Chapter Text
Connie laughed as she stood. “Oh stop being such a sour puss.”
Zinc gave her a glare as she walked away. He sunk down in the booth and buried himself in the book he was reading further.
“So’s Zinc, what cha readin’?” Zebedee asked softly, looking at the young man buried in his book.
“Nothing you know,” Zinc muttered, flipping a page.
“Well, sure maybe I don’t but maybe I might wanna read it, never know?” Zebedee laughed awkwardly.
Zinc was quiet for a moment, then carefully put his bookmark into his book.
“Well, it’s a thesis book written using the proletariat experience in the hard labour of the slaughterhouse industry, and this slaughter house industry is used as the basis to show the disabling and horrible conditions of the labourers work and shows how uncontrolled industry leads to unfair power exchanges, including focus on intentional disabling work for immigrint betas and how at risk and poor women are coerced into rape and prostitution at the absense of male aphas and betas,” Zinc flipped through the pages of his book with his thumb, looking at Zebedee intensely. “I’m re-reading it to recontextualize this work against my new experiences, but I’ve already written a thesis on it and am quite familiar with the text. Do you want to read it?”
Zebedee gave an absent stare back to Zinc, before shrugging. “Sure, sound’s interesting.”
Zinc slid the book across the table to Zebedee. “Don’t mind my annotations,"
Zebedee picked up the book and opened it, nodding dismissively. “No issue, I need a new book.”
“Zebedee what is wrong with you, I’m not sure you know how to read let alone read something that dull without pictures.” Zug laughed, he elbowed Zip next to him, who squeaked and gulped.
“W-what do you mean people die in the meat industry.” Zip squeaked.
Zorran pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Don’t think about it too hard, Zip.”
“B-but what do they do to those people, and t-the women-” Zip started to break up.
“Well, usually it’s quite simple, women who are disadvantaged or put in a position where their boss has an unreasonable amount of power over them end up having to succumb to violence, often sexual in nature, to-”
“Can we stop talking about this?” Zaffre cut over Zinc, her voice quiet and shaken. “I-I don't want to talk about this.”
Zinc nodded curtly. “Of course, ma’am.”
Connie skipped back to the table, carrying a drink and something behind her back. “Oh, are we socializing?” She beamed at her brother.
Zinc huffed and leaned back. “Unfortunately.”
Connie leaned forwards and put what was behind her back in front of Zinc.
Zinc lit up as the glass of milk came into his view, “gee, thanks!”
“Of course,” Connie chimed, she kissed Zinc’s cheek as she sat down with her scotch and picked up his wine glass and took a drink, “sister tax.”
Zinc snorted, “of course.”
“Oh, you're siblings?” Zebedee mused, turning a page in the book. “Thought you was cousins.”
“Nope, little brother and big sister.” Connie giggled.
“It was 8 minutes,” Zinc seethed.
“Twins?” Zaffre chimed, “you two are from the same batch and he ended up like that?”
“Well someone needed the brains,” Connie giggled.
“Well after you kicked me in the head for 9 months I ought to take her brain and give her the mush she left me with.” Zinc hummed.
“You love me,” Connie chirped, leaning her head on his shoulder.
“Unfortunately,” Zinc snorted.