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Kira nearly popped off with a sarcastic retort, but stopped herself, frowning. “You still deserve a physical body.”
And how am I supposed to get one?
“I’ve been putting back almost all of my wages.”
The ball smacked back into her hand before she tossed it upward again.
That’s what you’ve been saving for?
Smack.
“Mhm.”
Smack.
Kira?
Smack.
“Mhm?”
Smack.
Nevermind.
Kira caught the ball, holding it firm in hand. With a quick decision, she threw her feet down and gathered what little belongings she’d taken off the ship when she’d left to meet with Toke. It took all of five minutes before she was ready to return. She had no intention of being off the Callistar long, so her luggage had been the bare minimum.
Chapter Eight
KIRA
Whatever time period he’d extended, she was within it when she crossed the bridge to the Callistar.
She entered her own ship, only to find it almost entirely alien to her. Not that the floor-plan had changed, or that anything obvious added to the distant halls. It was just clean in a way it hadn’t been since it had been manufactured. The stains were gone from the walls, some she’d not even realized were that. Her reflection peered back at her through the metallic panels that she passed.
It was eerie to be in such a sterile environment. But, no sign of Quinn.
Only her, standing there, really tempted to touch the clean walls, the intrusive thought similar to mussing a new desk or a clean mirror. Resisting the urge, she made her way to her quarters, which were the same. Then she followed the halls to the kitchens. Late afternoon had fallen, and it was nearly time to start dinner preparations.
Quinn being human, she opted for a fully human meal, steak, and potatoes. Hela, their cook, had left her some frozen pies. Kira chose an apple pie and shoved it in the oven. While she could bake, her lopsided cakes said it was best left to the professionals on that front.
Setting out the steaks, she’d seasoned them on the Eikos, letting them marinate. Heading to the back cabinets, she withdrew a cast-iron skillet. A family heirloom for Hela’s. She’d been the one to show her how to use, clean, and re-season it with express instructions that if it was messed up in any way when she returned it, her bottom would be so raw she wouldn’t sit for a week.
Putting their plates on the long table felt unnecessary, so Kira decided they would eat at the pass through counter. There were a couple of bar stools nestled beneath it. Putting him on the far side where the overhang came out, she moved one inside the kitchen, facing the inside cabinets. She could sit close enough it wasn’t a bother.
“This seems… fancy.”
Kira had heard him come in, but she’d been bent over, pulling the pie out of the oven. His voice back to the gruff fake Irish accent. Why exactly he talked like that was still a mystery since she’d heard his real voice- computerized speech- from a living mouth. While the Irish accent wasn’t the most pleasant, it was less unnerving than that had been.
The man looked a mess. Bags under his eyes, and he could probably use a shower. There was an air of tension about him, like a piece of chewing gum being stretched almost to the breaking point.
“Smells good,” he said, taking his seat.
“Thank you.” Setting his plate down in front of him, everything still steaming. A knife and fork followed. “What do you want to drink?”
“Uh, water?”
She poured herself something dark red and had the slight aroma of alcohol from even a distance. The genuine kind was hard to find and something she might have gotten from Toke’s stores. Whether stolen or asked for, it wasn’t a light thing to share, but she’d happily share it with Quinn after having seen the ship. Pouring a second glass anyways, she set it beside his ice water.
