Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
It’s a frivolous, silly gift. I have zero use for a candle.
I sniff it, though. The scent is nice. Sweet and lightly floral. It’s pink, a girly, childish color.
I shouldn’t like it, I tell myself even as I pick the candle up and sniff it again, pleased.
Jrrru returns the next afternoon, close to sunset. I’m not surprised. Something tells me that he’s going to make a nuisance of himself until I tell him to fuck off completely. This time when he knocks, there’s no package in his hands, and I don’t bother waiting three rounds to see if he’s going to give up on pounding on the door.
I open after the first round of knocking and give him my best combative look. “What?”
He just beams at me as if my presence has made him the happiest cat-man on the planet. There’s a faint purr underscoring his voice. “You took my gift inside. Did you like it?”
I shrug, trying not to think about how many times I sniffed that candle yesterday. “It was a candle.”
His expression falls, and the purring stops. “So I did wrong?”
“I didn’t say that.” I feel like a jerk now. Like I kicked a puppy…or a kitten. Not that he’s anything like a kitten.
The purring returns, and Jrrru grins at me, showing whiskers and that strange cat-like mouth of his. “My offer stands, you know. If you want me to pick up something for you in town, I’m happy to do so. I just got another job. The owner of the cantina wants some metal casks for a distillery he’s putting together to meet demand and so I’ll be working on those for a while. Figured if I’m going in and out of Port every day I could run errands. If you want, of course. If not, I’ll leave you alone.”
This time I give him a skeptical look. “Will you really leave me alone?”
He blinks at me once. “Even I know when I’m not wanted, Tabitha. Me showing up when you’ve made it clear that you hate me would just be harassment. So yeah, if I’m bothering you, say the word and I won’t return.”
Oh. He’s putting this on me. I cross my arms, hating that part even as I scowl at him. His tail flicks, and the purring in his chest stutters, as if he’s not sure if he should be happy or sad.
“I could use more noodles,” I say after a moment. “Plain ones.”
He nods once, but the purring grows so loud that I could swear he’s shaking my house with the force of it. Obviously, Jrrru is pleased.
That shouldn’t make me flood with satisfaction. “I’ll get you some credits—“
Jrrru holds a clawed hand up. “No need. You can pay me back when I bring it to your step. Just in case I purchase you the wrong thing, I don’t want you to be out your funds. And I don’t want you stressing over when I come back, because it might take a few days.” He grins at me, showing long sharp teeth that somehow don’t scare me like they should. “But I will absolutely be back, fragrant Tabitha.”
“Are you saying I smell?” That’s the second time he’s called me “fragrant,” now that I think about it.
“Oh yes,” he says, and he’s purring even louder. “You smell quite lovely.”
And even though I hate myself for it, I blush a little.
It takes Jrrru three days to return. When he does, he looks tired and sweaty and there’s a streak of grime across his furry orange brow, as if he wiped a hand there.
But he also has a case of noodles. Plain, just like I asked.
He stands on the porch and I open the door before he knocks. His ears prick in surprise, and then he manages a fatigued smile for me. “Hello, Tabitha. How are you today, my sweet-smelling one?”
I shrug, my arms crossed over my chest. This is the first time I’ve answered the door without a weapon in hand and I feel a little vulnerable. He’s going to ask to come in, isn’t he? I suspect he is. He looks like he needs a break, or a drink of water, but I don’t know how I feel about the thought of him demanding his way inside my sanctuary simply because he bought me some noodles.
But he stands there with the noodle case in his arms and just looks at me expectantly.
“How…how was work?”
This time, his ears flatten. “Let’s just say I got asked to make metal distillery barrels by someone that doesn’t know how metal works. I had half of them made before he decided they looked ‘too round.’”
“Too…round?” My brows go up. “They’re barrels.”
“Exactly. I told him if he wanted metal sculpting, he was going to have to pay a lot more.”
I give a little bark of laughter.