First Name Basis (Clothing Optional)
~ takes place between "Transact" and "Langsyne" (but probably best read after "Langsyne") ~
Olivia woke with a start. Someone was buzzing her door, and Sabinus Terchan never buzzed her door.
Or knocked. Or announced his presence in any way whatsoever when he came to her room.
Or knocked. Or announced his presence in any way whatsoever when he came to her room.
This didn't exactly leave very many options for who it was, considering the fact that there were only three people living on the ship at the moment.
She crawled out of bed, puzzled and not quite certain what to do. She wasn't wearing anything, and had nothing available to cover her nudity except for perhaps the sheets...
Not, she supposed, that she had anything left to hide.
She sighed as she walked to the door, raked her hair over her shoulders to provide what little modesty it could, and waved the panel open.
Sure enough, waiting in the corridor outside was not Sabinus Terchan, but that pale, hulking bodyguard of his. (That seemed to be his official position, at least, though Olivia thought it pretty obvious that neither man was exactly in much need of any help in protecting himself.)
She crawled out of bed, puzzled and not quite certain what to do. She wasn't wearing anything, and had nothing available to cover her nudity except for perhaps the sheets...
Not, she supposed, that she had anything left to hide.
She sighed as she walked to the door, raked her hair over her shoulders to provide what little modesty it could, and waved the panel open.
Sure enough, waiting in the corridor outside was not Sabinus Terchan, but that pale, hulking bodyguard of his. (That seemed to be his official position, at least, though Olivia thought it pretty obvious that neither man was exactly in much need of any help in protecting himself.)
"Boss got you some clothes," said the bodyguard, not quite looking at her as he handed her a clear sealed package.
Even more puzzling. The last time she'd been given anything to wear, it had been out of necessity. (And had ended with interesting, albeit unfortunately marred results.) The lack hadn't bothered her too much, as the temperature controls on the ship always seemed to be set at a comfortable level -- though it had, admittedly, taken a while to habituate herself to using the exercise room in the nude.
She peeked at the contents of the package, and couldn't tell if she were disappointed or relieved that the outfit within looked fairly normal, and in fact not too different from her preferred mode of dress. Or what had been her preferred mode of dress, before her present circumstances.
Actually, she realized, she was troubled. Already her mind was whirling, wondering at the meaning of this gesture, its potential implications.
No need to reveal her worry.
"Thank you, Mr. Ajama," she said.
The bodyguard flinched, and she blinked at him, surprised by his reaction. Did he think she hadn't been paying attention to the details of daily life on the ship when she wasn't... otherwise occupied? She wasn't blind or deaf, and even if she were, there were things one noticed just by, well, being around.
But what he said was, "You can drop the Mister."
"Oh," said Olivia. "My apologies." She hesitated, about to correct herself -- only to realize she didn't feel comfortable addressing him without the title after all. Ajama was what his employer called him. It did not seem right, coming from her lips.
"Mr. Andrei," she tried, and despite the wince he made, it seemed to be an acceptable compromise. Feeling somewhat emboldened by his response, she asked, "When exactly am I supposed to wear this?"
He turned extremely red at that. Despite her amusement, Olivia's own cheeks burned in sympathy.
"Even if you and the boss don't give a damn, I do," he muttered.
Which didn't really answer her question... except it did.
"I'm glad," she said then, without entirely meaning to.
"Glad?" he repeated, looking rather skeptical.
"I thought..." She stopped herself before her tongue could betray herself any further. But now that she'd started, the question burned in her chest, demanding to be answered.
"Isn't he still mad at me?"
It was his turn to be surprised. He seemed to consider his response carefully before replying, probably more politely than she deserved, "It's really none of my business."
She stared at him, suddenly curious as to what exactly made the man tick. What little she'd seen of him over the months spoke only of quiet professionalism.
But there had been moments that made her wonder.
"Well, I suppose I won't be offending your sensibilities much longer. I don't have much reason not to stay dressed anymore, at this rate," she said, hoping her gamble wouldn't backfire on her. Although it was true she'd been having a hard time satisfying herself lately, she had no interest in breaking her own self-imposed rules -- and she knew how easily her words could be misconstrued.
Still, it was a little unnerving, not knowing where she stood.
"You know," said the bodyguard, deliberately sidestepping the bait she'd laid. "Whatever the hell you're trying to pull with the boss. It's not gonna work."
"I'm not," she said. "And I know. Is that so hard to believe?"
"Frankly, yes."
It probably was, wasn't it? Some days, even she wasn't entirely sure what had driven her to take this whole matter so far.
Now that she had, though, she was certain she'd do it all over again if she had the choice.
"It's never going to work," the man was saying. "Not when you're still holding back."
Oh. Oh. Was he...? Did he...?
"Better to quit now, before things get messy."
"I thought you said this was none of your business," she remarked wryly.
"It will be, if it starts affecting my job."
She considered this. "I don't mean to get in the way."
"That's not --" He scratched the back of his head in evident frustration. "It's just -- Folks like us, we'll never be happy doing things by half measures."
"I'm not unhappy," she said quietly.
He gave her another look. Threw up his hands. "Suit yourself."
"Thank you again," she replied. "For the clothes. And for the advice." After a moment, she added, "You're too nice to be a pirate."
"I should tell the boss to get your head checked."
She ducked her face to hide a smile.
But as he turned to leave she spoke again.
"Andrei."
He paused.
"Will you believe me? If I tell you that I... I promise I won't betray him? No matter what happens?"
"You'd have me to answer to if you did," he replied, already starting to walk off.
A few steps later, he hesitated again.
"But yes. I do believe you... Olivia."
Even more puzzling. The last time she'd been given anything to wear, it had been out of necessity. (And had ended with interesting, albeit unfortunately marred results.) The lack hadn't bothered her too much, as the temperature controls on the ship always seemed to be set at a comfortable level -- though it had, admittedly, taken a while to habituate herself to using the exercise room in the nude.
She peeked at the contents of the package, and couldn't tell if she were disappointed or relieved that the outfit within looked fairly normal, and in fact not too different from her preferred mode of dress. Or what had been her preferred mode of dress, before her present circumstances.
Actually, she realized, she was troubled. Already her mind was whirling, wondering at the meaning of this gesture, its potential implications.
No need to reveal her worry.
"Thank you, Mr. Ajama," she said.
The bodyguard flinched, and she blinked at him, surprised by his reaction. Did he think she hadn't been paying attention to the details of daily life on the ship when she wasn't... otherwise occupied? She wasn't blind or deaf, and even if she were, there were things one noticed just by, well, being around.
But what he said was, "You can drop the Mister."
"Oh," said Olivia. "My apologies." She hesitated, about to correct herself -- only to realize she didn't feel comfortable addressing him without the title after all. Ajama was what his employer called him. It did not seem right, coming from her lips.
"Mr. Andrei," she tried, and despite the wince he made, it seemed to be an acceptable compromise. Feeling somewhat emboldened by his response, she asked, "When exactly am I supposed to wear this?"
He turned extremely red at that. Despite her amusement, Olivia's own cheeks burned in sympathy.
"Even if you and the boss don't give a damn, I do," he muttered.
Which didn't really answer her question... except it did.
"I'm glad," she said then, without entirely meaning to.
"Glad?" he repeated, looking rather skeptical.
"I thought..." She stopped herself before her tongue could betray herself any further. But now that she'd started, the question burned in her chest, demanding to be answered.
"Isn't he still mad at me?"
It was his turn to be surprised. He seemed to consider his response carefully before replying, probably more politely than she deserved, "It's really none of my business."
She stared at him, suddenly curious as to what exactly made the man tick. What little she'd seen of him over the months spoke only of quiet professionalism.
But there had been moments that made her wonder.
"Well, I suppose I won't be offending your sensibilities much longer. I don't have much reason not to stay dressed anymore, at this rate," she said, hoping her gamble wouldn't backfire on her. Although it was true she'd been having a hard time satisfying herself lately, she had no interest in breaking her own self-imposed rules -- and she knew how easily her words could be misconstrued.
Still, it was a little unnerving, not knowing where she stood.
"You know," said the bodyguard, deliberately sidestepping the bait she'd laid. "Whatever the hell you're trying to pull with the boss. It's not gonna work."
"I'm not," she said. "And I know. Is that so hard to believe?"
"Frankly, yes."
It probably was, wasn't it? Some days, even she wasn't entirely sure what had driven her to take this whole matter so far.
Now that she had, though, she was certain she'd do it all over again if she had the choice.
"It's never going to work," the man was saying. "Not when you're still holding back."
Oh. Oh. Was he...? Did he...?
"Better to quit now, before things get messy."
"I thought you said this was none of your business," she remarked wryly.
"It will be, if it starts affecting my job."
She considered this. "I don't mean to get in the way."
"That's not --" He scratched the back of his head in evident frustration. "It's just -- Folks like us, we'll never be happy doing things by half measures."
"I'm not unhappy," she said quietly.
He gave her another look. Threw up his hands. "Suit yourself."
"Thank you again," she replied. "For the clothes. And for the advice." After a moment, she added, "You're too nice to be a pirate."
"I should tell the boss to get your head checked."
She ducked her face to hide a smile.
But as he turned to leave she spoke again.
"Andrei."
He paused.
"Will you believe me? If I tell you that I... I promise I won't betray him? No matter what happens?"
"You'd have me to answer to if you did," he replied, already starting to walk off.
A few steps later, he hesitated again.
"But yes. I do believe you... Olivia."
No comments:
Post a Comment