Page 14 of Static/Cling

“The patch says Ralph,” Bjorn muttered. “He doesn’t even know my name?”

“That’s the name that was on them.” Kassian got up and took the overalls from Bjorn. “Look.” He exposed the inner lining he’d spent most of the night fabricating.

Okay, so he had safety-pinned it to the inside of the overalls, but really, he’d had to get at least some sleep. An hour hadn’t been much, and the liner could be attached better later. He was proud of the fact the filigree wires he’d embedded between the heavy cotton of the used overalls and the anti-static fabric were almost invisible except where he had carefully bent them over at the edges to contact Bjorn’s skin. He’d been very careful not to leave any sharp ends poking out, just the rounded bends to make contact and conduct the static away.

“There are micro-fibre wires under the fabric that will conduct the charge you naturally build up to these receptors.” He showed them the metal cuffs around each wrist. “And the fabric lining will dissipate any over charge harmlessly.”

He picked up one of the boots he’d included. “These heavy rubber soles will help in not accumulating more of a charge than the suit can handle. The gloves are just an added insurance that you don’t accidentally zap anything.”

Bjorn still looked unhappy, and Leif frowned.

“I’m not wearing that.”

“Maybe it’ll help?” But Leif didn’t look convinced either.

“I’ll wear the boots,” Bjorn said after a minute. “See if that makes any difference, but I am not wearing Ralph’s overalls. Orfucking rubber gloves.” He took the boots and sat, kicking his runners under the wooden desk so he could put them on.

“I spent all night on that.”

“The concept is a good one,” Sal offered from across the room.

“Execution sucks ass,” Bjorn muttered.

“I was working with what I could get my hands on. I’m hardly a clothing designer.”

“Maybe you could have taken Ralph’s name off,” Roger offered. “I’d hate to have to wear something that said I was someone I’m not.” He scrubbed lightly at his neck. “You don’t want to be wearing someone else’s name tag.”

Sal patted his shoulder. “No, honey, you don’t.”

He smiled at them, and Kassian could see the puppy in him tail wagging and drooling over their attention.

“Well, unless you plan on sitting at your desk with your hands in your lap, you’re going to have to wear it,” Kassian told Bjorn.

“This is stupid,” Bjorn muttered. He turned to Leif. “I told you this last night. I don’t belong here.”

Before anyone could say anything, he strode to the door and banged his way out.

“Bjorn!” Leif hurried after him.

“Well done,” Sal said.

“Yeah.” Roger plunked into his chair. “Well done.”

“Fuck off, both of you.”

He didn’t have time for hissy fits from the new guy. Tossing the uniform—fine, the overall—back in the general direction of the box, he returned to his computer. He had way more pressing issues to worry about.

A dozen new notifications had popped up on his screen while he’d been trying to placate Bjorn.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Furiously, he started typing.

“What?” Roger asked.

“Just…” He focused on his work, because if he didn’t get this under control, he would be in deep shit. If he got caught, it wouldn’t just be the government after his hide.

“What did you do?” Sal asked, getting up from their desk and approaching.

He could feel both of them hovering over his shoulder, and it was not helping his concentration.

---