Page 28 of Prometheus' Priestess

It was the closest she’d come to initiating contact, and Prometheus felt a swoop of deep delight surprisingly roll through him. In truth, he had brought her here because he figured the casual setting would make her feel more at ease, though they really did do great fried chicken. He had seen enough fear in humans to know that home or small comforts could be like a weighted blanket against the feelings surging through their bodies.

The shop itself was narrow, two-thirds of it being taken up with the aluminium cooker tops and the counter itself, which separated the customers from the cooking. The Perspex counter displayed a selection of cooked meats. There was fried chicken as well as battered sausages, an assortment of pizzas, and a separate salad and cold bar section closer to the cashier. On the other side of the cashier, there was a door to what was clearly the staff area and, Amara supposed, a toilet facility. Not that it was accessible to the customers, what with it being behind thecounter.

She drummed her unvarnished and neatly clipped nails on the red countertop, looking at the menu up ahead behind the cashier and settled on a chicken box meal deal. Prometheus stood behind her and ordered himself two burgers, onion rings, fries, salad, and a large drink.

Amara’s eyes widened at the order. Then again, he wasn’t exactly a small man. Strange then, that she should feel so comfortable with a large male presence at her back. Then again, her abuser hadn’t been big. Strength she had discovered, painful humiliating brute force, did not necessarily require a larger size.

Taking their seats at one of the four tables located opposite the counter, with its uncomfortable metal chairs and scratched-up fake wooden top, they waited for their food in silence. Theo appeared to like the silence. But Amara’s mind was anything but a silent place. Thoughts raced behind her eyes as if she had a million things to do and a million places to be. Yet, here she was, having dinner with a stranger in a shitty little chicken shop.

“Miss, here’s your meal.”

The lanky kid behind the counter couldn’t have been more than nineteen. He had a face covered in acne spreading from his temples all the way down to his chin that held a scrap of bumfluff. His ginger hair was tucked into a red cap that matched his oversized polo shirt of the same colour, which only served to make his skin look more inflamed. Amara couldn’t tell if the lad was blushing at her or if he had the misfortune to have eczema too.

Theo kept his back to the wall as she returned to her seat, facing the counter rather than her so she didn’t feel like she was being watched. But he kept an eye on her in his periphery and gave a small smile when he saw her eyes roll into the back of her head, her face infused with pleasure at the taste of her meal. Retaking his seat after collecting his own order, he tucked his legs under the table, his thighs brushing against the underside of the tabletop. There was a brief second where his knee touched hers.

Amara immediately jerked hers away.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she muttered, her eyes firmly on her food.

“No, it’snot.”

Amara looked up to see him staring at her with those deep brown eyes intently.

“There’s only one reason a woman actively avoids touch.”

He could see her pulse pounding in her throat. He continued.

“It denotes abuse of somekind.”

Amara remained silent. The lights above them flickered slightly. A couple entered the shop and placed their order at the counter. A chicken burger, chicken nuggets, and two portions of chips, extrasalted.

“That man, in the exhibition with us …”

“I don’t want to talk aboutit.”

He paused for a moment then tried a different tack.

“How long have you been in Edinburghfor?”

Amara played with the chip, swirling them around in a ketchup and mayonnaise painting. She’d lost her appetite.

Finally she said, “A fewmonths.”

Unwrapping the foil on his second burger, Theo didn’t say anything for a while, his gaze lowered. It helped her not feel intruded upon. She closed the polystyrene lid on her meal while he continued taking large, measured bites of his burger.

Eventually she said, “I used to love meeting new people when I was back home. But now, travelling, nowhere feelssafe.”

Now she was talking, he tentatively leaned forward and braced his elbows on the table. Amara wasn’t sure the weight of the chair he was in could actually hold the size of him.

She noticed his forearms, dusted with dark brown hair, bulging against the fabric of his blue shirt that was rolled up to the elbows, as if they were desperate to escape.

“What made you want to comehere?”

Amara laughed. “You wouldn’t believe me if I toldyou.”

“You might besurprised.”

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