Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 144433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
I head to my kitchen, taking a deep, calming breath. I wanted company, right? Well, I got company. He's the most infuriating man—cat, whatever—I've ever met and I only met him a few hours ago. How long can it possibly take for someone to come get him, I wonder. I move to the comm unit and punch in the corresponding symbols that make up Kazex's personal line (or whatever passes for that in alien-land). There's no answer, and I'm not entirely sure how the phone systems work here or even if they're like phones at all. We humans use them like that, but maybe aliens don't? I should ask Zhur...
And then I laugh at myself, because he probably had a servant just for calling people on the phone, a directory assistance slave if you will. If he doesn't know how to work a bathtub, he sure doesn't know how to call anyone.
Tomorrow I'll go into town and tell Simone I need to talk to Kazex right away. That there's been a huge mistake.
Until then, I just have to endure my new friend. I eye my tidy little kitchen. He's probably going to want dinner. Heck, I want dinner.
Now the question is, do I commit to my whole “no running water and cooking over fire” schtick and make more work for myself, or do I let him in on the joke?
I...don't know if he has much of a sense of humor. At least, not yet. He's pretending to be genial but I also remember the hand that whipped out and grabbed my wrist when I tried to touch his earring.
Maybe he won't find my joke on him funny.
Well, shit. I really do make things hard for myself, don't I? With a sigh, I fill a bucket with water and decide I'm going to have to figure out how to make stew over the fire.
Me and my big mouth.
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
ZHURRRVAS
I really do think the human is stupid, poor thing.
My legs squeezed and bent into the tub, I splash water on myself and sniff the bottles of personal cleansers she has. She's written human symbols over the actual canister markings, but I'm able to make out something that's like a mane detangler, and a decent soap that doesn't reek of flowers. It's very clear she doesn't have a sensitive nose based on the layers of scents these will all deposit, but I suppose I can be understanding. She was expecting a small creature to be a companion, not a praxiian Heir.
I carefully wash my mane and body with her inferior products, hating that it has come to this. I should be in my own tub, big enough for twenty people, with my servant gently bathing my mane so it doesn't tangle. I should get out of the bath, be dried off and combed again, adorned with the jewelry I choose for the day, and then I can pick out the clothes I wish to wear to impress the visiting courtiers.
I shouldn't be crammed in a refugee's tiny tub and sitting in cold water.
At least I can help the poor thing. She's convinced she doesn't have running water, but I recognize the spouts on the tub itself. Did no one teach her how to use the equipment in her house? Poor little human fool.
Then again, if I try to be helpful, she'll probably spout her life story again and I've no wish to hear it for a second time today.
I climb out of the tub—not an easy thing on its own as the tub was definitely not meant to hold a praxiian in his prime—and pick up the towel she's left for me. Disgraceful. The towel is rough, of cheap make, and is sure to make my mane snarl. I'll just have to air dry, I suppose. I cast the offending towel aside and leave the claustrophobic lavatory behind.
The female is crouched near the fire, sweating, and stirring a pot. The moment she sees me, she screeches again. "You're dripping all over the floor!"
"Your drying cloths are disgraceful. I'm surprised you haven't sloughed off a layer of skin using those things." Then again, she could probably use a good exfoliation, if her strange, furless face is any indication. "I won't be using them. I require better."
Her expression is downright aghast. "I don't have better."
"Then, like I said, I shall dry naturally and you can tease my fur into an attractive flatness with a heated wand once it's no longer wet."
She blinks at me as if she doesn't quite believe what she's hearing and then shakes her head, pointing at the bathroom. "You can't drip on the furniture. You're going to have to stand in the bathroom if you're not going to use the towel."
Bah. I stride past her, heading for the front door. "I will use the atmospheric circulators outside. I want to get a good look at this forsaken planet anyhow."