Han gave him a bland smile at his denial of playing conservatively. “If you say so.”
He’d become familiar with her many expressions and knew this one meant she wasn’t going to contradict him even though she was right.
It was aggravating how often she was!
Giving up on his self-esteem for the rotation, he pointed to the square. “Please teach me how to play better.”
She beamed up at him, which made swallowing his pride worth it. “Sure!”
As she played a first move, she talked him through her thought process. He’d probably be impressed by her brilliance if he wasn’t so distracted by her soft scent and melodious voice.
It’d be easy to blame his repeated losses on being close to her, which made it hard to concentrate, but he’d never been a good player. He’d assumed he’d win against Han simply because he was Talin and she was human.
He should’ve known better.
Still, there was no denying she was a constant source of distraction. Yesterday he’d spilled her mid-rotation meal all over the floor because he turned to find her emerging from the cleansing unit with nothing but a towel wrapped around her luscious body.
That had been one of the most embarrassing moments in his life, made worse when she rushed over because she thought he’d burned himself.
His scent glands ached with bonding oil and blood flooded to his shaft. It took far too much willpower to keep from trying to tug the towel out of her grip.
All the while, she remained oblivious to his lust.
“...so that’s why it’s best to let go of a few squares early,” Han said. “Right?”
He hadn’t been paying attention to what she’d been saying, so he sounded a rumble of agreement and hoped there wouldn’t be a test later.
Halfway through this teaching game of grav, Zephrum gave up. He wasn’t good at this game to begin with, and being so close to Han that her smell invaded his nose slits meant he couldn’t focus on her patient instructions.
“Tlash tea,” he said abruptly. “I need some tea.”
Han tapped the square and shut down the game. “Yeah, tea sounds good. Make mine half strength. I think the last mug you made was so strong it stripped some of the enamel off my teeth.”
He sounded a rumble of amusement and jumped to his feet. Three strides brought him to the food storage cabinet and reconsitutor. He hated the stale packaged Tlash tea, but it was better than no tea.
“Tlash tea is good, but you should try some of our tea. Mom grows a bunch of Old Earth tea bushes in her garden,” Han commented as she leaned back against a pile of pillows. “Last time I visited I stocked up, but it never lasts long.”
“Where did you grow up that you were able to have a garden?” he asked. He’d assumed she’d grown up in a dense urban center or on a station. His images of humans out in the wild were of poverty and deprivation, except the more time he spent with Han, the more he realized he should question all his pre-conceived ideas.
“I grew up on a planet called Inneeko,” she answered. “It’s good sized, with several really large cities. It’s mostly Ugarians there, but we have a pretty good-sized population. Over three hundred.”
She frowned for a moment, as if upset she’d shared that with him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Three hundred is a number to be proud of. It sounds like your human community is thriving.”
“Yeah,” she agreed but was still frowning.
He tried to think of some way to get her talking about herself more. He was hungry for information about Han’s life but was scared to ask too many questions. Early in the journey he’d asked about why she’d been on Filsin Station. She’d said something about a last-minute job and then got quiet. He didn’t know if she was embarrassed by her work or if it was illegal.
He’d never judge her, and he hoped as they spent more time together she might come to trust him enough to confide in him.
“Is all your family on Inneeko?” he pushed.
“Most of my family is still there,” she said, stretching her leg out, and her pants rode up a little, reminding him of her ruined garments.
She traveled prepared because there’d been a second set of pants and shirt in the bag she had. The other outfit was ruined, but she hadn’t let him throw it out. She’d promised that after a cleaning, the material could be fed into a tailor machine and used to make a smaller outfit for a child.
He’d watched her seal it up in a steri-bag usually used to seal food and tuck it back in her travel bag. It reminded him that humans were a poverty-stricken species. Any Talin would’ve thrown the outfit away, but not Han. She was going to carry it all the way back home. It was admirable, if a little sad.
