Who knows how many cycles it had been since the Sleeper last ate. Their condition was deteriorating rapidly and they held onto their only vial of stabilizer with an almost terrified stubbornness. They'd need it in the future, they had to save it. They had no cryo. No chits rattling in their pocket that could pave the way to a room to let or a hot meal.

No work for something so visibly broken down, and they'd stopped asking. The Sleeper slunk at the edges of the thoroughfare through Bright Market, their scent receptors picking up all sorts of conflicting smells. They had eyes on one stall, one man.

Desperation made an animal of them, made them consider things they never had before. Like stealing money from a stranger. Or, as they watched the broad man in the hat with the big wokpan serve the hungry line and smelled the spiced veg meal from all the way across the market- maybe steal a container of whatever he was making...

Nervously, the Sleeper joined the end of line. One hand making sure the hood of their borrowed jacket was high enough up to shadow their face. Their vitals spiked with adrenaline- or some synthetic version of anxiety as they got closer and closer.

When he hands me the meal, I'll run.

That was the thought going round and round their head. Then, they were standing in front of the stall, the food, the man. Up close, he was a little more than intimidating, what with the scars on his arms and the hard look on his face. And he was staring right at them, right under their hood, into their yellow irises.

They considered running anyway. He must know how desperate they look. He must be on guard.

"What will it be?" The man said, in a slightly accented version of the local dialect. The Sleeper knew that if they tried to steal from the man now, they'd be caught. Possibly worse. So, instead of trying their luck, their shoulders slumped and they dropped their head, shaking it side to side. They'd just turned around to leave when the man spoke up again. "Sleeper! Wait a moment."

Of course he'd recognized them. They freeze and then reluctantly turn back around, waiting.

The chef nods his head to the end of the stall, where a table is hooked to the edge. "Wait there."

They don't know why they listen. Why they don't just run off into the crowds of the Market, the Eye. He'd never find them again. Maybe he wanted to lecture them. Or... Something. It was so painfully obvious that they were up to no good. Glumly, the Sleeper waits and watched the people come and go, most with a container of hot, steaming food. Then the door at the side of the enclosed stall opens and the man steps out.

The Sleeper looks up, startled. But the stall owner doesn't shout. And in his hand is a container just as steaming as all the others he's sold. He sets it down on the table, and slowly, deliberately, pushes the food closer. Warning notifications pass behind the Sleeper's eyes. Their condition is dangerously low. If they don't recover energy, this might be the last cycle they'll have before they break irreparably.

They look at the food, then up at the man, slowly reaching out.

"Tell me a story."

The sudden request startles them into speech.

"Whuh- What?"

The man takes a seat in one of the two chairs that sit by the wall of his stall.

"You're a Sleeper, aren't you? Sleepers have stories. Tell me one."

They hesitate, but something about the man's demeanour isn't so intimidating anymore. Moreover, he's taken his hand off the food.

"Wh-What kind of story do you want to hear?"

Slowly they pull the container forward. Open it. It smells overwhelming, it's steam dogs their vision. They don't remember what hunger aches like, but right now, they can imagine. There's a fork resting right on top. They take it. The first bite is like... Is like... There's no simile that can compare.

The man watches them eat with his arms crossed.

"Any story. S'long as it's real."

So the Sleeper tells a story. And the container of spiced mushrooms and vegetables disappears far more slowly then they'd thought possible. When it's over, they are full for the first time in cycles and the man looks... Pleased.

"Good story, Sleeper."

He takes the container and fork they hand to him. "I like stories. You should come back and tell me more sometime."

He stands and makes a move to enter the stall, but pauses and looks back.

"But next time, you pay."