Sleeping was a difficult objective to achieve for Miss La, as after going through an entire scale-care regimen and carefully cultivating an outfit to wear… she was just far too excited to rest.
To not appear tired the following morning, Miss La forced herself into a sleep cycle via medication and soothing sounds from her data-slate, allowing her to get a few hours of rest.
Her alarm going off brought her out of the hotel bed like she was launched from a rocket pad, and she quickly slipped on her clothes.
Deciding to hedge every success rate she could manage, Miss La chose a more ornately designed pair of “outing leggings”, thickly woven with little designs down the side of the thighs. These leggings were more substantial than regular leggings, as female pilots preferred to wear them while travelling and wanted to look more “professional” when entering a station.
Clever clothing companies made their own designs, including thicker material, belt loops, pockets, and reinforced sections around the seat, knees, shins, and outer thigh. Looking much like riding pants for equestrian sports, this allowed the leggings to survive in contact with rough piloting chairs, being under control panels, and kept joints safe during rough rides in the void.
On Miss La, she was relying on them highlighting certain features that she knew Human men preferred, and being stretchy enough for a bit of walking. To make the ensemble look a bit more professional, she picked out a Skalathir cape top, embroidered with the rolling arcs of blue forge flame and splitting at the sides.
To keep things interesting, she only wore a simple, high-cut tube top to make sure her anvils didn’t go peeking out where they shouldn’t, but left other things to show through if someone paid enough attention.
With a few engraved golden wrist bangles and a carved golden band around the middle of her tail, Miss La believed she looked quite good as she turned from side to side in the mirror.
Fearing her fluttering stomach would become upset if she ate, Miss La ignored the free breakfast area and instead chose to wait outside. As she had been passing the front desk, a young female Human waved her over, pulling up a data-slate.
“Missus La?” She called out, though she was pretty sure she was the only one of her kind and color in the hotel at this time. “I have a message for you!”
“A message?” Miss La asked, walking towards the hotel front desk and pulling out her own data-slate.
The woman nodded and touched her data-slate to Miss Las, and a little pop up box blipped onto her screen.
“He seemed rather excitable and out of breath, but if he was regular Army then that means they were likely just getting done with morning physical training.” She said happily, placing her hands over the other at her waist as she looked up steeply at Miss La.
Miss La arched a brow, then opened the message with a press of the clawed finger.
“Be there at 0830 sharp!”, was all the message said, though Miss La’s tail did sway at the thought of the male Human arriving after doing his morning training.
“I had a mind to ring you if you didn’t come down soon.” The hotel front desk worker piped up, then shrugged. “But you have a whole half hour to go until he shows up.”
Miss La smiled at her. “I’ve actually been up since seven.”
“Oooh.” She breathed, then a grin split her lips. “You must be rather excited to meet him, then.”
Rather annoyed that her race could blush, Miss La pressed her draconic lips together before turning her head away. “We met yesterday, actually.”
“Oh my, you move quickly.” The woman said with a giggle, and Miss La grimaced while her head tendrils twitched.
“Yes… well… thank you.” She murmured, turning away from the desk sharply and making her way towards the doors.
Miss La stood outside in the early Georgian morning, the late Spring weather still cool despite the warmer days.
She bowed her head forward in greeting to Humans who passed by her, most of them leaving, while a few more were coming in from their ships, bone tired and ragged looking. She had to help an older man with his luggage, and just from the age alone Miss La reckoned he may have seen the tail end of multiple wars.
After being called a “lovely dragon woman” by the older Human man, Miss La only had a few more minutes to wait before a large truck began to rumble down the loop towards the front doors of the hotel.
The truck was a normal Human creation, steel and iron wrapped around a massive diesel engine, and tires that could handle the weight of multiple vehicles from the other races. Like most trucks made on Earth, this one looked military, sporting a massive rams head ornament on the hood along with weapon-mounting points.
As per production guidelines since the war with The Pactless, all Human made trucks had to have hardpoints for weapons on both the sides and inside the truck bed itself, allowing any truck on Earth to instantly be turned into a technical combat vehicle. Since diesel was easy and cheap to come by, all trucks had to be diesel operated, while others used battery systems similar to ships.
Some races of the IDC didn’t understand the reliance on the fuel, currently a biodiesel blended with certain fossil fuels, but Miss La understood it quite well; Where there was some kind of oil, a Human truck could operate and fuel itself where others would need a power source of purely modern design.
There was also the angle of the engines being immune to power-drawing weapons, powered by fire and combustion rather than batteries themselves.
The truck rumbled and thrummed as it came to a stop in front of the hotel, standard height which allowed Miss La to peek over the top of it cheekily. She saw Bloodmourne hop out and gamely jog around the grill of the truck, his smile nearly as bright as the rising sun.
“Good morning!” Bloodmourne called out, clapping his hands together. “Sorry about being here so late, I got hung up after PT by one of my troopers having an issue.”
Miss La breathed in deep through her nose, smelling his sweat that had failed to be fully washed away.
She rather liked it, really, as it matched well with his sandalwood soap.
“One of your soldiers was having an issue?” Miss La asked, stepping back as he opened the door for her.
He had brought the seat all the way back and down, allowing her to slip in comfortably… as if he had remembered how tall she was.
Funnily enough, there was a tail hole already set into the seat for her, tailored and padded. This was likely not just for her, as the Humans found it an easy job to cut a tail hole for the Kafya, Skalathir, and Lilgara that may need it… as well as whatever else came wagging out of the stars.
Miss La got comfortable in the seat, fiddling with the seat buckle as Bloodmourne trotted around the truck and got back inside. She found it adorable how much “golden retriever” energy the Human had, clearly excited by the prospect of the day.
“Ah yeah, her mom went berserk and attacked her while her Platoon was out playing football with a few other troopers.” Bloodmourne said off handedly, putting the truck into drive and grumbling the engine to life. “She’s been cooped up in the jail with the MPs, has been causing a ruckus the entire time.”
Miss La had to make a concentrated effort to not let her jaw drop, and her brain spun to fever pitch as her four eyes twitched.
“I…” Miss La began, blinking a few times while looking anywhere but at the man. “Forgive me, what is your rank, again?”
Bloodmourne shrugged. “Just Sergeant First Class, I operate out of the 1st Wild Hunt.”
“O-Oh.” Miss La stuttered out, and everything clicked into place like the crisp snap of plastic building blocks.
She was with the Bloodmourne.
Rhidi’s Bloodmourne.
“S-...So,” Miss La began, her fingers fidgeting in her lap, “What is going on with your trooper’s mother?”
“Ah, just a crazy bitch.” Bloodmourne chuckled, turning out onto the main road. “Ran up and jumped on my Joe, but she slammed her mother into the mud and the MPs snatched her up. She was making a huge fuss about her clothes being taken away and has been screaming at the cage kickers since she arrived at the jail. They’re pushing up her court date to today just to get her out of there.”
Miss La hummed a laugh in her throat to herself, picturing that awful yellow furred Kafya wearing black and white stripes. “Will she be going to prison?”
“Nah.” Bloodmourne replied. “Her husband is some big wig that is getting cozy with the Army pretty quickly, she’ll likely just get sent to house arrest on their ship.”
Ah. Miss La thought to herself. Protected by power, she’ll be used to that.
“Shame, seems she won’t see justice for assaulting your soldier.” Miss La mused, settling back into the comfortable seat of the truck. “Anyway, where are we going, if I may ask?”
Bloodmourne smiled over at her, his arms gripping the steering wheel in a way that made his muscles bulge slightly. “Well, have you eaten?”
“I have not.” Miss La replied, though it wasn’t her stomach that felt like taking a bite out of something. “But I wager you made arrangements for that.”
“Are you up to seeing a chow line up close?” Bloodmourne asked, that charming smile worming its way into Miss La’s mind like a boring machine.
Miss La smiled back at him, then turned her head to look out the windshield. “I must admit, I have not experienced it yet myself… I am curious.”
—
“Who the fuck is that?” Alias said as he gaped at the Skalathir standing next to Sergeant First Class Bloodmourne, the Human pointing things out to her and smiling broadly. “And what the fuck is he doing with his face?!”
Shasta perked his head up from his comic book, flaring his hood as he looked around. When he spotted the pair, he leaned down sideways towards Alias. “That’sss called a Ssskalathir, and Bloodmourne is ssssmiling.”
“I know what a Skalathir is, you scalebrain.” Alias growled, giving the Lilgara a soft punch to his chuckling ribs. “What the hell is he doing with her here?”
“I’d wager it’s to eat breakfast, Alias.” Rhidi laughed out, holding out her tray and smiling down at the pancakes being plopped onto it. “Ooo, apple spice!”
Alias looked up and right to Shasta, then up and left to Rhidi as they side stepped down the chow line. “Are none of you weirded out by this? None of you? Not a one?”
“Are you FUCKING kidding me?!”
Everyone who knew that voice stopped what they were doing and locked their eyes forward, as the voice of First Sergeant Lower was a hard one to miss.
The sounds of their First Sergeant being quickly bundled away by several 1st Company Officers and a few NCOs made everyone look at each other past the sides of their eyes, wondering if it was safe to move.
“And that was First Sergeant Lower.” Sergeant First Class Bloodmourne said, oddly loud in the sudden quiet. “He’s rather fond of your people as well.”
Rhidi turned her head a few inches to get a look at Alias, who was shuddering at the shoulders and trying not to laugh. “Holy shit.”
“That isss an odd way to start the morning.” Shasta said lowly as he received his pancakes, Alias blowing a few, short, strangled puffs of hair past his lips as he tried not to laugh.
Rhidi blinked to herself as the line started to move again, and she held out her tray for her portion of oatmeal.
“So when are you taking your sister out around base, Rhidi?” Alias asked after picking up his military bearings from where he dropped them, receiving his own oatmeal with a grimace. “Going to show her around the museum?"
Rhidi snorted. “She would rather suck on her own paw pads than go to a museum, but my dad and her friends are eager to go there. I’ll pick them up after breakfast and take a tarry-lift over there, will burn a few hours.”
“And how isss your mother, Rhidi?” Shasta asked, though he looked quite a bit more happy when he got his oatmeal. “Isss’she still in jail?”
Rhidi chuckled to herself, grabbing a cinnamon roll. “Not for long, dad got her hearing moved up to today. Knowing his silver tongue, they’ll probably just give her a slap on the wrist and a fine.”
“I still can’t get the image of you slamming her into the mud out of my head.” Alias giggled, taking two of the cinnamon rolls for himself. “That splat was legendary.”
Shasta laughed out in a hissing trill, taking a roll for himself. “I am still quite amusssed at how different you two are. She is full Kafya still, and her muscle massss is nearly child-like compared to you.”
“Can’t compete with Human food and lifting weights.” Rhidi agreed, eagerly using tongs to snap up multiple sheets of breakfast ham. “If I ever had to choke down another meal gel, I’d probably gag and spit back out.”
Alias shrugged. “I dunno, sometimes I miss Pwah food, but it’s more of a nostalgia thing than actually wanting it.”
“I’m never going back myssself.” Shasta intoned, holding out his tray as the cook plopped a cheese omelette onto it. “It is still sometimes frustrating that even in our current state, we still pale in comparison to the Humans.”
“Can’t take that too personally.” Rhidi replied, plucking out a fork and spoon from the bundles of metal utensils and heading towards the drinks. “They are just built different.”
Alias chuckled. “Hewn from bone, iron, and stone.”
“You’ve been playing that mining game again haven’t you?” Shasta asked him, reaching over the shorter Pwah and grabbing just a spoon.
Alias held up a fist, leaning back his head and whisper shouting. “Leave no Dwarf behind!”
“You are such a fucking dork, dude.” Rhidi said with a roll of her eyes as Shasta and Alias laughed to each other. “You two promise to behave when I bring my sister around?”
Shasta and Alias looked to each other, then back at Rhidi.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Great…” Rhidi muttered, sliding her tray along the table and taking a seat. “At least don’t quote video games the entire time and weird her and her friends out.”
“No promissses.” Shasta mused, plopping down next to Alias with a flick of his long tail.
Rhidi began cutting into her pancakes and looked around to the large, blue scaled Skalathir woman, who was touching a finger to her bottom lip as she looked down at the long trays of food.
“She makes Bloodmourne look short.” Rhidi muttered, popping a piece of pancake into her mouth. “She’s like, a foot taller than him.”
Shasta slurped gooey cheese into his mouth, chewing rapidly on his chunk of omelette as he turned and looked over his shoulder. “Ssshe seems like a forger, has the build. All Skalathir craft in some way.”
“Yeah, and if we leave her alone with Bloodmourne long enough she’s going to beat him into the shape of a husband.” Alias said, then let out a long, self indulgent chuckle to himself as the joke matured in his head.
Rhidi snorted as Shasta started to giggle through his mouthful of omelette, and she started cutting at her ham. “Only thing he has to worry about is Lower. That Human has a major hardon for Skalathir, and Bloodmourne just walked in here with his holy grail.”
“It’s always the ones you least expect, isn’t it?” Saffi said airily as she sat down next to Rhidi. “Apparently he’s showing her around the base!”
“I’m not surprised.” Uppil said lowly as she sat down across from Rhidi. “Our Human First Shirt has been pounding steel in the stables for weeks now, not exactly a riddle to figure out why.”
Shasta loudly chewed on another heavy slice of omelette, then swallowed loudly before pointing his fork over his shoulder. “Ssskalathir may as well find the smell of burning coal and hot iron the same way Human females find flowers and incense. Like mothsss to a flame!”
“Or a mosquito to a bug zapper.” Uppil said with a roll of her eyes. “Did you know he called off our training today to show her around?”
Alias laced his fork and knife bearing hands together under his chin, looking at Uppil thoughtfully. “I did find it odd that suddenly we had a free day off, I guess now we know why…”
“She kind of reminds me of the Skalathir that taught us all English when we got here.” Rhidi mused, tilting her head at the massive woman as she walked beside Bloodmourne, talking to him with her mouth rather close to his ear.
“Nah, she was purple.” Saffi said through a mouthful of pancakes, eating at her usual pace that matched a starving horse.
Uppil raised a furry, red brow. “I thought she was red. She was red, right?”
“Everything back then was a fucking blur.” Rhidi sighed out, taking a sip of milk and cutting into her pancakes again. “You could have given me the codes to a treasure hoard and I would have forgotten it within a few hours.”
Inthur sidled up next to Uppil and found a seat next to her, the chair giving a light groan under her particularly round, lower bulk. “Speaking of forgetting things, do you remember your meetings tomorrow, Rhidi?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Rhidi growled out, waggling her greasy fork at Inthur. “Meeting with the other Kafya outside our unit and handling issues, I’ve already been made aware.”
Inthur’s data-slate gave a buzz, and she held it up to squint at it. Uppil leaned towards it as well, then grinned.
“Ever the eventful social life, Inthur?” Uppil asked, nodding towards the amount of messages sitting and waiting to be read.
Inthur shrugged a shoulder. “I got what a lot of Humans are eager to try.”
“Easy to try when the restaurant is a drive through.” Rhidi said past her cup of milk, causing everyone in short hearing distance to splutter out with laughter.
Inthur just gave her eyes a long, slow roll. “Don’t be jealous Rhidi, you’re just lucky Morris likes them lithe and flat.”
“You’re lucky they haven’t cut your rations yet, you still barely fit in your armor.” Rhidi chastized her with a pointed finger. “If your tits or ass get any larger, they’re going to have to lock you in your damn room and force a fast out of you.”
Saffi let out a trilling giggle, and when everyone looked at her, she laughed again while picking up a slice of bacon with her fingers. “Was just thinking, you know, it’s surprising she’s still so overweight despite all the cardio she’s getting in.”
“Oh somethings getting in alright, eh?” Uppil said in a sly, sultry tone, nudging Inthur in her ribs as she looked flatly ahead while everyone laughed.
When they quieted down, she slowly turned her head to face Uppil. “I’m not fat, I’m just endowed.”
“Whatever you say, tit-zilla.” Saffi giggled out, which caused another round of choking laughter from Rhidi and anyone else who chose that time to try and swallow their food.
—
“Their morale seems rather high.” Miss La said as she and Bloodmourne left the DFAC, turning to tour the old jump towers and the newer drop pod towers. “I had never heard so much laughter before in a military installation.”
She was mostly referring to Rhidi, finding it rather odd to see the yellow furred Kafya up close after so many months of watching her through video feeds. Compared to her sister, the Kafya was a monster, and it explained why she was able to pick up her mother like a toddler.
“Oh we try and keep morale high.” Bloodmourne replied, having taken her hand in the crook of his arm to escort her. “We actually gave them today off so they can relax after so much training in their new armor.”
Miss La raised a scaled eyebrow ridge at that. “Today? Is that for some wild whim, or was it scheduled.”
Bloodmourne looked up at her deviously, his grin obvious.
Miss La let out an indulgent laugh, giving the back of his legs a light thwack with her tail. “You didn’t!”
“They’ve been working so hard, you know.” Bloodmourne said wistfully, but let out a laugh of his own when Miss La gave him a shake with her escorted hand. “You should have seen them take off when I yelled zonk, I think some of them made record times.”
“Zonk?” Miss La asked, having never encountered the word before despite her many years of study.
Bloodmourne patted her hand, something that made her smile. “It’s an old military word for ‘skedaddle’, and when shouted after morning PT everyone makes a run for it. I had convinced First Sergeant Lower to give them the day off… and he found out why back at the DFAC.”
“Oooh, like a code word.” Miss La mused, tapping at her lower lip with a finger from her free hand.
Bloodmourne nodded. “Something like that.”
As Sergeant First Class Bloodmourne walked Miss La around the old running path that ran around the ancient drop towers, he explained the history behind the towers, as well the planes that were placed in locations of honor.
Having first been made during the second World War of Earth, the two hundred and fifty foot towers had been used to train paratroopers. Carrying them skyward and then releasing a trooper with a full chute, it allowed the future Airborne trooper to know what it was going to feel like while floating down through the air.
During the war against The Pactless, the towers had been used as a sniper’s nest and artillery spotting platform, looking out over the entire base and coordinating strikes to where they needed to be. The towers themselves had been a thorn in the side of The Pactless, and the fight to bring them down had been fierce.
Despite the efforts, the towers stood, and still stood tall above the old training grounds of Fort Benning.
Bloodmourne pointed out the old aircraft that were brought out of retirement and then left to finally rest around the field once again; First was the Douglas C-47 Skytrain, the ancient workhorse still bearing the scars of laser fire and impact marks from Pactless weapons. Even though it was considered a museum artifact before The Pactless invaded, everything with wings was brought out of retirement and made functional, including the previously static C-47. Along the wings, the retrofitted M2 heavy machine guns still stood, well oiled and maintained, along with the chaff and flare pods at the rear of the craft.
Second came the Fairchild C-119 Flying Boxcar, an odd looking ship with twin booms and a large, pregnant looking fuselage. This one had also been brought back to life during the war, painted all black with “Regina’s Witches” painted along the side, scrolled below a rather interestingly painted female Human.
“Regina’s Witches?” Miss La asked, her claws coming to a light scrapping stop as she turned to look at the craft.
Bloodmourne looked around at her, then to the heavily marred aircraft; It had taken multiple strikes from Pactless anti-air weapons but still flew on, with many pieces still being wrapped with fresh aircraft tape to keep the look as accurate to the day it was parked.
“Ah, yeah, all female parachute regiment. This is the only aircraft still left after their time in the war.” Bloodmourne said, still escorting her hand and having come to a stop when she did. “They had the ‘Great Witch Hunt’ during the last stages of the war, lead an all-out assault on a Pactless stronghold. They filled the sky with so many parachutes that it threw a great shadow over the base, and they landed swinging.”
Miss La blinked at that phrase, and was making sure to stand quite close to the man. “What do you mean by that? ‘Landed swinging’?”
“When they were floating down, they were drawing any and all weapons they had.” Bloodmourne said, drawing a deep breath as he looked around the old craft. “Hundreds of women floating down, faces, arms, and legs painted. Right after they hit the ground, they used their knives or whatever have you to slice away their parachute, fighting in their harnesses like daubed demons. They created such a chaotic mess of melee that other forces were able to penetrate into the base via the ground, allowing Humanity to kill them all to the man.”
Miss La grimaced at that, as she had read a fair bit about the elder female Humans and their methods in the war. While armor was spared for the slower, heavier males, the female Humans had preferred pure speed and agility.
This manifested in female Humans wearing damn near nothing besides paint, an ancient practice, or wearing anything from gothic clothing to jean shorts and upper torso armor to cover their vital organs.
Recovered remnants of Pactless communications spoke of the horror in fighting female Humans, speaking of how the male Humans were quiet before the charge, while the females howled, hundreds of voices screeching into the air and filling them all with dread. Worst was them knowing that they were all likely widows with revenge on the mind, and would only die after their bodies lost the blood they required to keep moving.
Miss La had heard those very screams a few times in recordings from the war, and it was a dreadful thing to have in the ear. The incredible din of hundreds of voices howling with rage, remorse, loss, and longing for bloodshed could curdle the blood within the veins if listened to for too long.
A famously recorded charge was over several thousand female Humans running down a short hill towards a Pactless battleline that had formed to try and protect a ship, powering up some kind of “doomsday” weapon. Barefoot, bare breasted, and wild eyed, the female Humans wielded kitchen knives, combat blades, two handed swords, and massive spears, screeching their challenge into the air as they came down the hill in a wave.
None of The Pactless fighters had survived, nor were they ever found whole.
“They were brave women.” Bloodmourne said, slowly leading Miss La along the road. “They took heavy losses coming down into that base like that, but a good many of them survived. A lot of the wombs from the fallen created strong bloodlines that carried on their name, and they receive a letter every year to remind them where they came from.”
Miss La looked over her shoulder at the craft, as she could still smell the old blood wafting off of it. “It’s amazing that any Humans survived that war.”
“It was a close shave, and that’s putting it lightly.” Bloodmourne said, tilting his head to the side for a moment as he spoke.
The last aircraft sitting on the line were a C-130 Hercules and a C-17 Globemaster III, though there were far more of these still alive compared to the later.
“We still use things like these.” Bloodmourne said, pointing to the older aircraft. “All we did was keep producing the updated airframes but supply better engines and avionics, as well as making them space worthy. They keep them cooped up in carriers and deploy them when needed.”
Miss La smiled at the fat, round aircraft. “Is that because all your combat ships are too heavy to fly around in atmosphere?”
“Way too heavy.” Bloodmourne agreed with a laugh. “Our combat aircraft, like the Batfish and Pufferfish, are used primarily to cart around troops. The C-230s and C-17 Vs are used to haul around the heavy stuff.”
There was one aircraft that caught Miss La’s eye and she pointed to it with a sway of her tail. “What is that one, Bloodmourne?”
“You can just call me Jacob, Aum-La.” Bloodmourne said sweetly, though he spied the aircraft with an “Ah” from his throat.
“And I told you, that you can call me Lathway.” Miss La chided him playfully, giving him a soft pinch on the arm with her escorted hand.
“Aum-La is too pretty to not say.” Bloodmourne flirted, catching her with his brown eyes and a smile to match.
Miss La really liked how his brown eyes looked like pools of hot honey when the sun caught them, as well as that odd little glint he got when he was looking at her.
“Yes, well.” Miss La said gently with a light blush. “Jacob doesn’t really roll off the tongue like Bloodmourne. It’s rather romantic for a last name, if you ask me.”
Miss La could smell Bloodmourne’s blood spike with both endorphins and something else that kicked off little sections of her brain, and she quietly wished she had worn a thicker top.
Bloodmourne, trying his best to ignore the brightening headlights from Miss La, instead turned towards the old aircraft. “This is a UH-60 Black Hawk. It wasn’t really used in Airborne operations, and was instead used for air assaults. A lot of these old birds were used to death during the war against The Pactless, and only a few are still airworthy.”
“It is odd knowing that many of your aircraft use great blades to fly.” Miss La mused, taking that moment to drag more of the cape of her top around to cover her chest. “I have never really seen that concept in other races.”
Bloodmourne shrugged. “It worked and allowed us to have aircraft that could hover. After the war and working with the Drafritti, our engines are all jet turbines and thrusters. Even then, we’re always wondering if the old choppy blades of death will make a return for one reason or another.”
Miss La laughed at that, and allowed Bloodmourne to show her all the newer, more modern training facilities for drop troopers. He showed her around the units, let her view and take notes on their barracks, and then found her a place to sit to watch another unit go through their drop pod training.
While resting and listening to the screams of recruits as they dropped down in their harnesses, Bloodmourne asked Miss La about her own life.
She told him a more relaxed version of her life and history, and when her ship was mentioned, Bloodmourne desired to see it.
After driving the both of them to the pad where the ship still relaxed itself, getting a wipe down and a cleaning from some of the more bored staff, Miss La opened the door and let the both of them inside.
The forge fire was still burning, as she knew it would be, and Bloodmourne took a long while to admire the burning coals and the little arms that trickled fuel to where it needed to go.
Miss La showed him the portraits of her family, told him their names and what they did before they died, while Bloodmourne pulled up his data-slate and showed her his own family.
According to the Human, he had three brothers and three sisters, his parents still alive with extremely old grandparents, and how they all came from a state called “Missouri”.
It took a hard minute for Miss La to understand that he didn’t mean “misery”, and kept asking what about the state was so awful to gain such a name.
After showing him around the ship, they popped back out for lunch, Bloodmourne piloting his massive truck and taking her to a restaurant on base.
The place itself was located in the mall, up on a floor that was nothing but restaurants, and thankfully not many Humans were bothering her with long stares.
If anything they were quite polite, offering friendly waves of the hand or a short nod towards her as they passed.
After a bit of questioning from Bloodmourne, Miss La found herself in a steakhouse munching on buttery rolls while they cooked her steak.
Bloodmourne made her feel included in the moment as he told her stories, coaxed her to tell stories herself, and allowed Miss La to open up and feel like herself again. After they both demolished a bread basket and a plate of cheese fries, alcohol came into the equation.
Miss La was wary of Human alcohol after all the classes she had given over it, and knew it was a mild form of poison in all regards, but she drank some in the form of a mixed drink.
This turned out to be a mistake, as alcohol turned out to be a rather swell way for Miss La to forget herself and let her eyes linger on places that they really shouldn’t have.
It was after finding herself staring longingly into Bloodmourne’s eyes that her senses snapped back into place, and she had to fight to rally herself. That task was left harder to attempt when Bloodmourne began flirting in earnest, admiring her physique and how she “still looked strong in all the right places”.
The giggle that came out of her in response made it quite clear the Human alcohol within the drink had an acutely odd effect on her, but the arrival of their food bought her some recovery time.
Miss La was used to steak and liked it a fair bit, but she had never been able to enjoy fresh steak for a rather long time. As the grilled sirloin hit her tongue and the cowboy butter traced lines of bright lights across her brain, she let out a tired moan as she chewed.
At times it was easy to forget how good fresh meat tasted.
“Good right?” Bloodmourne said with an easy smile, cutting into his medium-rare ribeye. “They get this meat right off base daily, and only have to freeze it when they get too much of it.”
Miss La cut away another slice, running the meat cutting along her plate to sop up the juices before placing it into her mouth. She chewed, closing her four eyes and letting out a rumble of agreement from her throat.
Bloodmourne just chuckled, taking a bite of his own steak with a happy sigh. As he chewed, he watched her with intelligent eyes, gauging her. “I’ve been in the field enough to know the difference between good food and good food, and it’s why I tend to gain weight if I’m not careful.”
“You would look good with a little more weight on you.” Miss La said idly, then stopped chewing when Bloodmourne raised an eyebrow.
“Is that right?” He asked, his smile just as devious as it ever was.
Something told her that smile wasn’t for everyone, and wondered if anyone in the unit had ever seen it.
Miss La cleared her throat and went back to cutting at her steak, her four eyes flicking up at Bloodmourne before looking back down at her plate. “Ehm… so, how much longer are you going to stay in the Army?”
“Until I have a reason to leave it.” Bloodmourne replied, though he kept his eyes on her as he cut his steak. “I’d reckon I’d retire in it if nothing comes along to take my attentions elsewhere.”
Miss La lowered her four lids at the man as she paused the rise of her fork, halting the slice of sirloin just below her chin. “And what exactly would take your attentions elsewhere?”
Bloodmourne looked up in mock-thought, pushing out his lips as he hummed in his throat. “Hmm… well, I can think of a few things.”
“I bet you could.” Miss La murmured out in reply, smiling to herself as she cleaned her fork with her teeth.
