Xavier was halfway to the exit when the surgeon's voice cracked through the shop like a thrown wrench.
"Hey. You. Scarface."
He stopped and turned, already tired. "What now?"
"You don't just walk out after something like that," she snapped, hands on her hips. "You haven't paid me."
He blinked, then rubbed the back of his neck. "Right. That actually slipped my mind. I had a lot going on in my body just now." He looked back at her. "What's your fee?"
"One hundred and fifty thousand USC," she said immediately. "And don't start bargaining. There's no discount."
He studied her face for a few seconds, long enough that she narrowed her eyes. "I'd have done it for free if you'd had more Axiom," she added, defensive. "That stuff alone—"
"Terminal," Xavier cut in.
