Page 10 of Reluctantly Abducted
"Not hungry?" I ask.
"I am monitoring your response to Nereidan nutrition."
"While your own food gets cold? That's dedication." I finish my soup, wiping the last bit with a piece of the bread bowl. "So, Ry, when do I get the grand tour?"
His skin flashes again at the nickname. "The vessel is not large. A tour is unnecessary."
"Come on, I'm stuck here for three days. Might as well know my way around." I lean back in the chair. "Unless you're trying to keep me contained to specific areas."
"That is not—" he begins, then stops. "I am... tired. Perhaps tomorrow."
My medical training kicks in immediately. Fatigue after a head injury is a red flag for concussion. I lean forward, studying his eyes more carefully.
"Tired? Since when? Did you develop fatigue in the last hour?"
"I am fine," he says quickly. "It has been a demanding day."
"Yeah, no." I stand up. "Getting tired suddenly after a head injury is a classic concussion symptom. Let me check your pupils again."
"That is not necessary," he says, standing as well and backing away slightly. "I am not actually tired. I was merely attempting to postpone the tour."
"So you were lying," I say, advancing on him. "That's not very scientific of you, Ry."
"My name is Ry'eth," he says automatically, his skin glowing brighter as I move closer. He continues backing up until he hits the wall, trapped between it and my approaching form.
I close the distance with deliberate steps, my combat-trained instincts responding to his retreat by advancing. When I reach him, I place one hand against the wall beside his head and use the other to cup his chin, tilting his face up toward mine.
"Hold still," I say, my voice dropping lower. "I need to check your pupils."
He's effectively caged now, our bodies inches apart. I can feel the coolness radiating from his skin, see the rapid flutter of pulse at his throat. The blue-green glow beneath his skin intensifies where my fingers touch his face.
"Look at me," I command softly, studying his golden eyes. His pupils contract normally in response to the light, butI take my time anyway, holding him firmly in place. "Pupillary response seems normal. That's good."
I don't step back immediately, instead maintaining our position as I continue. "Well, Ry'eth, even if you're not tired, the fact that you lost consciousness earlier means you need monitoring for at least 24 hours. Standard concussion protocol."
"I do not have a concussion," he insists, his voice slightly less steady than before. "Our species is highly resistant to cerebral trauma."
"Maybe so, but you still blacked out. That means something was affected." I finally step back, giving him space. "Look, I'm not having you die on me when you're my only ticket back to Earth. So either you're giving me that tour you promised while I keep an eye on you, or I'm following you around all night to make sure you don't slip into a coma."
His expression shifts through several emotions, frustration, resignation, and something that might be reluctant amusement.
"You are using medical concerns to manipulate the assessment parameters."
"I'm using medical concerns because I'm genuinely concerned," I say, which is mostly true. "The manipulation is just a bonus."
He studies me for a moment, then his shoulders drop slightly. "Very well. A brief tour, then you will return to your assigned quarters."
"Great," I say cheerfully. "Lead the way, Ry."
His skin flares again, the blue-green light creating interesting patterns beneath the surface. "I have asked you not to call me that."
"Yes, you have. And as long as I get to keep you company so that you don't die on me from your head injury, I'll use your name. Try to get rid of me and it's back to Ry."
Something between exasperation and amusement flickers across his face. "That is extortion."
"I prefer to think of it as incentive," I reply, grinning. "Now, which way to the bridge, Ry'eth?"
His relief at the proper use of his name is almost comical, visible in both his expression and the settling of the glow beneath his skin.
