Pilar clocks Rebecca, who is getting ready to leave with someone he doesn't know, and immediately fills in his version of what happens next.
He and Rebecca usually bicker like cats, but she's still his sister. Now, some random person is "kidnapping" her? Of course, he's anxious.
Before he can finish his rant, Rebecca cuts him off. "Don't use that brain full of trash to think about my business. He's my friend. Say one more stupid thing and I'll blow your head off."
The outburst leaves her simmering. She only meant to take a regular ride. Now, thanks to Pilar, it sounds like something else. Yes, he's worried, but she also feels she just lost face in front of Rocky—and regrets bringing Rocky over to Pilar.
Rocky, standing behind her, feels awkward, too. Late night. One guy, one woman. She's been drinking. Misunderstandings are natural.
"Uh, I'm just taking her for a ride and a talk. That's all," Rocky says.
Pilar ignores her anger and the pistol pointed at him. He strolls right up to Rocky. The reek of booze says he's had plenty. He circles, sizing Rocky up like a mechanic inspecting a frame—handsy enough to raise goosebumps.
After a loop, he slings an arm over Rocky's shoulder. "Rebecca's friend? Not bad—solid. What do you do?"
Feeling the muscle under Rocky's shirt and clocking the high-end power cyberware in his left arm, the tech-head in Pilar reads the truth fast: this isn't a barfly.
Rocky doesn't want to get into it. "Edgerunner."
"Same field, huh? Funny, I haven't seen you."
"Maybe I'm just a nobody."
"Heh. Doesn't look that way. Whatever. You seem alright."
They're all adults. Rocky can say "just a ride," but anyone can see something's up—especially with Rebecca. After so long together, Pilar knows her tells. He can't control her anyway. Rocky looks reliable enough; he lets it be.
Pilar leans close and lowers his voice. "If you can handle my hot-tempered sister, that's skill. Just be safe."
Rocky's mouth twitched so much while explaining. Rebecca was right about him.
Pilar pats his shoulder and wanders back. "Have fun."
"This guy—I'll deal with him later," Rebecca grumbles, holstering the gun. "Let's go, L. Don't mind him. What did he whisper to you? You look weird."
"Nothing. Let's go," Rocky says, ending it.
…
They mount the familiar bike and carve through Night City.
Rebecca hugs in, twin-tails streaming in the slipstream. "Woo!" she shouts into the rushing air.
The buzz fades from her system after a long loop through the grid. Rocky brings them to a seaside platform in Heywood. The wind here doesn't bite; it just brushes past.
They lean on the rail and watch the calm water.
"How'd it go with Lucy?" Rebecca tilts her head.
"Smooth. She agreed. Problem solved."
"Good." She nods.
"Thanks to you. Otherwise, finding a hacker would be a headache."
"Haha, didn't you say we're friends? And really, Lucy's the one helping you."
"Fair."
The night sea is quiet. Rocky enjoys the stillness. Since opening the clinic, he's juggled patients, inventory, street sales—and now this commission. It's been a while since he let his mind go blank.
Rebecca sees him watching the water and stops talking too. She also looks out—but her mind isn't on the view. Quiet nights aren't her thing. Out here, the only thing that interests her is the man beside her.
In the end, she turns and looks at Rocky like he's looking at the sea.
"Not used to this vibe?" he asks when he notices.
"No. It's just… compared to scenery, I like looking at you. You're nicer to look at than the sea."
"I'm better than the sea? That's a weird line. Sounds like old-fashioned flirting."
"Hey, don't laugh at me. I'll kill you."
"Okay, okay. I'm not laughing."
He keeps the smile anyway. Then he sets his right hand on her head and ruffles, gently.
She freezes for a beat. "What are you doing? I'm not a kid."
She reaches up to catch his hand, but there's no real strength.
"I don't think you're a kid. I think you're too cute. Couldn't help it."
He withdraws at the right moment.
"Cute? That's even weirder than what I said!" she blurts.
Given her size, she hears "cute" sometimes. But as an edgerunner with bodies in her past and a fuse measured in millimeters, no one around her uses that word.
Rocky shakes his head. "Weird? Feels right for you. I'm serious."
"Pfft. You." Rebecca's mouth curves despite herself.
If he says so, she'll take it seriously. And—thinking back—this might be the first time anyone's patted her head since she was small.
It actually… feels pretty nice?