“You might have been trying to scare her off,” Alia said thoughtfully, crossing her legs at the ankles. At some point during the evening, she’d had the H’san symbol for life hennaed onto the tops of both bare feet. “Tossing her into the deep end. Seeing if she’ll swim.”
“She swims fine. Threw me in a freezing, fukking lake on Paradise.”
Alia snickered. “You suck at metaphor when you’re drinking.”
Craig toasted her, too.
And nearly coughed the mouthful back up when Pedro jabbed a bony elbow into his side. “Your woman, she’s used to ordering a lot of people around. You sure you going to be enough for her?”
Yeah, it wasn’t like he hadn’t wondered about that. He shrugged. “She chose to come with me.”
“Never doubted it.”
“Never thought for a minute you could make that one do anything she didn’t want to,” Alia snorted.
“’S truth.” Craig nodded. “Or she didn’t feel she had to.”
He could hear the frown in Alia’s voice although he kept his attention on the last swallow of his coffee. “Isn’t that the same thing?”
Pedro leaned across him, reaching for her mug. “How much of that have you had?”
“Not enough.” She easily evaded his grab and got to her feet, graceful in spite of the swaying. Or maybe swaying gracefully, Craig wasn’t entirely sure. “You two behave,” she added as she left.
“I love that woman. ¡Te amo, mujer!” Pedro shouted at her back.
Alia flipped him off without turning.
“She loves me, too.”
“She married your ugly ass, she must.”
“So are you and ...”
“Don’t know. We haven’t talked about it.”
“She took you home to meet her family.”
Craig shrugged, unwilling to read any more into that than there’d been. “I’d already met her father. Back when she was dead.” Fukking mug was empty. He pulled Pedro’s from lax fingers and swallowed a mouthful of . . . “What the fuk is this?” he gasped, eyes welling up.
“Something Kevin’s been fermenting in the greenhouse.” Pedro took his mug back and drank. “Good degreaser, too.”
He could almost feel his tongue again. “No doubt.”
“So, how long you planning to stay this . . .”
A howl from over by the empty stage cut him off as Newton Winkler ripped off his overalls, screaming obscenities. Looked like he’d gotten a couple of new tats since Craig had seen him last.
“Fukking Winkler’s been into the sah again,” Pedro sighed, hauling himself slowly to his feet.
Craig stood with him. For the Krai, sah had an effect about equal to a cup of coffee. To Humans, the mild stimulant caused—as well as a host of nasty physical reactions—delusions, paranoia, and an inability to feel pain. Craig had learned the hard way that last bit was the kicker. Hopped up on sah, the restraints self-interest put on violence were gone, and Winkler would keep fighting long after the damage he’d taken should have forced him to quit.
“Oh, fuk it, Jurr’s trying to talk him down.”
Jurr probably hadn’t intended to get his ass thrown across the room. Fortunately, Krai bones were hard enough he bounced. Also, fortunately, the cluster of people he bounced off of were drunk enough they’d probably suffered nothing more than minor bruising.
Then Torin’s left arm went around Winkler’s throat, her right hand wrapped around her left wrist forcing the hold tight. Face growing darker in the crock of her elbow, Winkler clawed at her arm, blunt nails sliding off her sleeve. His bare feet paddled against the stage, then slowed, then stopped. Torin eased him down, studied him for a moment through narrowed eyes, then straightened. “He won’t be out for long,” she snapped. “Tie him or trank him.”
Craig grinned as a couple of Krai he didn’t know moved quickly in and carried Winkler away. Their sah, their responsibility. Allowing a Human to get his hands on the liquid could mean charges laid if anyone on the station wanted to push the matter.
“She could kick your ass from here to the edge,” Pedro murmured, draping an arm over Craig’s shoulders.
“Not news.”
“Bet she’s realmente bueno in the rack.”
“Not telling.”
“You’re in love.”
Craig watched as every Krai still in the room dropped their eyes rather than meet Torin’s gaze. Even those far enough away she couldn’t possibly see their expressions, stared at the floor. Pedro hadn’t actually asked a question, but Craig answered anyway. “Yeah,” he said as Torin glanced his way. “I am.”
“. . . so try to stay away until we’ve forgotten what your ugly face looks like. Torin can come around any time, though. What?” One of the family said