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I’m relieved because saying, “Quin?” is easy. He nods, so I point to Lizard.
“Nilt,” is his answer and now I’m stumped. I mean, Cinq was easy. There’s a bit of an Italian twist to Cinq’s accent making me think of cinque.
Not Milt but, “Nilt?” I try and he grins. So even aliens like hearing their name. Not-As-Tall mutters something and I’m sure he’s feeling bitter. I smile and point at him.
“S’Tou.”
And I thought Nilt was a problem. Not Tall’s name sounds like a cross between Stew and stow. I try, “Steow,” adding an “ah,” at the end for good measure. The others snicker but he doesn’t, so I try again, thinking about the slight pause he’d given. “S’tew? S’tow?”
He nods. “S’Tou.”
“Nice to meet you, S’Tou,” I say and his expression softens as if he’s pleased. Crisis adverted thank God. Now Cinq’s pointing at me, and I say, “Jessica.” Each one mangles my name for a few seconds before I hold up my hands to stop them. “Jess.” I point at me. “Jess.”
The shortened version is easier for all of them so I smile. Cinq’s giving me a searching look before he says, “Jessihk-ha.”
Sexy and I actually don’t mind his accent, even if he’s adding a few too many “h’s” into the mix. “Jess,” I say, and nod. “Jess.” Shaking my head and holding up a hand, I say, “Jessica.”
Cinq stares at me for a second, his eyes cloudy at first, then clearing. “Jessica.”
I smile despite feeling shaky inside like my heart’s a jumping bean. He worked to get my name right and now I know how seen the others must have felt. He returns my smile before holding the bowl Wings, or rather, Quin brought me.
And now, we’re back to fighting. I take the bowl, still smiling, and get out of bed. All four of them watch as I leave the room, following when I leave the living quarters. There’s one way I know of to get the point across that I’m not eating the food here. Not now. Not ever.
