Page 34 of Katya and the Young God

“Old injury, it won’t affect things,” she says, crisp, even though it’s literally her job to talk to people who have discovered others, to smooth over that transition, but clearly, someone already discussed it with Nathan. “Just causes it to be sore sometimes.”

Nathan nods, curiosity clearly written over his face. “If you need someone to take some weight, let us know,” he says, and he’s so nice it hurts. “We’ll help, it’s no big deal, we do harder caves than this weekly.”

Glancing at the group of cavers, who are the only ones not sweating, she doesn’t doubt it.

“It’s nice to know we’re not the only normal people here, though,” he says, his smile still easy. “How’d someone so normal get caught up in a group like this?”

And she has to blink, almost taken aback, because unless she’s mistaken, he’s actually flirting with her. So few people try.

“She works with the government,” Pieter chimes in, just a few steps away, also sitting comfortably next to his bag. “She’s here to make sure we don’t break any laws.”

That’s not exactly accurate, but Nathan sits back, opening his body language up to include Pieter in their conversation. “Wait, really?”

“Not really,” Katya says, because that’s probably a counterproductive way to think of things. “I’m here to see what it’s all about just as much as everyone else.”

She can almost, almost, see a smirk in Pieter’s eyes.

Nathan hesitates a moment, before obviously turning to Pieter. “Sorry for the awkward question, but how do you fit in all of this?” He asks, and his voice is remarkably cooler than it was to Katya, which is unsettling in its own right. So few people flirt, it’s so rare.

Pieter’s gaze is flat and unfriendly. “I’m the one opening up the first seal,” he says.

“Oh, you’re the half god person,” Nathan replies, like it’s clicking together. “Neat.”

Pieter scowls at him but Nathan just turns back to Katya, much more friendly. “How’d you even get a government job working with people like this?” It’s almost prejudiced, almost rude, but he’s smiling at her.

“I was recruited,” she says, which isn’t a lie, even if it’s not entirely accurate, but she wants the conversation to end, to go back to being one of the crowd.

“I can’t even imagine,” he says, and she digs in her pack for her food, anything she can do to avoid the attention. “You must have some crazy stories.”

And she does, she really does, but she’d rather saw her own hand off than tell any of them right now.

“Have you ever met any government official with interesting stories?” Pieter interrupts, smooth, and she refuses to let herself feel grateful. “It’s all bureaucracy and paperwork.”

Katya takes a moment to sit back, obviously against her pack and starts to eat the dry, bland protein bar, hoping, all but praying, that Nathan leaves her alone.

After another glance to Pieter, Nathan stands, not able to get to his full height with the ceiling, and giving a friendly smile to Katya, moves on to sit with the other human guides.

She exhales as soon as he’s gone, and Pieter coughs out something approaching a laugh. “You’re bad at flirting,” he says, and she just wishes he’d shut up.

“I wasn’t trying to flirt,” she snaps back. “I was distinctly trying to not flirt.”

“Good, because that’d be a disaster if you were actually trying.” His accent is rough, deepening the vowels, clipping his consonants. “To think, all we had to do to torture you would be to put you in a room with friendly men.”

He’s joking, he’s actually joking about that day. “I prefer my flirting at a time when people aren’t maybe about to die.”

He shrugs, face easy for the first time. “Is that ever with you?”

“I have plenty of boring days,” she says, never mind that she’s proving his earlier point, and she can see the hidden smirk when she says it. “But in a cave where people might die—" including her, but she’s really trying to not focus on that— “and people who tortured me, really isn’t the place.”

The barb doesn’t land as hard as she would like, and he shrugs again.

“Do you know where all the bones are from?” She asks, desperate to try to change the subject, for anything to think about besides the weird as fuck conversation they're having.

“People,” he helpfully supplies.

“Thanks.”

He shrugs again, eating an identical protein bar. “They’re so old it’s impossible to tell. Easily four centuries, if I had to guess.”

---