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“Nope. God, it’s good to be out of those casts.” She stood up. “You’ve no idea how much of a luxury this is.” She sat down. Then stood up again. Then walked over to the fridge and returned. “Heaven.”

Her ass was definitely heaven.

“Dude, my eyes are up here.”

Smirking, I told her, “You put it right in front of me.”

“I expect an ass picture in return later on.”

“You mean the ones from the satellite weren’t good enough for you? I almost froze my balls off doing those snow angels for you.”

“It was grainy—”

“HELP!”

I cast Michael a glance.

“Rude,” Star grumbled.

“If you think that will help you,” I told him grimly. “You’re mistaken.”

“HELP!”

“Can’t you shut him up? That’s why God made duct tape, Conor.”

“I need him to talk or I’d tape his mouth. Want to see what my prototypes do?” I inquired.

“Sure,” she said as Michael screamed again.

Turning the laptop around, I triggered the program, and as he yowled like a cat, Star laughed.

“That’s awesome!”

The sounds of electricity whizzing along the airwaves sent shivers down my spine.

I loved electricity.

Without it, there were no computers.

No code.

Nothing to hack.

Life would be so boring without it, and there was nothing more fucking damaging than a live current.

When the program ran its short course, Michael started sobbing.

“He peed himself,” Star pointed out.

“Yup. That’s the second time he’s done that now. How long does it take for ammonia to rot skin?”

She pursed her lips. “I’d say a day.”

“That’s something to look forward to.” I plopped her on a makeshift table at the foot of the bed so she could get a better view of us both. “Star, meet Michael. Michael, meet Star.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Michael,” Star chirped.

“I don’t think he’s being rude,” I murmured, “just trying to catch his breath.”

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