Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 135784 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135784 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
I've fought thinking about home for long, long years. It does no good to cry over what I'll never see again, people that have long forgotten me. But smelling this overgrown greenhouse makes me remember…and it makes me sad.
"Oh, for kef's sake," I hear a short distance away.
Sniffing, I wipe at my eyes and follow the sound of the voice. He's not as close as I thought, and I have to push my way through the tangle of vines to find him. Ducking my head, I turn a corner and see another entryway, and Jerrok lounging against the door jamb. He's got something that looks a bit like a bluish-gray cigar hanging out of his mouth, a faint smell of cloves in the air. His arms are crossed over his chest and he looks utterly disgusted as Sleipnir squats by a group of plants and takes a dump.
Jerrok looks up as I approach and gestures at the carinoux. "I can't get away from you two anywhere."
"I didn't realize this area was off limits," I say in a shaky voice, swiping at my eyes again. "Do you want me to leave?"
He doesn't answer right away. Instead, he just stares at me for a long moment as I move to stand next to him. I hug my arms to my chest and look around at the plants. No flowers. Huh. This must have been someone's functional garden. It makes sense, but it also makes me sad. I'd love to see a big, cheery blossom right about now.
I can still feel Jerrok staring at me, so I give him an uneasy look. "What?"
His mouth works and he pulls the cigar thing out of his mouth and stubs it on the wall. "Are you…" He rubs his mouth. "Are you crying? I made you cry?"
I give a little huff. "Don't flatter yourself."
Some of the tension eases in his shoulders and he looks oddly relieved. "What's wrong, then?" There's an oddly gentle tone to his voice that seems…new. "Don't tell me that sight moved you to tears." He gestures at Sleipnir, who's busy trying to rake leaves over his business.
I let out a little snort-giggle. "No. I just…didn't expect to see this." I reach up and touch a plate-sized leaf, feeling the waxy surface. "My mother had a garden and it made me sad."
"Just as long as it's not me."
What a curious thing to say. He cares if he makes me sad? After being so brutally mean to me? I arch a brow at him but he's deliberately looking anywhere but at me.
14
SOPHIE
Sleipnir paces warily around my legs but doesn't attack. He watches Jerrok the Jerk closely, his big, catlike body tense as if he's ready to spring for the alien's throat at any minute. It reminds me that I need to keep my tone sweet, my comments neutral. After all, if Sleipnir kills Jerrok, I won't cry over his death, but I also don't want to put myself into a situation where I end up starving because I can't figure out how to work the equipment here on this broken-down station. So for now…I need him.
He's also being polite, which is throwing me for a loop. Well…not entirely polite. Jerrok-polite, which means he's being caustic but not terrible. He also seems to be a little distressed at my tears, which tells me he has a heart somewhere under there. My old praxiian owner used to growl at me if I cried, because it made my face puffy and he found that unattractive.
I'm also bored as hell, and if Jerrok's not snapping at me, it might be nice to have a conversation. I run my fingers along one of the huge leaves near my head, still utterly fascinated that this place exists in the midst of what feels like an interstellar junkyard. "What is this place?"
"Terrarium," he says, studying the unlit cigar thing in his hands before putting it into his pocket.
"Yes, but why is it so overgrown?" I glance over at him.
His mouth—arguably the prettiest feature he has—twists into a sarcastic expression. "Because when they replaced my thumbs I forgot to ask for a green one."
I resist the urge to snap at him, because Sleipnir's tail is thrashing. I turn back to the leaves, and the next one I touch feels fuzzy soft, like lamb’s ear. I lift it to my cheek and rub it against my skin, enjoying the sensation. "You don't have to be so unpleasant, Jerk." I keep my voice sweet, even if it sounds fake to my ears.
Jerrok shoots a look over at Sleipnir and rubs his arm. "Don't I?"
"This will go a lot better if we're friends, you know. Sleipnir doesn't eat my friends."
He grunts and leans back against the door jamb again, still rubbing his arm. It's the one that Sleipnir mauled, and I feel a twinge of guilt. Does it hurt him? He deserves it, of course, but I'm not cruel or hardhearted enough that I like the thought of any creature in pain. I sniff the leaf, and it smells a bit lemony. I can already tell I'm going to be spending a lot of time here in the terrarium in the future. All these plants—maybe I can clean this place up a bit, figure out how to make them bloom…something.