Page 31 of Trove’s Purpose

“Told you,” he said easily. “No reason to deal with my hands at all, eh?”

The coordinator gathered herself quickly, antennae flicking at the air. “Nonsense. We can fix that right up for you. We have a miniature mediring for just such occasions. There are many reasons people end up with, er, scarring or warping of the claws, and we’re happy to tend to them.”

“Really, it’s fine,” he assured her, putting his hands back in his lap. “Put twice as much effort into her claws instead. She’ll look far prettier than me regardless, I assure you.”

The coordinator hesitated, the need to do her job combating with his refusal for just a moment, before she smiled in agreement and turned to summon someone to deal with his toes. Though he wondered if he could defer that as well.

With her gone, he could focus on Chee. On the look in her stormy eyes. He wasn’t quite sure he liked it. It wasn’t pity, but there was a hint of understanding there.

“Don’t worry,” he assured her, making a show of relaxing back into the chair. “They don’t hurt at all anymore. It’s been years at this point.”

“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“You can ask,” he wiggled his clawless fingers. “But it’s not at all a relaxing story, so I’ll save it for another time.”

She nodded once, accepting his refusal for what it was. She asked next instead, “They said they can fix it. Does that mean they can grow them back?”

“They could,” he nodded easily.

“So, why don’t you want to?”

He looked her way and gestured at her. At the long, puckered scar taking up so much of the right side of her face. “Why did you not let them repair your scars when we were doing the skin treatments?”

“Because I wear this scar proudly,” she answered immediately, no hesitation, her head coming up high. “I will keep my scars because they’re proof of my strength and the love of my parents. Nothing will make me get rid of them.”

He chuckled. “Ah. You’re one of those then.”

“One of those?”

“The ones who consider scars to be an honor.”

“Scars can be an honor,” she agreed easily, reaching up to touch the marks on her face. “If you want to wear them with pride, they are. Their proof of how much you’ve survived. Of what couldn’t kill you. Of all you weathered. They’re beautiful.”

“I agree,” he smiled easily. “Your scars are beautiful. Your face is enchanting.”

“Thank you.” She lowered her hand, looking at him with a seriousness that made him want to turn away. “If you agree, then why didn't you look at your own scars like that?”

“Like what?”

“That.” She gestured to his face. “You didn't look proud. You looked… resigned.”

He shrugged, putting his hands behind his head, doing his best to look as relaxed as he could despite the tension coiling in his gut. “Unlike you, I don’t see my scars as marks of pride. I don’t see them as anything but scars. They’re just tougher tissue where something used to be. That’s it. There’s nothing shameful or honorable about them. They just are.”

“So, why not let them fix them? If they mean nothing to you. If it doesn’t matter either way. Why not grow them back? It’s included in our package.”

“It’s not that important.”

“Exactly, so let them do it.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not acting fine.”

Smirking, he lowered one of his hands and held up his longest fingers, curling them suggestively in the air. “Trust me, I’m much better without them.”

Chee scoffed. “Not everything comes back to sex, Trove.”

“Just the fun things.”