Page 12 of Shifter King
"It's easy enough after enough practice." He picked up another stick and made himself one with just as much ease. His handle was a little bluer and coarser than hers. "Is WroOth all right out there?"
"He's in a mood," QueQoa said. "He'll be fine. You know how he gets."
"So you liked Laachtue?" She turned the broom around in her hands, weighing its heft before setting it to the floor.
"Well enough." He tilted his head as he studied her, the movement even more exaggerated because of his size. "Why are you blushing when you ask me that? You haven’t met her. At least not when you were conscious."
"It’s just warm in here."
He narrowed his eyes at her. "Your eyes flashed red. That doesn’t mean you’re about to kill. I do remember that."
"No." She shook her head. "I’m just—it’s nice to think that someone could find happiness out here after everything that has happened. And I like you. I’d like it if you were happy."
"I am..." He paused. "I have been happy. It’s hard to be happy when things are as they are now. It does not take a veskaro to be happy, little sister."
"No. But..." She started sweeping. The act felt comfortable. Familiar. She’d done this so many times in Indiana. In Uncle Joe’s home. In her own. At the vet’s office. "You know my friends always did matchmaking when they were sad."
"They were Awdawms." He nodded as if this explained everything. "Well, relationships have many reasons for Awdawms. Sometimes amusement is one of them. That is not how it is for Vawtrians."
"No, I know you can’t take it lightly. Though, goodness above, you do take it fast sometimes. At least some of you. I don’t know about you personally. I just know that I would like for you to be happy or at least as happy as possible."
He began to sweep in the other corner of the room. "I am as happy as I can be given the circumstances, little sister." He made long sure strokes, pulling the debris into the center of the room. "But these are not happy times. They might not be for a long time." He released a long sigh, then shook his head. His thick brown-blonde hair curled over his shoulders. "But my family is well. For now, that is enough. More than enough."
His people weren’t though. That weighed on him. Perhaps even the fact that Laachtue was an Abliato. Still she looked forward to meeting the woman. Through their memories, she had a clear picture of her. Taller than average, strong shoulders, full hips, wild hazel-blonde hair with tiny ringlets that formed a cloud around her head. Or a halo as QueQoa thought of it. Striking tattoos along her cheeks and temples. She swept a little faster, her hands tightening around the smooth broom handle. Little puffs of dust rose up as she continued to sweep.
Her nose tickled. It still smelled like a centipede graveyard in here. But it felt good to make progress.
She glanced back at QueQoa. He wasn’t lying. He was essentially content to remain as he was. Even with all the frustration, sorrow, pain, and fear of these past days, he was perhaps the most calm. And something was starting to grow. Whether it was because he was compatible with Laachtue or simply because he wanted a relationship. It would likely be awhile before he was willing to take the chance unless biology asserted itself. After what had happened with WroOth and AaQar...
"Everything worth keeping in there is made of metal," WroOth announced from the entrance. "Come out, and I’ll set the bunker on fire."
"WroOth." Amelia walked to the base of the ladder and peered up at him. "Is everything all right up there? Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. No single mantis will mar or end me. We got the body so we can study it. Now come up here. I want to set something on fire."
"While I'm glad you are all right, you can’t just set the bunker on fire."
QueQoa came to stand beside her. He folded his arms, his expression concerned and his brow lined. He didn't seem so convinced.
WroOth gave a dramatic shrug from the entrance. "It’ll deal with the smell as well as the debris. And if it’s hot enough and the right type, there will hardly be any dust or ash left and it won't create much smoke at all." He propped his chin up with his hand. "Or do you enjoy sweeping and sneezing?"
"He's right," QueQoa said. "It might be for the best if we just set it all on fire."
She folded her arms as she regarded them both. "But if you were just going to set the inside on fire, why didn’t you say so from the start?"
WroOth shrugged, his palm still against his chin. "As far as I’m concerned, setting things on fire is always a possibility. If there’s anything you want to save, pull it out. Or show me. I want this place flaming in a quarter of an hour."
"Will you at least come down and make sure that whatever fire you're going to use isn't going to melt anything down here?"
"As far as I’m concerned, dear heart, if they’re that important, you can certainly move them, can’t you? Or are you saying you aren’t strong enough?" He lifted his brows at her mischievously.
"I’m saying if you don’t come in and check and you melt things like these benches, you’re going to be sitting your butt on the cold metal floor."
He offered yet another dramatic shrug. "You think that bothers me?"
QueQoa removed the bolts from the nearest bench and picked it up. "Probably best to take them out just in case. They aren't made of the same metal as the rest of the bunker, and I'm not fully certain what they are" He passed it up through the opening, nearly striking WroOth in the face. "You'll be bothered if you don’t move."
"Clumsy iron dragon." WroOth batted it away, then caught the edge and hefted it out. "Don’t put that in my face again."
