Page 33 of Lorran
Mylomon adjusted the buckle on the supply pack. He looked up, as if sensing Lorran watching him. “Do not,” he warned.
“I have a question,” Lorran said.
“Yes, I anticipated that and, again, do not.”
“You have a mate.”
“Not a question.”
“My mate—”
“Discuss the issue with your brother,” Mylomon said.
“I need to discuss the issue with a friend, not a brother.”
Mylomon folded his arms over his chest. “As you have observed, I do not have friends.”
“False. We are friends.”
Mylomon stared darkly at Lorran, not blinking and barely moving.
“Have a cookie. I believe there may be some crumbs left,” Lorran said to fill the silence.
“My mate wanted to share meals and watch films together. She called it date night. I suggest you do that,” the assassin said, then turned back to the console.
“I did not ask—”
“The shuttle is only so large. I heard all your conversations, and I know what you did. Court your mate and keep your cock to yourself.”
“A date night,” he said. “That is sound advice. You are a good friend.”
“I am not your friend.”
“And humorous, too. No one mentions that you are amusing. They say, ‘Oh, Mylomon is terrifying. Oh, Mylomon lurks in shadows, waiting to sink his bare hands into your chest and squeeze your heart until it ceases beating,’ but now I know better.”
“You know nothing,” Mylomon said, a touch less vehemently.
They were the best of friends. Delightful.
Lorran held out a fist to be bumped.
Mylomon looked at him coolly.
“Another time,” Lorran said, pulling back.
The partition rattled open. Wyn wore the form-fitting armor, the color white to denote medical personnel. She held up the cap for the helmet. “How does this thing work?”
“We will have a date night,” he announced.
She blinked. “Okay, a little random. Sure? But this swim cap? I don’t think I can get this over my hair.”
“The helmet expands. I will assist.”
Using both hands, she redid her queue and tamed her curls. Lorran tugged the cap down, letting the fabric stretch. Designed to fit over horns, the cap had no issue containing her hair. The bottom of the cap melded with the suit, leaving an opening for the face.
“This is a button just under your ear that will activate the face plate and environmental functions. When the faceplate is in position, the suit’s AI will be available,” Lorran explained, then guided her hand to the button. The faceplate knitted together. “Let the AI run a system check. These suits have been in storage and may require calibration.”
He tugged on his own helmet and activated the faceplate. After a quick system check to ensure the operational status of the suit, he disengaged the faceplate. He had a med kit at the ready and a blade strapped on either thigh.
