Page 95 of Right Next Door
“I am on your side,” he frowned. “I’m trying to keep your mating from being more difficult than necessary. You told me yourself he’s romantically incapable.”
“He is that,” she sighed with a soft smile. “But damn if he doesn’t try his absolute hardest. No one’s ever put in as much effort for me as him. But that just proves my point! Deciding to marry me then deciding that others will do all my wedding planning is literally the opposite of effort. It’s much more like delegation, and that’s not how I’m trying to have my wedding.”
“I’m only more certain of my lack of desire to mate a human female,” Flik said as she finished his hand then sat back to look over her work.
“I wish upon you the fussiest, most demanding, finicky, picky human female on Earth.”
“You are a cruel friend, and with you at my side, I no longer have the need for enemies.”
“It’s called efficiency, and you’re welcome,” she grinned at him, sitting back. “Anyway, I haven’t seen his char-liness for the last few days. He and Boktare are both going to the opening of the new True Match in the city. They’re not announcing the new plans to the public yet, but both of them being there is supposed to be signaling a new change. They’re not saying anything, but they want people to start talking. Or something like that. Politics isn’t really my thing.”
“Are you going?”
“Naturally,” she sighed, spinning lazily on her hovering stool. “Part of our whole deal is me being at his disposal for events.”
“Your whole deal?” Flik cocked his head curiously. “What’s that mean?”
“You know, our thing.” She came to a stop, leaning on her arm rest. “He pays for everything, and in return, I’m his little doll to dress up and show off how he pleases.”
Flik blinked at her. “Er, does the char know that’s how you consider your arrangement?”
“I mean, he can’t really miss it.”
“And why do you assume that?”
Misty frowned at him. Why was he asking her like that? Slowly, like she was being dumb. “Come on. There’s no way he doesn’t recognize what’s happening. Paying for love is so basic. It’s older than the concept of marriage itself.”
“Yes, but we don’t have love on Kree. Not that kind anyway.”
Misty opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Because he was right. This culture heavily emphasized not being in a relationship. Sex was okay, but actually having a relationship with someone you have sex with wasn’t. So, if love – not sex, but affection – wasn’t really a thing, then why would anyone pay for it?
She slumped down. “Fuck.”
“I’m not saying he’s not wrong,” Flik assured her. “He probably just doesn’t realize what he did.”
“No, Iknowhe doesn’t realize what he did.” She sighed. “And he hasn’t approached me in days because he’s giving me space again. I was pretty clear that I didn't want to talk to him before. He’s being courteous. And he probably won’t approach me to apologize until I give him permission.”
“And that’s… bad?” Flik asked, hedging in his confusion.
She smiled wearily. “It’s adorable. He’s so damn thick.”
“I’m still not sure if that means it’s bad or good.”
Moving the arm of the stool out of her way, Misty stood, straightening her clothes. “I have to get ready for the party.”
Flik frowned. “It’s not for marks.”
“Yes, and I need all those marks to get dressed.”
“I do not understand human females. The only fur you have is on your head. What could possibly take you so long?”
???
The raw appreciation in her male’s gaze when Misty came down the steps of Fellbud Manor made all the effort she’d put into her appearance worth it.
The traditional robes worn by the kreecharma were extremely detailed in their embroidery. For the common citizen, they could just buy pre-made robes and be done with it. But Misty was in a position such that hers were all made for her. But even with super advanced machines and techniques, there was still a great appreciation for handmade things. So, when she first began to order her own robes, she was told it would take many tendays for them to come in.
And, finally, she was starting to get them. Today was the first time she was wearing a custom made robe – tailor fit in a style of her design. And damn if it didn't feel exactly right.
