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So when it's my turn to talk, I talk about Earth. I talk about my mom, who worked three jobs to put food on the table, and my dad, who drove a long-haul truck and only occasionally came home, usually just long enough to fight with my mom and leave again. I talk about going to college and dropping out, then trying a variety of jobs, all to varying degrees of success, before…well. Before I left. And when things get too touchy, I talk about stories. I talk about TV shows and I tell Jerrok every story beat of Outlander, which I have memorized by now.
It feels like we've become friends, and I like it. I find myself laughing and smiling every day. Sleipnir likes the station, too. He's a curious sort, and there's always something new for him to stick his nose into and chew on. Jerrok's started to make a habit of stripping down a particular item of all the valuables, only to hand it over to Sleipnir, who carries it off to a corner to chew on.
When my stomach starts to growl, we pause and eat noodles for dinner. There's no vids to watch, no music to listen to, no nothing, so we work a little more after dinner, or I go out to the terrarium and garden for a bit. Jerrok usually follows me, smoking one of those terrible carcinogels or just talking in a low voice about nothing at all.
It's nice. There's always more to do, more to see, more to uncover. The plants need constant tending, and Sleipnir's a fantastic cuddler. I'm trying my hardest not to get too attached to the carinoux, but it's difficult—he's so loving and attentive, and the look of delight on his face when he's given something new to chew on just warms my heart. I know he can't be mine, but sometimes it's nice to pretend.
One morning, though, I wake up and bound out of bed, kissing Sleipnir's broad head and slipping on my boots before heading for Jerrok's quarters. We've been digging out a room adjacent to his work area, and the more that's cleared away, the more I realize the room is full of pretty paneling and a lovely mosaic floor. Once it's clear, I'm going to clean the hell out of it and talk to Jerrok about making it a rec room of some kind. We can drag some seating out of one of the broken-down shuttles floating around the asteroid and make ourselves a comfy little nest. Maybe I can transplant some of the leafier plants into pots and add some greenery. It'll give us somewhere to hang out together. Maybe we can even set up a table and play some games. Jerrok's mentioned offhand a few times that he's pretty good at sticks, and I don't know how to play many card games, but maybe we can figure something out.
The moment I go into Jerrok's work room, though, I realize my plans for the day won't be happening. He's got dark circles under his eyes, and his hair is wild and messy, hanging in his face. He's hunched over a particularly tricky bit of equipment, stripping wires, and barely looks up at me when I come in.
"You look like something the cat dragged in," I tease, my voice playful. "Everything okay?"
He doesn't answer me. Just gives a half shrug of his shoulders and keeps working.
That worries me a little, because I prefer a friendly, open Jerrok to the grunty, surly asshole. I'm starting to learn his moods, though. Usually he's impossible and sometimes downright nasty when he's hurting, or tired. He hasn't had nightmares lately, but it also looks like he hasn't slept. "You want me to make breakfast today?"
"Not hungry."
"Oh." I grab a packet of dry noodles and shrug. I can pick at them while I work. "So what's on the menu for today? Are we going to pull in that big yellow shuttle and tear it apart? Or are you finally going to teach me to fly?" It's a gentle tease between us, him teaching me to fly. We haven't had the opportunity yet, just because of a variety of things, and I like to rib him about it.
But he just pauses and his shoulders slump a little. "I'm…not in a good mood today, Sophie. You should probably leave me alone."
It's a sign of our friendship that he's come that far and not snarled at me. Instead, he's quietly telling me to quit bothering him. Strangely enough, it still hurts my feelings. "Oh. Okay, sure. I'll just go work in the terrarium, I guess." I hesitate, clutching the bag of dry noodles. "Is there anything I can do to help? Do you need a massage?"
His jaw clenches. "No. Just need some space."
