Cristof drew in a deep breath and nodded once, his eyes still screwed shut.
'Viera's going to need you, too,' Taya continued. 'You don't have to agree with her. Just let her be angry and let her know that you're not going to abandon her.'
He opened his eyes, giving her a bleak look.
'It would be easier if you were with me. They both like you better than they like me.'
'That's not true. But I can be there if you want me.' She shrugged. 'I'm grounded for two weeks. I'd rather be an exalted's personal assistant than sort mail up at Dispatch.'
He put his hand over hers, holding it.
'Do you have to consider it a duty? Wouldn't you do it as a friend?' His voice was strained.
'Of course I would. But let's make it official, anyway. ‘Friend’ won't get me out of stuffing mail bags.' She tilted her head, looking at his tense expression. 'Thanks for asking, though. You have your moments, exalted.'
The lines in his face smoothed, almost imperceptibly. 'Am I up to ‘rarely’ yet?'
'No, but I don't expect miracles.'
He laughed, once, a gasp that contained less humor than it did relief, but Taya was still glad to hear it.
'Taya Icarus, I don't know why you humor me, but I'm glad you do.'
'You'll pay me back.' Taya tugged his hand, struggling to her feet. 'To start off, you can carry my chair into the foyer. I want to watch the master clockwright at work.'
He rose, clinging to her hand, and gave her a wry, grateful smile.
The late morning sun streamed through the foyer's front windows, and Cristof set Taya's chair in a pool of light. She laid her crutches on the floor next to it and sat to watch.
The exalted's deadpan humor returned as he began to work. He explained each step and brought over the dirty clock parts for her to clean and oil. 'It's only fair,' he pointed out. 'I learned your job, so now you can learn mine.' Taya made a point of complaining about the messy work just to please him.
Watching Cristof fix the clock gave Taya time to examine him. She enjoyed watching the satisfaction on his face as he replaced a worn spring or polished a gear back up to a dull shine. With his coat off and his sleeves rolled up, only the castemark on his copper cheeks revealed that he was anything other than a regular craftsman. The sharp angles and furrows of his face had become familiar to her now, and the smudge of grease on his nose, where he'd shoved his glasses back up as he worked, amused her.
Taya chewed on her bottom lip, watching his grease-blackened fingers as he deftly reconstructed a gear fitting, and thought about their one kiss next to Oporphyr Tower.
Any other man
, she mused,
would have come in and greeted me with a kiss this morning. Alister would have — but she thrust that thought away. Alister would have, but it wouldn't have meant anything.
Why hadn't Cristof? Was it just his social ineptitude, or was he starting to separate himself from her in anticipation of returning to Primus?
She bit too hard on her lip and winced, straightening up.
He'd better not withdraw. Not when I've just started to like him.
At last he cleaned his hands on the rags in his toolkit, closed the clock case, and wound it up again. Both of them fell silent, listening to its loud ticking as it filled the room. Shortly after noon. The repair had taken two hours. Taya thought it would have taken less time if she hadn't been there distracting him with questions and jokes.
'Oh! I still have your pocket watch,' she said, remembering. 'It's upstairs.'
Cristof glanced at her, then away.
'You can keep it,' he said, gruffly. 'For now, I mean. Until I find you something better.'
'You don't need to do that,' she protested. 'I mean, now that you've got this clock working again….'
'It's all right. I own plenty of watches.'
'I—' she closed her mouth. What was she doing, arguing with him when he was trying to do something nice? Lady, if anything, she should be encouraging him. 'Thank you, Cris. I appreciate it.'
He knelt on the floor and began packing his toolkit.
'I expect to be up to ‘rarely’ in no time.'
'Huh? Oh, you have a hidden agenda, do you?' She laughed. His straight-faced humor always surprised her. 'You promised me you didn't.'
'There's nothing hidden about it,' he replied. 'My objective is obvious. I've decided that I'd rather have you describe me as ‘sweet’ than a ‘slagging pain in the tailset.’'
'Really?'
'Well…' he looked up from the bag. 'Maybe not in public.'
'I might be able to confine myself to saying it in private, if you gave me a reason.' Taya met his eyes, and he blushed. He averted his gaze and grabbed a handful of greasy rags, stuffing them into his bag.
Taya stood, grabbed one of the crutches, and limped over to him. She braced a hand on his shoulder and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. 'I'm sorry,' she said, unrepentantly. 'I shouldn't tease you.'
He glanced up at her, his expression serious.
'No, you shouldn't. I don't have much experience with teasing. I could end up taking you seriously.'
Taya felt a jolt as he met and held her gaze. Her fingers curled on his shoulder. She leaned over, braced against him again, and he slid a hand up over her cheek.
For a moment they gazed at each other, the promise of another kiss trembling between them.
Then, behind them, Gwen cleared her throat.
Taya jumped, nearly stumbling. Cristof half-rose, grabbing her arms to steady her. They both looked over their shoulders, giving the landlady guilty looks.
She eyed them, her beefy arms folded firmly over her chest.
'If you're finished here, Master Clockwright, I'll go get my pocketbook,' she said, unmistakably satisfied with herself. 'And I'll expect a receipt.'
'I really ought to charge you, now,' Cristof muttered, making sure Taya was stable before he stood and brushed at the dust on his trousers. He raised his voice, sounding annoyed. 'I thought you were going to leave us alone if I repaired your clock for free.'
Taya clapped a hand over her mouth, not sure whether to be embarrassed or amused. Amusement won out, and she had to struggle not to laugh as the thick-waisted landlady and skinny exalted glared daggers at each other.
'You said ‘for a while,'' Gwen snapped. 'I did leave you alone for a while. But if you think I'm going to let you ravish one of my little girls—'
'Ravish!' His eyes widened with disbelief.
Gwen snorted, irreverently snapping her fingers at him. 'The bill?'
Cristof ground his teeth. 'I, at least, will keep my end of the bargain. I'm not charging you for this repair.'
'Then if you don't have any more business here—'
'He's going to take me to lunch,' Taya said, hastily. Then she gave Cristof an uncertain look. Would he mind? Did he have more important things to do? 'Weren't you? Or are you busy?'
'Of course we're going to lunch,' he said, still glowering.
'Good.' She smiled. 'Just give me a minute to get my cloak.'
'Wait. You can't walk down Cliff Road on crutches.'
Gwen snorted. 'Send one of the neighborhood boys to hire a hack, you maskless ninny. They'll run messages for a penny or two.'
Cristof scowled, then turned and headed outside.
