Page 13 of Zayrik

“Relax,” I muttered, keeping my tone even.

“I am relaxed.”

I exhaled, amused. “Right. That’s why you’re coiled tighter than a malfunctioning stabilizer.”

Her foot stopped bouncing, but she didn’t uncross her arms.

Zep, the tiny winged Laupin currently curled on her shoulder, let out a soft chuff.

“You touch my stuff again, I touch your throat,” she cut in, deadpan.

I snorted. “You do realize I could snap your wrist before you even reach for a blade?”

Her eyes narrowed, fierce with challenge. “You could try.”

I leaned back, amused. “You always this combative?”

“You always this smug?”

She had me there.

A silence fell between us. Not tense. Just... something else.

She was watching me now. Not openly. Not obviously. But I caught the way her eyes flicked toward my hands on the controls, the way she studied my movements like she was trying to figure something out.

I didn’t acknowledge it. Just let her look.

Let her try to guess who I really was.

A few minutes passed, the hum of the engines the only sound between us.

Then, she muttered, “You’re too clean.”

I arched a brow. “What?”

Her gaze flicked to me, then away, like she hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

“You’re too clean,” she repeated, slower this time. “Your not expensive but pristine clothing. Your movements. Your posture.” She shrugged, feigning disinterest. “You’re not just some gambler who got lucky. You’re trained.”

I smirked. Clever thief. “Interesting theory.”

She shot me a dry look. “It’s not a theory. It’s an observation.”

I didn’t confirm or deny. Let her stew in it.

Zep, still perched on her shoulder, fluffed his wings and let out a soft trill. Nav hummed from her wrist. “I believe he’s amused.”

Nyla exhaled. “Yeah, I got that.”

I didn’t say anything. But I kept smirking.

Because finally she was actually paying attention to me.

I sat at the console, jaw tight as I scrolled through the damage report. The engines were shot to hell.

The ship had taken a full hit to the aft stabilizers during our escape, and while we weren’t dead in space, we were running on barely functioning thrusters.

“Katar Station’s got a damn good sensor grid,” I muttered. “If they tagged us before we jumped, we won’t be the only ones limping toward the next outpost.”

---