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Only something tells me she's not what I think she is.
Something tells me she's stronger than she looks.
The cuts on her hands tell a story of ferocity and bravery in the face of peril. The cuts are deep, but they tell me she's not afraid of what's going to happen to her. They tell me she's not afraid of the future. She's strong. She's going to fight. She's going to try to find a way to escape.
"It's a ship," she whispers, staring directly at my stolen vessel. It's floating in the center of the warehouse.
"Yeah, and it was a bitch to park here," I say, trying to lighten the mood. I want her to calm down, want her to feel comfortable. What has been through the last few days? She’s dirty and bruised. I doubt she even realizes what a mess she is. She’s still beautiful, despite the injuries. They couldn’t take that from her, but she’s hurt, and I need to help her heal.
"How did you get it inside?" She looks around the room. "It's too big to fit in the doorway."
"Thank you, Captain Obvious," I say before I can stop myself. She cocks her head and looks up at me, trying to figure out what the hell I'm talking about. The look of confusion on her face is too much, and I burst out laughing. “It’s a joke,” I say, but she doesn’t seem to understand. "My brother and I like to watch old Earth films," I admit quietly. I lower my voice, as if this is some sort of dark secret, and she nods solemnly.
I wonder if this woman has ever seen an Earth film. She's human, of course. It's obvious. Her pale pink skin and gentle scent give that away. Still, maybe she wasn't on Earth before it was destroyed. She's young. I'd bet anything she was born a refugee, born on another planet that took in humans during the wars that raged on Earth for years.
"That wall," I jerk my head toward the back of the warehouse. "Is a door. It slides over and opens into an open space."
"So you can fly your ship out there," she says.
"Yeah. It gives me the perfect spot to leave from, actually."
I was lucky to find this place, but I don't tell her that. That's not something she needs to know right now. She's scared enough with needing my baggage on top of that. She's scared enough without needing to know that I'm scared, too, that I'm running for my life, that if the wrong people find me, they'll torture both of us.
They'll hurt her just for being near me.
No, she doesn't need to know that.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
"May I get down?" She asks politely, but I shake my head.
"You're going to cut your feet," I say. "Let's get you on the ship first. Then I'll let you down."
"What's your name?" She whispers as I approach the ship.
"Quinn," I tell her.
"Quinn?"
"Is there something wrong with my name?" I ask. I press a button on the bottom on the ship and input a series of numbers that lowers a small ladder so we can climb up. "Hold on tight," I say, and she wraps her arms around my neck as I climb up the ladder.
"No," she says. "There's nothing wrong with Quinn. It's just different than I thought."
"What did you expect my name to be, little human?"
"I'm not little," she wrinkles her nose, as if the idea is distasteful to her.
"You're small to me," I insist.
"Maybe," she says doubtfully. "I thought your name would be hard to pronounce. Maybe something with a lot of vowels. I'm not sure."
"I'm simple," I say. We reach the top of the ladder and step inside. As promised, I set her down on the floor of the ship.
"Oh!" She says quickly, staring at the floor.
"What's wrong?"
