03-21-2019, 04:12 PM
She realized this last comment had been made about her. Nina smiled a little. And where had she heard that accent before? She didn’t know what it was. She wondered if it was Nordic.
“That’s not necessary?” Nina echoed. She put her pack down and mopped her brow. The brisk run had reinvigorated her, but she was beginning to agree with Soren. This had been a bad idea. She didn’t really want to get drawn into this. But he deserved civility. Hostile though he was, he was still in horrible pain, so she could at least humor him for a minute or two. “Ah, let me rest with you a while,” said Nina.
This cool, bracing air through the empty calm of the alley was like a balm. She realized she was sweating, and took off her raincoat, flopping it over her left shoulder. The man was trim, compact, good looking, and had taken to cultivating a close cropped goatee that made him look a little sinister in Nina’s opinion. Pain had hunched him, but stood erect he would have towered over Nina.
He was speaking as if he didn’t especially care. Or, Nina thought, as if he already knew… He turned his head towards her. It was the fluid neck swivel of a human who had been habituated to helmet display target sensors. For a scant second, she wondered if he was aiming at her, but then she caught herself. Stupid. His senses were sharp, and attuned to the darkness. He’d simply noted the direction of Nina’s voice.
...
Nina stepped back slightly as if she had been target-acquired. With the man’s head turned, she could see the faded, pink line of a scar that ran over one of his eyes, seaming that brown gaze like a plow through corn, down to the sculptural pane of his cheek. She sighed inwardly. She’d almost been taken in by his talk. But now everything, even his peculiarly carefully aimed looks, took on another meaning.
He’d lost an eye in some long ago action. She found herself admiring his replacement. Exquisite work. But nothing so calculating or strange as she projected. Sagging in visible relief, she settled herself against the stiff back of the walls.
“I know,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “It must be very distressing. There are so many obvious things I'll say now. You’re… what, thirty? You… uh... fell. And you’re hurt.” She shook her head, amused. "Look, I can’t help you. Not really, in the grand scheme of things. You’re going to have to help yourself. But I can bandage your hand, if you like. Would it really ruin everything if you stop bleeding?”
“That’s not necessary?” Nina echoed. She put her pack down and mopped her brow. The brisk run had reinvigorated her, but she was beginning to agree with Soren. This had been a bad idea. She didn’t really want to get drawn into this. But he deserved civility. Hostile though he was, he was still in horrible pain, so she could at least humor him for a minute or two. “Ah, let me rest with you a while,” said Nina.
This cool, bracing air through the empty calm of the alley was like a balm. She realized she was sweating, and took off her raincoat, flopping it over her left shoulder. The man was trim, compact, good looking, and had taken to cultivating a close cropped goatee that made him look a little sinister in Nina’s opinion. Pain had hunched him, but stood erect he would have towered over Nina.
He was speaking as if he didn’t especially care. Or, Nina thought, as if he already knew… He turned his head towards her. It was the fluid neck swivel of a human who had been habituated to helmet display target sensors. For a scant second, she wondered if he was aiming at her, but then she caught herself. Stupid. His senses were sharp, and attuned to the darkness. He’d simply noted the direction of Nina’s voice.
...
Nina stepped back slightly as if she had been target-acquired. With the man’s head turned, she could see the faded, pink line of a scar that ran over one of his eyes, seaming that brown gaze like a plow through corn, down to the sculptural pane of his cheek. She sighed inwardly. She’d almost been taken in by his talk. But now everything, even his peculiarly carefully aimed looks, took on another meaning.
He’d lost an eye in some long ago action. She found herself admiring his replacement. Exquisite work. But nothing so calculating or strange as she projected. Sagging in visible relief, she settled herself against the stiff back of the walls.
“I know,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “It must be very distressing. There are so many obvious things I'll say now. You’re… what, thirty? You… uh... fell. And you’re hurt.” She shook her head, amused. "Look, I can’t help you. Not really, in the grand scheme of things. You’re going to have to help yourself. But I can bandage your hand, if you like. Would it really ruin everything if you stop bleeding?”
Nina