Season 3 chapter 58
The Dance Inquiry
The heavy doors clicked shut behind them, cutting off the
muffled sounds of the assistant still complaining in the hallway.
Inside the private recovery bay, the steady, rhythmic beep-beep-beep
of the heart monitors kept a grounding pace. Kniya and Malesh practically
sprinted past the privacy curtains, stopping dead at the foot of the two
central beds.
Filoska and Salesh were propped up against their sterile
white pillows. They were wrapped in thick layers of fresh gauze and hooked up
to IV drips, looking incredibly pale and exhausted—but their eyes were wide
open, tracking the two men entering the room.
Kniya rushed directly to the side of the metal bedframes,
his hands hovering nervously over the railings.
"Salesh! Filoska!" Kniya breathed out, his voice
thick with raw concern. "How is your health? How are you guys holding
up?"
Salesh shifted his shoulders slightly against the mattress,
letting out a quiet, tired groan. "We're fine, Kniya. Still
breathing."
From the adjacent bed, Filoska slowly opened her sharp,
aristocratic eyes, looking at the ash and dirt still caked onto her bosses'
coats. She offered a weak, genuine nod. "We are surviving."
Hearing those direct verbal confirmations, Kniya's intense
panic completely evaporated. In a fraction of a second, his usual unhinged,
immature energy rushed right back into his system. He clapped his hands
together, leaning over the bed rails with a bright, entirely insensitive grin.
"Perfect!" Kniya beamed. "So, since the
doctor just guaranteed us that you made a flawless recovery... can you guys get
up and dance?"
Salesh stared up from his pillows, his face instantly
twisting into an expression of pure, unfiltered fury and disbelief.
"Are you out of your fucking mind, Kniya?!" Salesh
barked, immediately wincing and clutching his side as the shouting strained his
fresh internal stitches. "What the fuck do you think, that we will recover
from high-velocity internal bleeding in two hours?! No! We absolutely cannot
dance! I can barely inhale without my torso screaming! How the hell are you
asking a question like that?!"
Kniya's smile faltered, and he crossed his arms defensively.
"Whatever! What about you, Filoska? You have great stamina."
Filoska let out a long, deeply exhausted sigh, closing her
eyes as if the sheer stupidity of the question was physically draining her
remaining blood supply.
"Kniya, are you literally out of your mind?"
Filoska rasped bitterly. "Salesh literally just explained the exact reason
to you five seconds ago. It is the exact same severe trauma in my body. I am
not very much different from him. Do I look like I am ready to do a tap dance
on the hospital tiles?"
"Okay, okay, I got this thing! You guys are incredibly
ungrateful today," Kniya grumbled, rolling his eyes as he pivoted away
from the beds. He turned to look at his best friend, who had remained entirely
frozen near the entrance of the curtained bay. "Malesh, why are you
standing over there like a literal statue? Why don't you say anything?"
The Cost of Survival
Malesh stood quietly at the edge of the room. His ruined charcoal suit jacket was hanging open, his tie slightly crooked. He didn't look at Kniya. His dark, heavy eyes remained locked entirely onto Salesh and Filoska.
The detached, analytical mask he wore for the rest of the world was completely gone. He just looked deeply, profoundly exhausted, and thoroughly human.
"I was genuinely terrified, Kniya," Malesh spoke quietly, his voice carrying a heavy, sincere weight that completely silenced the room. "Seeing the two of them bleeding out on that pavement... it thoroughly wrecked my nerves. I don't care about the corporate fallout, and I don't care about the syndicate crossfire. I was thoroughly distressed watching my best friends take that level of severe physical damage."
Malesh slowly walked over to the space between their beds, resting a heavy hand gently on the metal footboards.
"Standing out in that hallway, waiting outside those surgical doors," Malesh continued, his deadpan delivery thick with raw, honest relief. "I was genuinely worried about the condition of their bodies and whether they would actually survive the trauma. I didn't have the energy to make a joke. I am just incredibly glad you are both still here."
A thorough, deeply touching silence settled over the recovery ward. Salesh offered Malesh a quiet, appreciative nod, while Filoska's sharp gaze softened with genuine warmth.
Kniya watched Malesh's heavy, emotional sincerity. But now that Kniya had seen with his own eyes that his friends were awake and perfectly capable of yelling at him, his protective instincts were fully satisfied. His shameless, hardcore capitalist programming instantly booted back up.
Look at you being all thoroughly emotional, Malesh, Kniya thought internally, a cold financial calculation running behind his eyes as he looked around the room. Honestly, you should really be thinking about the incoming hospital bill right now, not their physical bodies. Bribing an unhinged bubblegum specialist to reserve an entire premium emergency bay off the books is going to thoroughly gut our remaining liquid cash.
Malesh slowly lifted his head. His dark, exhausted eyes shifted away from the beds and locked point-blank onto Kniya's face. He read his best friend's shifting posture in a single heartbeat.
"I know exactly what you are probably thinking of right now, Kniya," Malesh deadpanned, his voice dropping into a thoroughly dry, accusing tone. "And it is entirely about the bill and the money."
Kniya's eyes went wide. He instantly stood up straight, throwing his hands out in a massive show of exaggerated, self-righteous defensiveness.
"No, no! I am absolutely not that kind of guy, Malesh!" Kniya yelled loudly, acting thoroughly offended. "What the fuck do you think of me?! I am a massive philanthropist! I care entirely about human life! I wasn't thinking about the credits at all!"
"You are a terrible liar, Kniya," Salesh muttered from his bed, letting out a weak chuckle that quickly turned into a cough.
The Cost of Banter
Salesh's weak chuckle faded into a dry cough against his sterile pillows.
Malesh adjusted his posture, his dark eyes locking flatly onto his best friend. His exhausted, deadpan delivery remained perfectly intact, completely stripped of any corporate jargon.
"Kniya, based entirely on your expressions, I am absolutely certain you are not lying," Malesh deadpanned coldly. "You are literally standing there thinking a lot about money. But do not worry. I will personally pay up the bill if you don't."
Kniya scowled loudly, throwing his hands up in sheer outrage. "Pay it up?! I could literally buy this hospital and turn this into—"
"Yeah, and turn this into what? What, Kniya?" Malesh interrupted point-blank, his voice dropping into a heavy, thoroughly exhausted tone. "Your reserves are bleeding out right now. Our companies have suffered massive losses in this fucking civil war. What do you expect you are going to buy? You always say like that, Kniya. Don't act so rich. You should be down to earth, bitch. You shouldn't be like that. Be down to the ground."
Kniya's jaw dropped slightly before his baseline arrogance flared right back up. He pointed an aggressive finger directly at his best friend.
"Yeah, Malesh, upon your situation, I don't think so," Kniya snapped back loudly. "And you are always lecturing me on this thing that I should be down to earth, down to earth. What are you, actually?"
"Yeah, I am always down to earth," Malesh replied with absolute, uncompromising deadpan pride. "I don't use luxurious cars like you. I use my old motorcycle, you know. I am really down to earth."
"Okay, live underground," Kniya mocked ruthlessly, rolling his eyes. "That would be the best thing for you."
Salesh let out a quiet groan from the bed, staring blindly at the ceiling. "If he moves underground, please bury his motorcycle with him so we don't have to listen to that exhaust anymore."
"Honestly, watching the two of you argue about being down to earth while wearing bespoke tailored clothing is thoroughly exhausting," Filoska added, her sharp eyes glinting with dry, aristocratic wit from the adjacent pillows. "My wounded shoulder aches significantly less than my brain right now."
But after a brief moment of comfortable, insulting laughter between the four of them, Filoska's expression slowly tightened. She shifted slightly against the mattress, fixing a highly serious gaze onto Malesh and Kniya.
"Seriously, though," Filoska asked, dropping the banter entirely. "What is the actual plan next? What do we have to do?"
Kniya and Malesh didn't even look at each other. Moving in the exact same seamless motion, their playful energy instantly dropped into a heavy, fiercely protective seriousness.
"The absolute most important thing right now is your health, and you don't need to think about it," Malesh instructed firmly.
"Exactly," Kniya agreed in perfect unison. "We are planning for that. We are here for that. We will continue. We are absolutely not going to abandon you guys. First, you are getting recovered, and then any other thing is going to happen."