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He pulls a pipe out from the robe he is wearing. It is pre-stuffed with a reddish kind of herb, which he lights with a spark from a handheld flint. The room fills with a lovely perfume scent, somewhat like berries and cream.
“What is that?”
“Saurspice,” he says. “The same stuff I gave you to bring you back. It’s recreational and healing and medicinal and recreational. Wait. Did I say recreational twice? Recreational. That makes three times. It’s a weird word. Recreational. Doesn’t even sound relaxing, does it? Very formal word for a not very formal sort of thing.”
He’s getting high and painting, which as activities go, is pretty harmless. I have no intention of leaving his room. I seem to be protected here, and it really sounds like Avel is going to be on his way any moment now. I guess I can relax for the first time. Maybe I should. Cake and passive smoking sounds like a decent time to me.
“Do you know when Avel will get here?”
“I sent a messenger. Depends how long the messenger takes to get to him, and then how long…”
BOOM!
The door explodes off its hinges, splintering into thousands of pieces under the massive boot of a very angry saurian executioner.
Avel’s face is a mask of rage. He looks at me for a brief second, then looks at Torin, and I can see that all his anger is about to be redirected onto the young saurian.
I move faster than I’ve ever moved in my fucking life. I throw myself up from the ground and I scramble across the bed to Torin. This movement on my part slows Avel down just a fraction. He doesn’t know what the hell is happening.
“DON’T!”
Avel stops as I shout the word with a true desperation. He looks at Torin and then at me, and then back at Torin. His expression shifts, then shifts again. He does not look any less angry.
I realize, suddenly, that this does not look good. I am high. Torin is high and half clothed. There’s paint and cake and drugs everywhere. I don’t look like a damsel who just got rescued. I look like I’ve been shacked up.
“It’s not what you think!” I am trying to explain myself, but it’s like explaining through a mouthful of stupid syrup. My brain isn’t working as fast as it could, and Avel needs answers right now, because he is looking for something to hurt. I can see the murder in his eyes. He wants to blame someone for this. He wants to do damage. And Torin is as good a target as any.
“Torin saved my life,” I stumble through the sentence. “He gave me cake.”
Torin is cowering behind me without any kind of shame. He’s terrified of Avel, and he should be. I doubt he’s ever been in as much danger in his life as he is right now.
“What is happening here?”
“I got taken by some criminals. Stupid people. Stupid saurians, I mean. They were rough with me. They were very, very stupid. They hurt me. But then I drank… a lot of something I shouldn’t have. And they were trying to get rid of me. But Torin took me, and he gave me the spice, and now I’m alive. So it’s not Torin you want to kill. It’s whoever they were.”
Avel looks over my head at Torin. “Is that true?”
“Yes. I only gave her as much spice as it took to bring her out of the juice hole. I swear. And then I put her on the cushions, and I fed her, and I sent you a message. I did what I could.”
Avel’s expression does not waver in the slightest. “I told you to go to the Ground Bar and work on the construction crew. More than told you. I sentenced you to labor there.”
“I know. I’m sorry… sir?” Torin tacks on the sir in the hopes of mollifying Avel somewhat.
“It is fortunate you disobeyed me. If you had not, my mate might very well be dead right now,” Avel says.
I shift away from Torin slightly and watch the expression of fear begin to fade from his face a little.
“That’s true,” he says.
“Yes. Without your skulking, rebellion, and criminal contacts, I would have lost the most precious thing in this or any other world.”
I don’t know what has happened to Avel, but he sounds different. The Avel I knew all of two days ago, or is it three? Anyway, that Avel would never have praised a criminal in any way for any reason. He gave me grief for a mutiny that didn’t even happen on his planet. Now he’s standing here, half-lecturing and half-praising Torin for his criminal actions.
I relax a little. The urgency of the matter appears to be over. Avel is here, I am safe, and nobody is currently dying. That’s about as good as this can go. That realization gives me the opportunity to just look at him and take him all in.
He is absolutely magnificent. His flowing dark hair, his flashing eyes, the pure focus of his attention is so intense I feel it like a physical force. Avel is the most handsome creature I have ever encountered, and my bond with him is beyond description.
“I do what I can,” Torin says, a half smile appearing on his face.
