from the obvious physical?”
“Usually netweather spells, device recovery, warding charms, DRM crunching, spirit negotiation. If some of yours kicked the bucket and are saved in Tower we can summon them too, though usually that’s a waste of time. What, wanna be our client?” - Sel giggled, stirring the tea.
“Dunno. Crunching sounds appealing, don’t like the idea of jail time for breaking my ‘house arrest’ though.”
“Boy got him third eye fucked up by pigs?” - Leo didn’t like that he could feel the smirk in the demon’s voice.
“Contractor coven under pigs,” - Sel answered for him, taking the next bite, - “Dunno which though.”
Leo took a few seconds to finish the soup.
“Fractal Light Limited. Fucking assholes they were,” - wiping his mouth and reaching to the sandwich plate - “Banger cooking, what spice you put in there?”
“No idea how it’s called,” - Sel waved in a non-directed manner, - “Know a granny at the marketplace, normally sells cabbages but if you butter her up with some hash she’ll hit you up with all kinds of fucked up herbs,” - they giggled, noticing Leo’s face elongating, - “You can chill out, they’re only hallucinogenic if smoked. Stomach breaks the compound down too fast.”
He laughed nervously, wiping his forehead.
“Fun living you got.”
“They rigorously tested the dosages,” - Moss commented neutrally, - “We think you’d need to dump a kilo or more into the pot to cause even mild psychoactive effects. At that point two spoons would send you to the bathroom for the rest of the night.”
“Thanks for reassuring,” - Leo laughed again, less distressed.
Sel kicked back in their chair, licking their lips with a childish satisfaction.
“I know Fractal Light,” - they yawned, - “You’re right they’re assholes. Head’s a failed strike sorceress from some bigger agency in Belarus, got her fancy license revoked and had to retrain for a shittier one. Still can’t tell an HDMI cable from VGA, I’ve heard. Bitter bitch.”
“The rumor about cables was disproven,” - Moss interjected.
“Oh really?” - Sel raised an eyebrow in her direction.
“Scarecrow and his spirit fished out CCTV footage showing her hooking a monitor to her office deck without help.”
“Shit Moss, we gotta up our game, she’s gonna catch up and eat you.”
The witch and their demon filled the room with joint laughter. The guest used this time to catch up on cheese and tomato slices he’d been missing.
“Fractal Light are well-connected with the pigs but sloppy as hell,” - Sel turned back to Leo, squinting playfully in the dim yellow light. Their loose shirt had a pattern of a big face stretched across its entire front, one half red, one half blue, - “Their golems don’t actually check your biometrics, just the ID chip hash. We can flash your ID with a new setup, if you don’t mind a little surgical intervention.”
“Hell no,” - Leo almost shouted in disbelief, - “How the fuck am I gonna get anywhere in the Stacks if you wipe my passport?!”
“Rich boy probleeeeems,” - Moss stretched, teasing.
“Oh, right, sorry,” - Sel frowned, thinking, spinning a coil of hair on their index finger, - “If we can’t flash the one you have, we could get another one…”
Leo stared at their focused face, judging.
“I said I don’t want jail time.”
“How often do you get full body x-ray?”
“Uh? Never got it, I think.”
“Then it’s fiiiiiine,” - the witch yawned, - “Get the new one implanted in the other arm, just don’t get it scanned in a public hospital if you break it. You think private clinics give a shit?”
“I don’t like this sharp turn from light use to federal crime,” - Leo frowned, staring away.
“Neeeerd,” - Moss clowned.
“Your call, man,” - Sel shrugged, stretching as they stood up and picking up empty tableware on their way to to the kitchenette, - “Don’t like it - won’t force you.”
The thought was not nearly as easy to disregard as Leo hoped it would be. He heard the clatter of dishes being dumped behind him, Sel heading towards the bed with seemingly no intention of washing them at the moment.
“Couch’s all yours,” - they said, dropping onto the crumpled sheets without undressing, pulling the blanket over, - “Moss, wake us up at half-five?”
“Sure.”
“You can drop by again when you want, don’t really care if you decide to do crime or not. Business is slow lately,” - the witch yawned at him from the bed.
“You’re awfully welcoming for a dangerous criminal,” - Leo teased weakly, suddenly remembering he was Really Fucking Tired as well.
“Bet. Only cool folks get into crime.”
“That’s incorrect,” - the demon cut in.
“Shut up,” - Sel murmured, seemingly already drifting off.
He finished his tea, deposited the dishes in the sink, flicked the lights off and dropped onto the creaky couch.
The ceiling was painted with stripes of yellow light from below, distant car headlamps crawling across the broken barcode every couple of minutes. He wondered for a bit if demons slept, and that was the last thought before his consciousness dissipated.