“Most definitely.” Havik grinned, bearing all his sharp, pointy teeth, and tusks. Just a mouthful of teeth, a heart-stopping number of teeth.
Fuck, that was hot.
She seemed to forget how to swallow and coughed to clear her throat. Holy crap, she hoped that was a friendly grin.
“Do not worry. The kumakre sleeps burrowed in the sand and has a sand pit in the cargo bay. It will not outgrow the enclosure.” He picked up the sand scorpion and stroked the underside of the shell. “It has reached the maximum size allowed by the space.”
So chonky housecat size. Thalia could handle that, or at least fight it off if it tried to eat her.
“You changed the color.” Havik waved at his shoulder. She assumed he meant her hair.
“Yeah, that green was a big old fail. It was just bad luck that I got stuck with it for three years.” She pulled an exaggerated frowning face. “I like this green much better.”
He gave her a critical look. “I see no difference.”
“Stabs said he liked it.” She rubbed his belly and the kumakre rattled its tail and chirruped. Her heart melted. That cutie could totally nibble off her toes.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” she asked. To her surprise, he sat down at the far end of the couch. Using the clunky hand-gesture controls, she pulled up the menu. “Any preference?”
“There is a new series on the endangered wildlife of—”
“Trick question. We’re watching Pride and Prejudice.” While the holographic console connected to the network, content had to be downloaded. Connection speed varied on distance from a satellite, blah blah blah, nebulas, or something. All Thalia knew was that it took her a full day to download a century’s worth of Jane Austen adaptations. She grabbed as many as she could find, even the modern films inspired by Austen’s books.
“It’s fantastic. It’s a classic book and a romance between two people who don’t like each other initially. Plus, costumes.” She glanced at Havik, once again picturing him with a starched cravat. “There’s about fifty versions of the book, so we can compare and decide which one we like best.” That was another trick because they were already watching the best version.
“Is there fighting?”
“Not in this version, but there is this one remake with zombies. It’s surprisingly fun.” The lights dimmed as the credits played.
When the first soldier in a red coat wandered onto the screen, Havik perked up. “Is this based on historical events?”
“Um, no. It’s fiction, but Britain was at war with Napoleon when it was written. That’s why all the soldiers are wandering around,” she explained. Not wanting to scare him off by geeking out, she stifled her natural enthusiasm about the social turmoil of the Regency.
They watched in silence until he said, “The mother is unusually preoccupied with finding mates for her children.” Thalia muttered something about women not being able to own property and having careers.
Then, “Ten thousand pounds? Is that currency, or he is very heavy?”
Then, “The youngest child is too headstrong.”
Then, “The garments seem impractical.”
Ren wandered in and became entranced. “That is an impractical sword,” he said.
Havik grunted in agreement. “They are too conservative to brag about their prowess, so they decorate themselves in meaningless ornament to attract a mate.”
“Fascinating.”
Then, Ren asked, “Ten thousand pounds? Is that a lot of currency, or is he weighed down by all his currency?”
A few moments later, Ren, because he was the more vocal of the two, said, “I have much admiration for their style of dress. Female, you should do that.” He waved a hand over his chest and then toward the holographic figures. “This part of Terran female anatomy is highly attractive.”
“Do not stare at the female’s anatomy,” Havik snapped.
Entirely self-conscious about the thin tank top she wore and her flat chest, Thalia jumped up and announced, “I’m getting a drink!”
“Do not growl at me,” Ren said. “What is wrong with the female being pleasing to the eye?”
“She is not here to please you.”
Ren laughed and muttered something she couldn’t hear. She heard Havik growl in response as the entire room seemed to vibrate with displeasure.
“Fine, she can be hidden away in a bag for all I care,” Ren said, defeat in his tone.
Funny thing was Thalia had a brief period of long, romantic style dresses when she was sixteen. She found a ton of dresses at a thrift store. Some she liberated. Some she purchased legitimately. The Jane Austen Empire-style suited her figure, but she didn’t like the attention it brought. Soon, she hid herself away in layers and continued to do so.
She plucked at the tank.
Well, her wardrobe on Earth had been chunky sweaters and shapeless hoodies. Now she had stretchy pants, tanks, and a pullover, not that she ever wore it because the guys kept their ship temperature just shy of the Bahamas.
She hadn’t really picked anything; those items were given to her without any input. Still, she could jazz up her wardrobe and wear something more flattering.
With a glass of cold water, she returned, painfully aware of how Havik watched her. Not with appreciation, if the sneer on his face was anything to go by. His tail flicked against the sofa. Cats did that when they were irritated, and he certainly looked irritated.
Why did she want to look nice for him, anyway? That was dumb.
They fell back into silence as the movie resumed. Before long, “He is an honorless scoundrel!” Havik shouted. “And he is to be rewarded by mating the youngest daughter? He deserved a blade through the belly.”
“I totally agree,” Thalia said.
Two hours in, the end credits rolled. Stretched out on the couch on her belly, the kumakre curled up in the small of her back.
“Female, are you asleep?”
“Nearly.” She flexed her fingers and stretched slowly, giving the critter time to move and complain about his nap being interrupted. “Thanks for watching with me. What did you think?”
Ren excused himself, claiming
