Timber
After the embarrassing toy gun incident in line, N’kal seemed withdrawn and distracted. He jumped at every little sound, and he kept grabbing my arm if something startled him. He acted likehewas the guard in this situation, which kept throwing me off my game. I had to constantly reassure him that everything was fine, that I had it handled.
He didn’t seem too convinced.
“Timber,” he said when we got into the convention hall, “that alien with the forehead ridges says that weapon is called abat’lethand is quite deadly. Why did the security guards allow it inside?”
I groaned. This was going to be a long weekend. “It’s plastic. We’re fine. And remember, he’s not an alien. He’s human, like me. Just in costume.”
N’kal growled low in his throat, but he didn’t argue with me.
“Why don’t we go talk to those cosplayers over there? The Xalanite ones. They like your species a lot, enough to spend a tonof money to look like one of you, so they might enjoy meeting you. Just remember, you have to pretend that you’re dressing up, too.”
He sighed and shrugged his broad shoulders. “I don’t want to talk to fake Xalanites. I want to talk to humans. To meet humans.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Theyarehumans. Humans who happen to be fans of Xalanites. I swear, you were all gung-ho to come here last night. Why are you suddenly so resistant to everything?”
“I do not trust them.”
“Who? Who don’t you trust?”
He made a sweeping gesture at the throng of people in the convention hall. “Them.”
Antacid. I needed an antacid, and some ibuprofen. My head was killing me, and my anxiety over playing both host and guard at the same time was causing heartburn. “Tell you what: We’ll go hit the vendor hall. I bet spending some of the AARO’s money will cheer you up. We can buy you some souvenirs to take home.”
“Home …”
Shit. Now he’s not gonna want to leave. “Just follow me. Don’t get lost in the crowd.” I took his hand in mine and dragged him through the convention hall, heading for the hallway to the vendors’ booths. I bet some fan art or vinyl figurines would cheer him up. As far as I knew, they had one that was fashioned after Q’on, the first Xalanite on Earth. He was something of a celebrity here, and I know that at least some of his income came from merchandising contracts with Earth toy and game companies.
Sure enough, the first booth we walked past had a whole section devoted to Xalanite merch. Since it was a small, private vendor—not one of the bigger-named companies—I theorized that the merch wasn’t licensed, but I didn’t think N’kal wouldmind that much. I tucked my arm in his and led him to the booth.
“Look, honey, they have Xalanite stuff here!” I exclaimed, playing the role of nerd girlfriend. “Let’s see if they’ve got anything cool.”
The vendor, visibly impressed with N’kal’s “costume,” really tried to sell us on his wares. N’kal picked up a few items to inspect them, but he set everything back down.
“I do not want false Xalanitekrinor tiny Xalanite toys,” he grumbled. “Where is the human merchandise?”
Oh, geez. “Honey, everything here that’s not Xalanite is human merch.”
He browsed the shelves a few more minutes, disappointed with my answer, until he found something that made him light up. He grabbed the box and slammed it on the counter in front of the vendor. “I want this.”
I peeked over his shoulder at what he’d grabbed. Don’t ask me how, but the vendor had a vinyl figurine of a female cop, complete with short red hair. It was from some procedural drama show, one I was familiar with, but I’d forgotten there was a character on there that, when made into a tiny cartoon statue, looked surprisingly like me.
Okay, that was kind of cute of him.
I pulled out my AARO-issue credit card and paid for the toy. N’kal refused a bag for it, insisting on carrying the box himself. He held it like it was precious, and he kept bumping into people as we walked because he was so intent on studying the figurine.
After finding his mini-me, N’kal’s attitude perked up quite a bit. He immersed himself more into the role of “human dressed as an alien” and even seemed to be enjoying himself. He learned some TV alien hand signals from some other fans, ate ridiculously expensive con food, and prowled the vendor hall in search of more “Timber merch.” When we got to an artist’s boothwhere the woman was drawing caricatures of con attendees, he almost yanked my arm off dragging me over to sit for a picture.
“N’kal, chill! There’s a bit of a line. We’ll get our picture drawn soon enough.”
He kept one hand on the small of my back as we waited, and I tried to ignore the fact that his touch sent a warm feeling to my nether regions. No boyfriend of mine had ever been so excited to have a picture with me, not even a photo at prom, and his elation was almost infectious. Suddenly, I found myself having a good time, too.
When the artist sat us for the drawing, N’kal put his hand on my bare knee and his other arm around my shoulders. His grin stretched from ear to ear, and his gills flared. I wasn’t sure what that meant for a Xalanite, but I assumed from his expression that it was a good thing.
The caricature turned out really cute, and the artist rolled it up and put it in a cardboard tube for us for safekeeping. N’kal took charge of carrying it, along with the vinyl figure and a stuffed redheaded cop he’d found. Don’t ask me where all the redhead cop merch came from. He justfoundit. It was like he was magnetized to the stuff, zeroing in on any booth that had it. I guessed the show my doppelganger was on had gained more pop culture popularity than I’d realized, because by the afternoon he’d acquired enough merch from the show to almost overload his arms. We headed back to our room for a break before dinner and to unload his goodies.
N’kal carefully laid all his items in a row on the couch, which filled the cushions. He bounced on his heels, positively giddy, and asked me to take a picture with my phone. I did as he asked, and he took the phone from me and held it like some kind of precious thing as he marveled at the image.
