|
|
||||||||
|
To Spite Your Face
|
||||||||
|
Silence. It
wasn’t that she wasn’t curious as to what had happened to him but
she was trying to respect his obvious wish not to talk about it. The
operative word being try. Every time she looked at him she just had to
look away quickly and suppress badly the peals of laughter that
threatened to erupt. She couldn’t help it; he just looked so… she
glanced at him again and found herself almost breathless in her attempts
to silence her mirth. She finally broke and released her laughter when
she caught him looking at her and releasing a huge sigh. “Well…
what did you expect me to do when you come back looking like that?”
Chiana asked. His
reply was stoic silence. She
tried again, only this time she stepped behind him, snuggling up to his
back, playing with the hairs on the back of his neck. “You know you
really want to tell me.” “No.
I really don’t.” John said manfully ignoring the tickling sensation
making its way down his spine. “Well...you
know the others are going to ask.” She said suggestively. “Yes
and they will get the same answer as you. None.” “But
since I was with you they'll think I already know and won’t stop
annoying me till I tell them.” She was smiling now. She had him… he
just didn’t know it yet. “But
you don’t know anything.” His reply was wary, full of suspicion and
only served to make her smile even wider. “But
they don’t know that. They will go on and on and on until I tell
them.” “Your
point being?” Worry was quickly replacing suspicion in his voice. He
knew he was trapped just not how it had happened. “I
have to tell the something and if I don’t know the truth I’ll just
have to make something up…” she trailed her voice off suggestively
lacing it with pure wicked intent. He
turned and looked at her, seeing the gleam in her eye and sighed. The
sigh of a man who knows he is beaten. “What
do you want to know?” His voice was resigned, accepting of his fate of
being the universe's bad joke. “What’s
that stuff you have written on your face?” she asked as she walked
around to the front of where John was sitting. “It’s…
well. Let's just say it's our guarantee on the spare parts I bargained
for. If anything goes wrong with them within a monen all I have to do is
take them back and… show myself. After that it will wear off.” “Hmm…”
an evil smile lit her face as she leaned forward and pulled the neck of
his t-shirt forward as she peered down it to his chest "…does it
go… all the way down?” He
batted her hand away, face flushing. “Oh...
I see.” She let loose a small peal of laughter at his mortified
expression. “And your hair?” “You've
seen them… all bald as old coots. They shaved it for me as a mark of
the high esteem they hold me in for my bargaining powers. I wasn’t
exactly in a position to refuse.” “Ah…”
she turned away idly running her hands over the various surfaces within
the pod letting his anxiety reach fever point. This was just too good an
opportunity to miss. Microts passed and she felt him relax, thinking
that perhaps she would not ask after all. So she waited longer still,
humming to herself with no apparent concern as she wandered around
behind him. Sliding
her hands around his neck and placing her mouth to his ear she
whispered… “So
if the scrawl on your body is a guarantee, your baldness a sign of
respect… what’s that on your nose?” Silence. |
||||||||
|
