Page 35 of Etched in Stone
“We don’t have to go back to New York. We could go somewhere else,” Ray began.
“The Rose Syndicate will find us. Facial recognition software and all that jazz.”
“Giles can help with that. With this tech, I might be able to fix my perception filter.”
“You mean you won’t be stuck in a sweater vest for the rest of your life?”
“Exactly.”
“I dunno. I kinda think the fedora is sexy.”
“It won’t work on you any more. You’ve seen and… touched too much for your brain to process me any differently than what it does now.”
“So I should buy you a real fedora.”
“I probably have one around somewhere. A trenchcoat too, although that look went out of style sometime after I came to New York.”
“I like you just the way you are, sweater vest and all.”
Ray beamed. “That’s the champagne talking.”
“I had like three sips, silly.”
“You’re a lightweight. One drink and you’re demanding a dance.”
“That’s because I wanted a dance, not because I had anything to drink.”
Ray smirked and pulled up the hem of her skirt on one side.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking to see if you think I’m a lecherous old man.”
“Of course, I think you’re a lecherous old man. But you’re my lecherous old man.”.
1 3
JE SSE
Jesse tried to get rid of that pit in the bottom of her stomach as she locked both deadbolts on her apartment. She knew that the elevator was now limited to the floor below and Ray had installed a serious set of electronic locks on the stairway door. The only way someone was getting up here was with his permission.
Maybe some tea would calm her nerves. And some comfort food. Jesse started some hot water as Ray headed to his apartment with the box of goodies.
It totally felt like a ramen day. Quick hot noodles with enough sodium to kill a horse. She stopped for a moment and tried to think. Had she even seen Ray eat? What did he eat? He was an alien. For all she knew, he could be completely allergic to noodles. Or maybe he was a vegan.
She left the water in the kettle and circled around to Ray's apartment. He was sitting on a stool next to a workbench by the crate. He was pulling out each item and examining it like a kid at Christmas who had too many presents and didn't know where to start. She came up behind him and peered over his shoulder.
“Morris was right. A lot of these are fakes. The question is, how many of them were built from models that the Rose Syndicate still owns?”
“I think it might be on the dangerous side to poke the bear again,” Jesse said. “I'm going to fix myself some noodles.”
He nodded, thoroughly engrossed in a little silver black square.
“And some tea.”
“Right.”
“Do you want some? I mean, you're an alien. I don't even know what you eat.”
