his chair, leaning back from the desk that seemed crowded despite the fact it only had a com unit, his work handheld, and a computer sitting on its smooth black surface.
Tina wondered how he could function with seven vid screens activated. They hovered above the desk, giving it that cluttered aspect that threatened to give her a headache. Fortunately, Yorso’s office was otherwise bare, except for the shelves containing print books he’d gotten his greedy hands on.
She concentrated on her Imdiko. His smile was more of a leer, doubtlessly brought about by how she was dressed. Due to her running all over the site all day long, she’d opted for clothes which were comfortable yet durable. It was early spring, but days tended to be cool, especially in the morning and evening. Her sweater was proof against the chill, but lightweight enough for when the afternoons warmed up. It clung to what curves she possessed, as did the jeans she wore.
Yorso had a thing for her in faded blue denim. Tina wasn’t exactly sure what the attraction was, but hey, she liked being tied up. Who was she to make fun of her clanmate’s fixation on how she looked when she put on a pair of jeans?
And clingy sweaters. She snapped her fingers. “My face is up here.”
“Sorry.” His grin broadened.
“No, you’re not.”
“No, I’m not.”
Tina laughed at him. Fair was fair. She ogled him plenty. If her jeans were snug, his formsuit was more so, leaving little to the imagination. At least, the unarmored version was. As long as he was on the well-guarded site, he had no reason to wear the protective uniform with reinforced padding.
He forced the wattage of his smile to an office-friendly level. “Okay. Business then. My lovely assistant has a new plan to entertain the refugees?”
“I was thinking about a talent show. Mr. Garcia was telling me about how he used to play the guitar in a band that toured several states. I happen to know Mrs. Hatch writes poetry. Jamal juggles everything he gets his hands on. Why not invite everyone with a gift to show it off? Those who don’t participate would enjoy the entertainment. We could have refreshments too.”
“A fun night out. Well, as ‘out’ as we can offer on a rescue site. It sounds perfect. Just Earthers?”
Tina considered. “Hmm. Good point. Participating would reveal a side of Kalquorians the survivors haven’t seen before. What skills are you hoping to display?”
He laughed at the suggestive way she wiggled her eyebrows. “Nothing that would impress.”
“No hidden artistic abilities you haven’t shared?”
“I acted in vid-dramas when I was a kid, but that was ages ago.”
“You were an actor?” Envy awoke.
“For a couple of years. Believe it or not, I played the son of Osopa’s Dramok father once—he was a famous vid star before the shuttle crash that killed him—but I didn’t meet Osopa until he reported for duty on the spyship.”
“Small universe. I always wanted to act.” Tina blurted it before she could stop herself. Her face warmed.
Yorso regarded her with surprised interest. “Really? Have you had any opportunities?”
“I was a tree in a school play when I was seven.” She begged her body to sink into the floor. Silly, silly fantasies. What had possessed her to admit to her private dream?
Yorso snickered until he noted her discomfort. His tone gentled. “That’s the interest we were looking for you to develop. You should have said something sooner.”
“I’ve never done it.” Standing with her arms spread, leafy branches clutched in her fists, and covered in painted cardboard hardly counted. “How can I be any good?”
“It’s the same as any other skill you work on. If you’re really drawn to it, that counts for a lot. Motivation is more than half the battle. Let’s train you.”
She didn’t dare hope. “When do you have time?”
“I’ll make time. This is great. I’ll have to download some exercises. Elocution. Improv. We’re going to have so much fun.”
Tina wasn’t sure about that. She’d humiliate herself, then her precious dream would show itself to be awful in reality.
Before she could mount a refusal, Yorso’s com beeped a text alert. He clicked it, and another holoscreen popped up. Tina couldn’t read Kalquorian, so she ignored it.
“A group of refugees was just brought in. Mostly small children. Ten infants, fourteen toddlers, six ages four to five. Four adult women.”
She got up from her chair and headed for the storage closet in his office. “I’ll grab the goody bags. So many little ones at