Page 53 of Zalis
“I asked for recommendations,” he said, sounding almost bashful about it.
“Sure, but we don’t have to watch an Earth movie. We can watch a Sangrin one, but you might have to explain some stuff to me.”
He took the list back. “No. This is for your relaxation.”
“My bulwark,” she said softly, grabbing a bowl of freshly reconstructed popcorn from the machine. “How about the one at the bottom? It’s about a man who falls in love with a mermaid. I know I’ve seen it, but I don’t remember much about it.”
“I have been informed that it is filled with criminal behavior.”
“Oh, the red flags are what makes it so much fun.” She settled onto the sofa and patted the space next to her.
The movie was as fun as she remembered but filled with jokes that aged like milk, not to mention Zalis’ many, many questions.
No, mermaids were not real.
Well, that’d involve a very long explanation of sirens, manatees, optical illusions, and the crippling isolation of being at sea. Scurvy probably had something to do with it.
Yeah, that does sound similar to space madness.
No, it doesn’t make sense that there’s a water hose just hanging out on the sidewalk in the city. Don’t think about it too hard.
At one point, she caught him staring at her.
“What? Is there something on my face?” Using her sleeve cuff, she brushed the fabric against her face.
“Your hair is fluffy, like a pink cloud.”
Now she touched her hair. “I suppose.”
“I want to pet your head like a fretti.” His fingers twitched.
She scooted away, increasing the gap between them. She didn’t know what a fretti was but the translator suggested a canine creature. Mostly she didn’t want anyone grabbing her hair, not even Zalis.
“Let me pet you. I am curious,” he said, oblivious to every social norm about keeping your hands to yourself.
“Too fucking bad. You don’t go around petting people. It’s weird.”
“You may touch my horns in return,” he offered.
That got her attention. She had wondered what his horns felt like. They resembled a ram’s horns but she’d never seen a ram in real life, let alone touched one. The closest she got was a replica Viking drinking horn. So yeah, she was tempted.
Still weird, though.
And it might be therapeutic? Her nightmares always included her hair being grabbed. Maybe letting Zalis touch her hair would take the sting away. Give her control over the act. Or something. She was a baker, not a therapist, but it sounded plausible.
“Deal,” she said. “No pulling, though.”
She shifted on the sofa to face him, one leg folded under her. The other leg with the boot dangled over the edge.
Zalis reached out.
Gemma tensed.
Gently he patted the top of her head, just like she was a dog. Fretti. Whatever. The point was, nothing bad happened.
A delighted grin spread across his face as his fingers raked through the short pixie cut. “It is so fluffy.”
“Thanks. The salon worked some serious magic.”
