13: Kitchen Afternoon

“I’M not hungry.”

This being the second time Evan had expressed in a sullen tone what I knew to be an untruth, I gave in, taking his plate to the counter. There was a sink, but I hadn’t lived this long to get my paws wet on purpose.

There were gloves—which didn’t matter. I’d struck a nerve while teasing him. Removing the food from sight was the start of my apology.

The rest could wait, and possibly involve telling Paul how Evan reacted—there being the need to explain why crumbs and bits of his sandwich coated the kitchen—though it was also possible I shouldn’t. Unless I was mistaken, Paul’s last kiss had been from Skalet, to deliver the antidote to the poison she’d administered to him in the first place; he hadn’t enjoyed the experience.

Pairings were so complicated. I’d snuck Ycl mating pheromones once, winding up a miserable condensate until Ansky helped me cleanse.

Complicated we didn’t need.

“To business, then,” I ordered in my most official voice, standing where there weren’t crumbs. “Tell me about the Elves.”

“I have to tell someone,” he muttered confusingly. He sat a moment, hands wrapped around the mug, then looked up. “Let me start at the beginning. I started work at the Commonwealth Embassy, in March-Ne, three standard months ago. On Dokeci-Na. It was understood—Paul knows—”

So did I, as Bess. This me showed an encouraging fang. “You’ve phobias. Paul told me.” I went on, because it was how I felt, too. “He was impressed how you coped in order to do your duty. It must be difficult,” I finished. An admirable being, Evan Gooseberry. Even if he had wasted Paul’s sandwich.

“It can be.” Almost a smile. “The appearance of a Dokeci triggers my two worst fears. Knowing that, I’ve been preparing for years for this post and—it’s going well. I can be in a room with one. Converse. Do my work. I’m still—I’m not comfortable out on the streets or in groups, so my seniors assigned me responsibility for Human visitors.”

I sat again. “Boring?”

The smile appeared, shaving off years. “The official term, Esen, is routine. The same routine, day after day. By the second week, I could do it in my sleep.” His face grew serious. “Until someone from Burtles-Mautil Intersystem Holdings showed up at my desk with a problem.”

He went on to explain.