[X] "This is not as sexy as I imagined it would be."
[X] "I'll need a new notebook for writing."
The dull, echoing shock of realizing your home is gone.
Your family.
Your old apartment.
Your friends, or whatever passed for such.
Gone.
And instead, your mind is trained on the neckline of Chiera's leotard.
"This isn't as sexy as I thought it would be..." You mutter.
Chiera cackles in response. "Ah, damn, I
gotta disagree about that! Freedom? Danger? Violence?
Please! There's nothing sexier in the Spiral! Sure, it's a lot to learn in a short time, but once you learn the ropes, you're set! You
never run out of things to impress pretty strangers."
She traces your eye-line and winks. "And I'll say this much--once you get good at this, it starts to
show, you know?"
Wax in your throat.
You try to cough up some excuse, but instead, she stands up and pats you on the shoulder. "Don't worry. I was pretty spooked at first. The firsts are always tough. First time shooting someone, first time
getting shot
, first time waking up next to someone sent to kill you... But you get used to it!"
"Wait,
what was that last one?" you ask.
"
Don't worry about it!" Chiera says with a gleaming smirk, "Point is, you'll figure it out."
You look nervously around, and say, "...Okay. I'll figure it out."
"That's the spirit!" Chiera opens the door to an intercom panel, pushes a button, and shouts, "Hey, cowboy! All good if this lost gasha-puppy borrows some of your clothes?"
"No mind," the intercom crackles back, "Just nothin' with the sequins. They're delicate."
"Careful, Hascha, he's in earshot!"
"Ah, shit, the erkka's out of the cage. Ain't much I can do 'bout that."
Chiera closes the panel door and smiles. "Clothes handled. Might be a bit tight in places, but it's just for a day. Shower's down the hall, I'll leave the spares outside the door."
Okay. Breathe, Mirin, breathe. Pretend you didn't hear anything about getting shot...
The shower itself is suspiciously large for what you'd imagine for a starship, as if it was built to fit two. Seems like a bit of a waste when space is supposed to be at a premium, but you've never
been in a starship before (hell, you haven't been off
planet before...), so who are you to talk?
You realize, as you scrub yourself down, that--all things considered--you should be a lot more scared and angry about this whole...situation. But you're not. You're
thrilled. You're
glad to be out of Izuraa, out of Yu-Kezaahi, away from home.
But away, towards
what?
You open the door out of the restroom, peeking out to find, sure enough, a small pile of clothes, neatly folded and warm. As it turns out, Hascha has a roughly similar frame to you (albeit with a lot more...
muscle definition...and whatnot), so his spare grey sweatpants and white tee (with an oddly plunging neckline) seem to fit well enough, save for being a bit tight at your belly and hips.
Wait. No. It's tight around your
ass, is what. Whatever, it fits well enough, although...
You fish out a note in one of the sweatpant's pockets, written in near-impeccable script:
Your quarters is 3rd from cockpit. --Chiera.
The
Double Dog Dare is small enough that you can find the bunk easily enough--it looks like there are only five such rooms in this ship, in fact. The room itself is sparse, owing to your lack of
stuff, but it's well-lit, and comfortable, and the bed's already been set up.
But...you're not ready to sleep quite yet.
You want to check something.
Hascha, as it turns out, is still in the cockpit, reclining against the captain's chair and admiring the view of stars and nebulas and space anomalies whirring by. Clearly unaware, clearly worth a shot.
You creep towards the cockpit, as silently as you can, through the already-open door. You pause, wind up a swing, and...your wrist is caught in the air. You find yourself whirled in a spiral, caught in a gentle-yet-firm headlock, your cheek pressed against the lightly-prickly neck of a somehow-standing Hascha Tarrn, smelling of leather, liquor, and hints of clove and mint.
"Lemme guess..." Hascha's voice rumbles against your cheekbones, sending an electric thrill down the back of your neck. "Chiera dared you to try and deck me?"
No sense in lying. "...Yeah," you admit.
Hascha chuckles, still holding a sinewed forearm against your throat. "Well, you ain't the first to try. Wanna know how I did that?"
You try to nod, but you realize your head is locked into place. "...Yes," you croak.
You feel Hascha smile, his jaw shifting against your temple. "You need to learn how to
struggle more. Thrash about an' whatnot. Anyway, I got...a gift. Some ol' statue up and spoke to me, and said, 'Hey Hascha, I'm gonna need you for something. Go toughen up. See the Spiral. Get a crew. Become hero material. 'Cause someday...you'll need to be a hero.' So I packed up. Got my hands on a ship. Met Chiera. And...well, I
see things. Seconds 'fore they happen. Gives me an edge."
"Have you heard from that statue since?" You ask.
"Nah..." Hascha says, "But it's coming. I feel it. Everything happening to me...can't be a coincidence. Destiny's calling, you feel me?"
You certainly feel him--the warmth of his chest, radiating from the alcohol. His heartbeat, pulsing in the wrist pressed against your neck. His breath, damp against your ear.
"...Maybe?" you say, "I haven't had any experience like that. I...I'm just a writer..."
Wait. That reminds you...
"I need to get a new notebook," you say, "I lost my old one."
Hascha pauses, then starts laughing so hard that he abruptly lets go of you--at which point you realize you had so completely melted into Hascha's embrace that you had stopped using your legs for
standing. As you pick yourself up from the floor, reeling from the spike of pain in your lower back, Hascha says, "Y'know I was about to apologize for dragging you into this hotshot biz, but if your takeaway from today was 'I gotta write this down,' well... Damn, you really
do got a spark in you."
He holds out a hand to help you up. As he pulls you to your feet, he says, "Rest up, Jyenar. As good as you look in my clothes, I'm gonna want that shirt back. And the gun."
His eyes sparkle against the streaks of starlight outside the cockpit window, his face mere inches from--
"Welcome to the crew," he says. "We'll be coming in at sunup on the Sprawl. Best be ready."
CHAPTER 2 IS COMING UP NEXT!
