Page 77 of Alien Burn

He leaned back in his chair. The sight of her hurt in some unexpected, welcome way. For hours he had looked at damaged buildings and lists of people whose safety he could not confirm. Here was Sereya, alive in a room he knew, looking back at him.

“You should be asleep,” he said.

“So should you.”

“A formidable argument.”

“I had time to prepare it.”

He smiled. She watched him for a moment.

“Your friend?”

“Khalzin is receiving care.”

“I'm sorry.”

“So am I.”

She didn't ask him to make it less frightening. He appreciated that more than he could have explained.

“I was thinking about your hand,” she said.

He glanced down at it.

“The cut?”

“No. The rest of it.”

He looked back at her. A faint, self-conscious smile tugged at her mouth.

“I liked holding it,” she said. “I meant to tell you before everything happened.”

He could hear the work it took for her to say it plainly. He set his own caution aside long enough to give her an answer she wouldn't have to decipher.

“I wanted to keep holding yours.”

She pulled the blanket a little higher. “At the reception?”

“Yes.”

“In front of everyone?”

“Yes.”

Her smile grew. It was worth having been awake for far too long to see it.

“I didn't know where to look,” she admitted. “After you took it.”

“At me would have been acceptable.”

“That was the problem.”

He laughed quietly.

“Was it?”

“You must know what you look like.”