when I was a kid and my parents cooked in the kitchen. I felt safe, like things were being taken care of and I could just relax.
I originally wanted to come here for a calming cup of the fungal tea Jax cultivates. I know, fungus in your tea sounds revolting, and I was skeptical at first, but it’s got a charming flavor akin to lavender. It really does help with anxiety.
Apparently some sapients will skip the tea and just consume mass quantities of the mushroom directly to enter a kind of euphoric yet slovenly state, but Jax keeps his larder well organized and inventoried.
I’d barely taken a sip when Thrase and Marion roped me into a game of Twonk. Since I was kind of wanting to be alone with my thoughts—and possibly untangle the web of feelings surrounding myself and Grantian—I tried to bow out. But when I pointed out I didn’t have any of the crispy cinnamon cookies Jax bakes for a buy-in, Thrase countered by loaning me a cookie.
Now, seeing how things turned out, she may be regretting that decision. At the moment, we’re sitting in studious silence staring at our cards while the vast majority of cookies have accumulated in front of me.
Thrase’s eyes narrow, the only part of her face visible over her fanned out hand. Her voice drips with self-recrimination when she speaks. “I’m beginning to feel as if I’ve stumbled into the trap of a, to use the parlance favored by those of ill repute, stinking card shark.”
“Don’t be like that, Thrase.” Marion frowns at her own hand. “Lamira is too sweet and innocent to cheat.”
“Aw, thanks Marion.” I grin at her over my cards.
“Of course, she’s not nearly as good a player as me, so it must be pure blind luck.” I stick my tongue out at Marion while she chuckles.
“At last, a hypothesis I can agree with.” Thrase tosses half a cookie into the pot. “I’ll raise.”
“By half a cookie? You high roller.” Marion tosses in her half of a cookie to the pot. “Your turn, Lamira.”
I wince behind my hand because I sort of feel bad for being on this hot streak. Right now, I’m holding four Priestesses (which Thrase insists on calling Companions despite their depictions clearly being Grolgath) and I’m pretty sure I saw two of the Commanders burn. For some reason I think Marion has been collecting Stardrives, which are wild this go around, but I have no logical basis for that feeling.
So, I’m most likely going to win this hand, but I don’t want to. “Gee, guys, I think I might have to fold.”
“Negative.” Thrase glares over her cards. “I insist upon seeing your cards. Come on. What have you got to lose? I staked you into this game.”
Great, like I need more guilt. Sighing, I throw in my half cookie.
Thrase tosses in two more cookies and smiles wickedly across the table at me. “I call.”
“Oh, this is going to be good.” The two women lay down their hands, and it’s as I figured. Thrase has a Skeleton Crew—Commander, Engineer, and Pilot—and Marion has three Lieutenants, but I win again.
“Fuck this stupid game.” Thrase tosses her cards down in disgust. “I need to see Nicari about our next cryosleep patient anyway.”
“Wait, Thrase, you can have my winnings.”
“Oh no. You won fair and square. Let the guilt stab you deep in your little heart.”
Thrase struts off, and I laugh helplessly.
Marion gathers up the deck and rises from her seat as well. “I’ve got some inventories to go over, myself. Take care.”
She tousles my hair on her way out, and I feel all warm on the inside. Marion’s a great gal.
That leaves me with a huge pile of cookies and not much appetite for them, but then my savior appears. Varia strolls into the mess hall, her eyes scanning the room intently. She still takes time to smile and wave at Jax before working her way over to me.
“You’re just in time, bestie.” I gesture to the pile of cookies. “Please help me with this hoard of spoils.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” Varia picks up a cookie and takes a bite out of it, crumbs sprinkling to the tabletop. She then fixes me with a somber stare and speaks around a mouthful of dessert. “What did you say to Grantian?”
“Grantian?” I feel a little thrill in my belly at the mention of his name. Damn it, but I’ve got it bad. “I—not much. I just asked him to speak