💝
Send 💝 for a platonic kiss
She’s not expecting anyone at this hour, taking a break from Stalking for a bit to let a sprain heal. Nothing too serious, plus she gets to spend some time with Jaeger. The Shepherdish is sleeping at the side of the cot like a good dog since his mistress is confined to it, the hurt leg elevated and her nose in a book.
The rattling knock on the flimsy door draws her attention to it, Jaeger’s outlandishly tall ears perking forward as he stands to protect. Volk places a hand on the dog, setting the book in her lap as she sits up in full.
“Ja?”
The door opens, a familiar stocky form filling it … and recoiling with a cough of surprise. Jaeger recognizes him, though from what aspect is hard to tell; the grungy appearance, the grungy smell, or the voice that sounds like he has been drinking that which he was named after for a month or five.
“Bourbon! How nice of you to visit.” she greets, lifting her hand from the dog so he can run to say hello.
“You really shouldn’t stare at people like that.” he scolds before ruffling the Shepherdish’s ears and neck fluff. “Damn near gave me a heart attack, thought one of your Librarians was visiting for a second.”
“Please. Like Uncle Melnik would let me bring one in.” she snorts, ruffling Jaeger’s head and ears when he comes back to her to lay his head in her lap, asking for a second round of pets and praises.
“True. That man’s a hard-ass. Which reminds me!” Bourbon digs around in one of the bags, scooching closer to her and pulling out a worn book and handing it to her. “Get well wishes.”
“How does me spraining myself remind you of being a hard-ass.” she asks, though it’s more an observation than a question.
“Melnik told me you were laid up.”
“Did he really?”
“Eeeeeeh no, I heard it from Khan, who heard it from Ulman, who heard it from Melnik, who heard it from Boris.”
“Thought so.” she quips, taking hold of the offered book and thumbing through it. “Cpyciba, Bourbon. It seems to be intact. Where did you find it?”
“One of the stations I went through a while back. You’d be surprised what people will ignore from days before.” He sounds proud of himself before adding on, “Besides, the Brahmin Council don’t want it. Not cultural enough for them, I guess.”
“Of course not. They rarely have need of fiction unless it’s over a hundred years old. They read the boring historical things and lock them up with the busted up portrait of Lenin someone brought in a few years ago.” is her reply.
She sets the novel in her lap on top of her other one, leaning forward to plant a small peck of a thank you kiss on the one part of the huckster she can reach. The tip of his nose. The sudden move makes him jump momentarily, a reflex flinch. He shrugs when she looks at him, a pout on her face.
“Stop acting like I’m trying to eat your face off.”
“I can’t help it, it’s self-preservation instinct! You just might eat it!”
She looses a scoff, more of a snort of air through her nose. “Please, Bourbon. I have no idea where you’ve been, that is not a risk I would be willing to take. I have my health to think about, you know.”
He waves a hand dismissively in front of his face. “Yeah, yeah. I know. So, how did you hurt yourself?”
The answer is so quiet and quick, he has to ask her to repeat it and slow down a few times. Another pout at being outed only adds to the hilarity of the event. “I stepped in a Nosalis hole…”
