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“No,” I said dryly. “No, it’s not.”
He sighed. “If you don’t like my jokes, then why are you so upset if I don’t feel like cracking any, then?”
“Because the world needs your aggravatingly awful sense of humor!” I exploded. “Otherwise, it’d just be full of people like me. It’d be a dark, oppressive, hopeless void. And no one wants that. Especially me.”
I growled in absolute annoyance and rode on ahead of him, because this entire conversation was pissing me off. How dare he get me to admit so many of my feelings for him?
He caught up with me a moment later.
“Hey, Quilla,” he whispered, reaching out and taking my hand.
“What?” I whispered back, without pulling away. For once, I craved the contact, and I didn’t care if he knew.
His gaze softened as he slowly lifted my fingers to his mouth and kissed my knuckles. Then he closed his eyes and drew in a long breath, taking me in. When he exhaled, his lashes fluttered open and he smiled softly.
“A man tried to sell me a coffin once,” he said. “But I said that was the last thing I needed.”
I blinked at him with no idea what the hell that meant. But then this mischievous sparkle entered his eyes, and I realized he’d just told another one of his horrible wordplay jokes.
“Jesus,” I shrieked, slapping him on the arm as if outraged. “That has to be the worst one yet.”
He laughed. “Worst one, my ass. All my jokes are completely awesome in their own right.”
Shaking my head, I sighed as if disgusted, while inside I sighed in great relief.
Indigo touched my arm briefly, falling serious again. “I’ll be fine,” he swore to me. “After I get over my funk, I promise you, I’ll return to my same insanely charming and irresistibly magnetic self. So stop worrying. Okay?”
I arched an eyebrow in censure. “I’m not worried,” I argued. “And I don’t recall saying anything about you being charming or magnetic.”
“Oh, you implied it,” he swore. “Heavily. I could tell.”
When I snorted, he chuckled. “How about this? If you promise to ground me to reality every once in a while, I’ll promise to teach you how to dream.”
The allure of such a deal tempted me. I suddenly remembered everything I ever wanted when I was little, and how Melaina would slap each wishful idea right out of my head because it was either unfeasible or unsafe. Over the years, I had learned to stop wanting so much. But things I’d always kind of wanted to tell Indigo bubbled to the surface now. Just small, trivial things, and yet things that made this sensation of wanting feel attainable again.
“Your great-grandmother,” I blurted. “The one from Earth.”
He furrowed his brow, confused. “What?”
“She was famous,” I told him. “Back there, where she was born. After she disappeared and came here to the Outer Realms, she became probably the most famous pilot their world had ever seen.”
His lips parted in awe. “So you heard stories about her? On Earth?” Eyes glittering with delight, he moved his horse unicorn eagerly closer to mine. “That’s amazing. My grandfather always told me stories about her, too.”
I nodded, feeling a strange kinship with him for being able to share that one detail. “I watched a movie about her once,” I added.
His brow furrowed. “A movie?”
“Oh! Sorry.” That was right. He’d probably never heard of a movie before. “A movie is like a—”
“I know,” he said. “I’ve heard about them from my friend Bison. I just didn’t realize watching them was something a lot of people did.” Producing a sudden grin, he added, “Bison always calls me Indiana Jones because of some movie he’d seen.”
“I saw that one too.”
I had loved watching movies. I think I missed them the most. Or maybe books. Actually, it might be a tie over which one I missed more. I’d been a great fan of stories, no matter which media they came in.
Tipping my head, I realized the name he’s just said sounded familiar. “Bison?” I repeated.
“Yeah,” Indigo confirmed. “He’s a Replacement who came to the Outer Realms when you went to Earth.”
