First Visit

“Human.” It took all of Sren’s self-control not to openly sneer at the woman sitting demurely in the small, modest room. “They sent me a human.” She looked neither surprised nor hurt by his disgust.

Instead of protesting or defending herself, she inclined her head and said in a strong voice that surprised him, “If you like, I can request you be sent someone else. If you are sure now of a species you would prefer, we would be happy to—”

“No. Don’t bother now,” Sren snapped. He’d already paid. This was probably some ridiculous money-hungry Vabrim scheme. Make him pay for a Companion, send him the wrong one so he had to pay for another. His chest began to burn and he ground his teeth together. The woman winced at the sound, but she made no comment or move except to stand and move to sit in the chair furthest from him—which, given the nature of the establishment, was not very far away.

She looked at her hands for perhaps five minutes, then realized that time was money and chanced a look back up at him. He looked stubbornly away, making sure she understood he had no desire for her company.

“May Iask your name, sir?”

He thought for a moment. “Sren. General Sren,” he corrected himself sternly, and looked at her for a few minutes to ensure the point got across.

She nodded and smiled. “Good evening, Sren."

The aromas of the teas she’d brought were starting to make his head swim. As if sensing that his discomfort was nearing unbearable, she leaned forward and began to move the pitchers around, pouring them in seemingly random amounts into the two cups she’d brought with her. The smells blurred together and then began to fade away, and almost had become pleasant when she pushed the larger cup towards him. He took it without comment, but did not drink until she did.

It tasted…nice.

“Why are you here, General?”

She was staring at him, head tilted to the side in an attempt to make her gaze less piercing. It didn’t work. She held the steaming cup against her stomach but made no move to drink it. She didn’t repeat the question, but at his silence, let out a barely perceptible sigh. “People don’t come here on a whim…well, not usually,” she stated simply. “Although, given your displeasure, I am perfectly willing to accept your silence.”

Sren wasn’t sure what was more surprising: that she dared to ask the question at all, or that he actually answered her.

Third Visit

"You look tired.”

She looked up at him in surprise. She tried to smile for him, but it was an expression that peeled and cracked on her face like bad paint. A brief flash of anger surged through him. “Not too tired for you, I promise,” she said warmly. “How was work?”

How…domestic.

He didn’t intend to reply to her at first, but in the silence he could almost hear her disappointment. “I am tired.” The excuse was beaten to death. He actually heard the weariness settling on him as he sank into the comfortable couch that he convinced himself was the reason he’d come back again. She just watched him, and when he did nothing, dared to move a bit closer.

“Come here, then.” At his hesitance, she looked exasperated and said, affronted, “If nothing else, this is why you pay for me, General.” The invitation, however, was neither demanding nor expectant, so he found himself loosening up and allowing her to move close to him. “Are you hungry?” she asked first.

Yes.

He shook his head.

“Do you want some tea?”

No.

He shook his head.

“Are you really that tired?”

Yes.

“No.”

She looked even more exasperated. Hesitantly, so hesitantly, she laid a hand on his arm. He almost flinched away from how cold her hands were. She grimaced apologetically.

“If you want to sleep, General…I will not be offended.”

It’s not sleep I want.

Fourth Visit

He woke to her hand gently pushing at his shoulder and her voice very close to his ear.

“General…wake up, sleepyhead, you’re going to miss your train.”

He reached up to push her away, but the hand he extended only found itself resting indecisively on her stomach. She shook her head.

“You’re going to be late if you don’t get up!”

Fifth Visit

“What’s your name?”

She took a quiet sip of her tea. “Sela.”

“Your real name.”

She looked at him, her bright eyes flashing with an emotion he couldn’t place through the steaming curtain of her cup. Her lips quirked slightly.

“Sela.”

Twelfth Visit

He was becoming addicted to her laughter. It was a horrible addiction to have, since it happened so rarely. Her smiles were small and common, and he’d quickly found them pleasing when aimed at him, but after the first time he heard her lose herself to her strange human joy, he knew nothing would ever compare.

She looked at him with twinkling eyes, still breathless from her laughing fit.

Twentieth Visit

“I mean it,” he pressed. “It’s only fair!” He waved his hand to dismiss her next protest. “I asked one question, you get one in return!” He nodded and reached for the bottle again. “It’s only fair.”

“Give me that.” With gentle but firm hands she took the bottle from him, and filled his cup barely half of what he’d planned. “Alright, alright.” She put the bottle in her lap. She sighed and looked at him, her eyes dark and thoughtful. He did nothing but stare back, trying to dive as deeply into the russet ocean of her soul as he could. “Hmm…does your name mean anything?”

Hm. Sren leaned back and cocked his head to the side, thinking. “I don’t believe…so. Our names do not have meanings like…like human names do.” Something occurred to him. “Does your name mean anything?”

She smiled and the room got brighter. “Yes. It means ‘rock’ in one of Earth’s old languages. And my other name…oh, it means ‘perfume’ or something along those lines.” She leaned back and her smile dimmed a bit. “I didn’t pick it.”

Twenty-First Visit

Sren blinked very slowly. He licked his lips and thought for a moment. Sela’s eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Well?”

“I…” His stomach warmed as he realized how weak his voice sounded. “Human…” Starting to feel foolish now, he coughed. “Human kisses are…satisfactory.”

Her eyes widened, and without warning she began to laugh. “Satisfactory?” She leaned in closer, her eyes shining. “Oh, General, I must be losing my touch.”

“You could…” He stopped, wondering if he was ready to say such ridiculous and pregnant words. “You could always practice.”

She grinned and moved closer and did just that.

Thirtieth Visit

“No one in her right mind would make her home mine!” he snarled. “I am unstable and…just look at me!” He was almost roaring at her. He didn’t even look at her to see her reaction, pacing as strongly as he could in the small space. “No honor, no purpose, nothing but pathetic indecision in this mind, no wonder I have no mate! I cannot even function with a woman who is paid to function!”

Later he would hang his head and bury his face and tear at his skin when he recalled the disgust and anger in his voice. He turned slowly, waiting for Sela’s response, and saw her eyes wide and face pale. Her voice shook for the first few words, but she quickly regained her old strength.

“May I…” She trailed off. “No, no, I will tell you this. I disagree.” She pulled one knee to her chest and hugged it tightly. “I think…by my human standards, there is nothing wrong with you, nothing pathetic at all. You are well-bred and you are decorated and you are a delightful person to be around. Fiery, yes, and so angry, but there is nothing about you that is displeasing.”

“Is that supposed to be comforting?” he snapped. I am supposed to be content knowing a species not even remotely similar to my own finds me suitable?

“That’s not what I meant,” she said, her voice full of hurt and, for the first time, aggression. “I only meant…lower your standards…for yourself. You are hard on yourself and you are…” She wisely trailed off there, choosing instead to uncurl herself, crossing the room to stand near him. She stood so close that he could smell the hormones beneath her skin and the soaps on her hair and the blankets she slept beneath at night. He stiffened as she reached out, and resisted the urge to pull away from the cold hand she laid on his arm. He felt the chill of her through his coverings. She stared into his eyes for a long time with an expression that made him think he should be saying something.

“Please, Sren…sit down?”

Fifty-Third Visit

He remembered vividly something a colleague had said. She had gotten enamored with her fair share of Companions, and had, one drunk night, given him advice that had until now been irrelevant.

His heart began to skip beats. He turned over and slid his leg behind Sela’s back, and buried his face in her hair. She turned to face him wordlessly, tilting her head to the side to give him access to her neck. He wondered if she understood the implications of what she had just offered to him, what she offered him every time.

“I want,” he started, his voice a nervous husky growl, “to know…” He trailed off, unsure how to proceed. It was not as if he had never been involved with anyone, but never had he been entwined with anyone enough to have to perform the Trials. “If you could, Sel…if you had the choice…would we bond?” He would hate himself for sounding so needy later, but now he just cared about her response.

It seemed to him she barely hesitated before answering. “If I could…if I could choose anyone.” She breathed deeply, her skin like frost on his face. “I wish we could.”

The chill of her ran through his entire body. He gasped softly and breathed deeply the sincerity of her words.