I mean, we can still be friends, of course. And if a friend wanted to give another friend some Pop Rocks every once in a while, there’d be no objections, but we’re square.”
Chuck’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows down his nerves, and then in a flash, he hurries away from me.
Making friends is so much fun.
I wait a minute or so and then round the corner and head back toward Zen and the others, my mind taking in all the info about Rook. As though my thinking of him suddenly summons him, Rook steps out of a door that leads up to the tower in the corner of the yard where more guards keep an eye on the perimeter. He closes the door behind him and immediately looks up, his stare landing on me. We both watch each other for a second, and I ignore the heat that dips dangerously low in my belly.
Could he really just be a coincidence? Everything I’ve unearthed at this point says that he is, but I’m still skeptical. As much as I’d love to think the universe has finally taken pity on me and offered me this visual gift as an apology for all the years of fuckery, I can’t let go of the feeling that it’s too good to be true.
As he watches me, Rook wiggles his head from side-to-side, and the moment his movement registers, both of our eyes widen in shock.
Did he...Did he just head wobble me?
Rook’s cheeks light up with a bright blush, and he shakes his head like he’s somehow answering my unvoiced question. His hands flap up at his sides, and he looks even more distressed as he slams them back down and speedily starts to walk away. I watch him hurry through the yard and disappear around a corner, a smile creeping slowly over my face.
Oh my sweet color spectrum, he totally wobbled!
I recall the last cockatrice gathering I attended and pull up the memories of the dance that male cockatrices do when they’re trying to intrigue a female. Yep. First comes the head wobble and then the arm or wing flap. Toss in some tail whips, and then the holy grail of color flashing, and you’ve got an interested male cockatrice.
Rook likes me.
My smile spreads even wider. So this attraction isn’t just one-sided! He’s totally been thinking about cocking my trice. Smirk.
After I saunter back to Zen’s group and sit back down on my designated piece of broken concrete, I am looking mighty pleased with myself.
“Hey Lizard-bird, your tail is wagging.”
I look over at Sophie and then down to my scaly tail. The orange and yellow feathers on the end are flicking back and forth like a pleased cat. Flustered, I quickly grab my tail and stuff the end of it into my pocket, inwardly chastising it.
Stop it, tail!
It’s one thing for Rook to wobble, it’s another entirely for my own instincts to start getting jiggy with an answering tail flick. Male cockatrices love a good tail flick. It draws their attention to our feathers. I snagged many a fella in my rebellious teenage years with my super bright orange and yellow feathers. I’ve been told that the plumage on my tail is fantastic.
Zen leans in. “You know, if you’re looking for information, I have a better source than Up-Chuck over there.”
I raise my gaze to her, giving nothing away. I’m really glad I have her as a sort-of-ally right now, but I wasn’t born yesterday. Everyone in here is a criminal, Zen included. And inside prison, everything comes at a price. You can only count on yourself, and trust is just a banking term.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I tell her.
A smirk kicks up at the corner of her lips. “You’ve got more than just a citrus grove sprouting out of that colorful head of yours, I’ll give you that,” she says before unfolding her legs and getting fluidly to her feet. “Walk with me, Sinclair.”
It’s not a question, and Zen isn’t the kind of person you deny. I get to my feet, dusting myself off, and make sure my tail is still tucked securely into my pants pocket. I don’t want to trip over it, and I can’t trust it not to go all flick-happy in case I see Rook again. I’d rather keep the upper hand and make him think I’m not interested. Nothing drives a cockatrice crazy like a one-sided mating wobble.