Page 32 of Trove’s Purpose

“Be serious.”

“I absolutely was,” he laughed, laying back on both hands again. “Just let me know when you’re ready and I’d be happy to demonstrate just how serious at any time.”

Chee sighed, but shaking her head, she gave up and laid back as well. The claw techs were coming their way, each one leading a hover tray of supplies. She was letting the subject drop while they worked on them, but he didn't think she was letting it go forever. He knew females too well to think that was the end of this conversation.

He wasn’t sure how to tell her that he couldn’t regrow his claws. That he’d tried. He’d made appointments in the past. He’d thought about it. He’d even gotten close to trying once. But he couldn’t go through with it. He just… couldn’t. It was like there was some block in his mind that refused to let himself even get close.

So, he’d given up on trying. And like he said, the lack of claws served him well. He felt no pride in them. He felt no honor about them. He sometimes wondered what it would be like to have his claws back again. To actually feel the weight of them, the strength of them.

But that was just his imagination. It was something he’d never actually known.

No, it was too late for him. He just couldn’t. And he’d come to terms with that. For all the good and bad it did him, he was clawless. And that was… that was fine.

Chapter 12

Chee

A spa day was exactly what the doctor ordered. She needed that chance to relax. After these last few weeks, going through the craziness that was her life, it was basically a necessity at this point. She left the spa facility feeling rested, rejuvenated, and shiny. She was sure her hair, skin, and nails had never looked so good.

Part of her even wondered if the clothes Trove had purchased for her would make her look even better. She didn’t plan on going anywhere else today, but she was tempted to change back into that alien romper just because, so she could enjoy the full look for herself.

As she left – back in her sweater and jeans – however, she looked over at Trove. He’d purchased a simple outfit for himself. Something that could be made for him quickly so he didn’t have to keep wearing that jumpsuit. He looked good in the deep, emerald green. His hair, shiny and smoother than ever, was back in its high ponytail. There was no great change to his appearance, he was basically the same as when he went in.

But his hair and skin looked better. He was smiling, and she thought maybe it looked a little more relaxed than usual. His hands were in his pockets, and he walked with a lazy, easy lope that was deceptively casual. She’d seen him shoot. She’d read his file. She knew he was deadly. The harmless façade he presented was just that – a façade.

“Ready for third meal?” He asked, catching her gaze. “I’m hungry enough to eat an entire rigtail haunch.”

“What’s a rigtail?”

“Delicious, delicious meat. Very tender flesh. Actually, I want some now. Let’s find a place that sells it. I’ll show you. There’s really nothing like it.”

“Okay,” she agreed, watching as he summoned his combot – the floating robot that acted kind of like a portable computer – and brought up the holoscreen. As his fingers moved across the interface, she couldn’t help but see the lack of nails. She didn’t know why she hadn’t seen it before.

They both had scars. Scars told stories. Even if it was just a silly story of drunken foolishness, the marks left on the skin were writing that inscribed their lives. She fully believed that. Both about her scars, and everyone else’s.

And the story his scars told were a dark one. To completely lose the nail on one finger spoke of a painful accident. To have all ten be missing…

The story there went beyond tragedy. It spoke of horror. It hinted at torture. This male who smiled like he was carefree, who loped along lazily like he had not a care in the world, bore such scars that told a story beyond most people’s imagining.

Chee knew Trove wasn’t his real name. She knew his real name, Kirvan, was associated with murders he had committed at a disturbingly young age.

But there were two sides to every story, right? She wanted to hear his. She wanted him to read the story of his scars to her.

She did not intend to, she didn't want to, but she found herself interested in him. Wanting to get to know more about him.

So, she followed along as he took her to an alien BBQ joint. It wasn’t labeled that. In fact, she didn't recognize the label it did have as it definitely wasn’t written in Standard. But her nose didn't need a translation for the scents wafting out from behind the food stall.

Because that’s what it was. He hadn’t taken her to a sit down place. He’d brought her to a tiny stall front place that served food in little disposable baskets. The brown, sauce covered meat on skewers smelled like the best combo of sweet and spicy and she found herself coming up on her toes to try to look over the very tall counter at what they were making while Trove ordered for them.

“Rigtails are from my home planet,” Trove explained when he got two baskets of skewers – three for her and five for himself. “They’re plains beasts that have disproportionately large tails compared to their bodies. Really tasty blood. Rich and savory. And the meat from those tails, when cooked slowly, is so tender and delicious. Most of my kind don’t really care for cooked meat, but I’ve been off my planet long enough that I’ve got a taste for it, and the rigtails in particular are my favorite.”

She picked up one of the skewers – she didn't think it was made of wood, more like a rough plastic material – and sniffed at it as the two of them walked away. There were no chairs or tables, just the long walking path, but they weren’t the only people eating and walking.

The spicy smell wasn’t one she recognized, but it did tickle her nose in a tempting kind of way. Juices from the fat dripped into the basket as she took a small bite. And, as promised, the tender flesh barely needed any encouragement to come apart.

Chee made a sound deep in her throat as she chewed. Despite what the scent suggested, it wasn’t really sweet at all. Savory, umami, with a spice blend her tongue couldn’t place but certainly enjoyed. It was absolutely delicious and she hummed in approval as she took another, bigger bite.

Trove finished an entire skewer and was working on the second one before she had finished her first. It was a dense, heavy meat, and she was already sure she wasn’t going to be able to eat that third one, but she was going to give it her best try, because it was so good.