Chapter 6 - Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

"What's that… thing? Is it a computer?"Layla asks, staring at August while he's sitting on a stool using a makeshift laptop, the half exposed mess extruding wires and circuit boards.. The screen is cracked with barely any casing and much of the interior is exposed. August's fingers are dancing on the rudimentary keyboard as he works. 

"Yes. It was a pain to gather the parts necessary, but it was definitely worth it." August merely answers without looking, his fingers moving gracefully as he types.

"It looks interesting. But, what are you doing?" Layla's voice is filled with innocent curiosity.

"I'm trying to reach a contact of mine. I'm trying to collect a debt from him."

"Is it working?"

"No. Unfortunately, I don't even have mediocre access to a network or even decent signal strength."

"So…what now?" Layla asks, her demeanor now with a hint of being lost. "How long do we stay here?"

"Simple, we leave. I need better internet access, not to mention signal strength." August responds dryly as he turns off the makeshift laptop and folds its parts for storage.

"What? But where would we go?" Layla asks, her tone indicating her confusion and bit of trepidation.

"Northern Kabul. It's a zone still outside of the Taliban's reach." August gives Layla a once-over, his sharp gaze taking in her details. "Her features are young, but her frame, especially under the right lighting, is noticeable. Too much of a target… Could it work?"

"You need to blend in better.", August bluntly says after some deep thought, standing up from the stool he was sitting on. "You stand out. Too much."

Layla frowns. "What do you mean?"

August gestures vaguely. "Both your hair and your body. You've clearly been in puberty for a while now. If someone pays attention, they'll know for sure you're a girl." A pause, then August speaks a little softer, "It is what it is. It will be safer for you if you pretend to be a boy."

Layla's expression hardens. "That's stupid." She clenches her hands into fists, gripping around the fabric of her sleeves, tense.

"It's safe." August counters gently. "And, it won't be forever. Just for now." He leans against the wall, arms crossed. "We can wrap your chest, bind your hair, keep you under the radar when you're next to me."

Layla doesn't answer right away. "I don't like it."

August sighs in understanding, kneeling slightly to her level, his voice quieter now. "I know. I'm sorry, but I wouldn't suggest it if it didn't help you be safe outside." He walks to the makeshift bed, reaching for one of the thin blankets. He grabs a side and starts tearing out a strip of its fabric, his strength easily ripping out a long strip. He walks back to Layla, offering it to her. 

"For your chest."

Layla stares at it, then him, her arms wrapped around her body in clear hesitation. "I-I won't just-"

"Do it yourself in the bathroom." His tone is flat, offering no manner of misinterpretation. "Just make sure it's tight enough to be convincing but not enough to cut your blood flow."

Layla doesn't move right away. Her eyes are stuck on the cloth in her hands, fingers twitching slightly. "...Alright. I…trust you. But you really think this is needed?"

"Like I said, I wouldn't have brought it up."

"Okay." A pause, Then, quieter, like she is convincing herself. "Okay."

She nods once and walks away to the bathroom, the freedom to have her own pace.

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The bathroom is small, but it's big enough that she can move without bumping into other objects. The mirror is cracked, showing Layla's reflection as she scowls at it. She is frustrated as she fumbles with the strip of cloth in her hands. She's tried more than once, but she can't get it right. It bunches up, slides loose, refuses to stay in place no matter how tightly she is able to wrap it.

Her grip tightens on the fabric. Her jaw clenches.

"I can't do this."

She presses her palms onto the sink counter, head hanging low.

"I don't want to ask him. He's… I'd feel better around a woman with this, but… " She pauses her thoughts for a moment. "He saved me, he had no real reason to. I trusted him and he did nothing to me in my sleep. It shouldn't be difficult. Just… ask."

She opens the bathroom door, her heart pounding, with the cloth in hand.

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"...August." Her voice is weak and quiet at first. She swallows and tries again. "August."

Footsteps. A pause. Then his voice, calm and steady. "Yeah?"

"I need your help… with my chest."

Silence, not hesitation. Just like usual, he's processing her words to formulate a response. Then, "Alright."

He steps inside the bathroom. He doesn't question her, doesn't ask if she's sure. He just waits, his hand outstretched.

Layla hesitates, only for a second, before placing the cloth in his palm. "I tried." Her voice is quiet, almost embarrassed. "It won't stay."

August nods, his expression unreadable. "Turn around, please."

She does.

His movements are quick and efficient. No hesitation, no awkward fumbling. He pulls the fabric snugly, securing it in place like another routine task. No feeling of his fingers lingering longer than they should. No sense of being objectified. Merely the work to be done.

When he steps back, she flexes her shoulders, testing the fit. It feels comfortable, secure.

"That good?" He asks.

She nods, minute relief in her voice. "Yes." Then, after a beat. "Thanks."

"You'll need sleep. We leave by tomorrow morning, okay?"

"Got it."

Layla watches him leave, feeling a mix of gratitude and confusion. As the door closes, she takes a deep breath, reminding herself of the purpose behind this disguise. It's a small sacrifice for the safety they need, and deep down, she at least knows that an avatar of death is looking out for her.