When Leigh and I emerged from the room for guests, we were met with strange glances from the gathered humans. Agent Timber had a sideways grin on her face, Director Ann rolled her eyes, and the two former police officers chuckled and offered me their hands for a postcoital custom they dubbed “high five.”
Leigh’s pale skin, which held a healthy pink glow after our sex, blushed even brighter at all this. She ducked her head and hid behind me. “You’re not mad, are you, Aunt Ann?”
Director Ann sighed. “No, not mad. A bit perturbed that I was in the same house when my niece lost her virginity to an alien man, but not mad.” The director’s mouth turned up in a grin matching Agent Timber’s. “And bravo to both of you. Timber here informs us that T’raat broke N’kal’s stamina record.”
John coughed. “As long as he didn’t break the bed frame, we’re good.”
I straightened my stance and squared my shoulders. “I have not damaged anything during our mati—our sex. Your furniture remains intact.”
“T’raat, baby, he wasn’t challenging you.” Leigh rested a slender hand on my arm. “He was just kidding.”
I relaxed and inclined my head towards John. “Apologies.”
“Nothing to apologize for, sir. We speak two different languages, and the fact that we can use your tech to meet in the middle is nothing short of amazing. Humans struggle with automatic translations as well, so we understand a little … misunderstanding every now and then.” He extended his hand again, this time in a manner I associated with human greetings. “No hard feelings?”
John’s words brought a smile to my face. So often my words get taken in a manner I did not intend, even on Xalan. It was nice to meet another understanding human. Along with Leigh and Agent Timber and Director Ann, it helped me to believe that I might survive a lifetime on this planet after all.
Marcus clamped a hand on my shoulder. “Well, after the, erm, morning you two had, you’d probably like something to eat. Let’s move this to the kitchen. We have plenty of sandwich makings for everyone.”
Leigh and I followed the rest of the group through the house to the cooking room. Given that Timber and Ann knew where to find it with ease and even led the crowd, I assumed that they’d already been fed while Leigh and I had bonded.
The kitchen was decorated much like the rest of the house, with a strange, humpbacked figure a common motif. I pointed to one of them and queried Marcus about it.
“That? That’s a kokopelli. It’s a depiction of a native fertility god.”
Leigh grabbed my shoulders and steered me to the table, which was absent of these depictions. “No fertility gods for you, mister. At least not for a while, okay? We discussed this.”
We did not, in fact, discuss fertility gods, but I did not press the matter.
John and Marcus opened the food box and took out an assortment of packages, laying them all out on the countertop next to an elongated bag containing a spongy, fibrous substance which had been sliced in even increments across its length.
I watched with fascination as they constructed the sandwiches. First, they laid two slices of the sponge side by side on a plate. Then they queried Leigh and myself on our preferred con-di-ments. Leigh answered for us both, opting for two substances, white and yellow. John spread the substances across one surface of each piece of sponge before asking next what protein we would prefer. Leigh’s selection, turkey, looked nothing like the image from my nanites. The fat, grotesque fowl had plenty of meat on it, though, so perhaps it was butchered much like Harrison butchered his cattle.
Tomatoes, lettuce, cheese … I only knew a few of these things, but I trusted my mate to make a good selection. When she finished choosing our ingredients, which had all been piled neatly atop one slice of sponge, John placed the second sponge condiment-down on the pinnacle of the stack.
I waited for the stove to be activated, or perhaps the oven, but neither was used.
Marcus carried our plates to us and set them on the table. I watched as Leigh picked the sand-wich up and took a bite.
“We are not to cook these?” I asked.
Leigh shook her head as she chewed. She covered her mouth with one hand and pointed to my food with the other. “It’s safe, baby. Everything that needs it has already been cooked. The bread and meat are fine, and the veggies are safe to eat raw.”
“And there is none of the forbidden cane sugar in this, correct?”
Timber, who had been taking a sip of a pungent beverage at that moment, spat out her drink at my mention of the sugar. “Leigh, please tell me you haven’t fed him sugar.”
“No, Timber. What does it do to Xalanites, anyway?”
Timber coughed as her face turned red. “Let’s just say that you don’t want to feed him any of that stuff unless you have azi’inon hand.”
What food could possibly require the presence of azi’in? The notion intrigued me.
Since neither Timber nor Ann would elaborate, I abandoned my curiosity in favor of the food in front of me. I followed Leigh’s lead and lifted the pile of ingredients to my mouth.
By the Xalanite gods! My eyebrows shot up as a cascade of flavors assaulted my tongue. Somehow, despite having a multitude of different food groups, everything worked well together. The harmony in the flavors surprised me, and I did not speak again until I had finished devouring the handheld meal.
“That was excellent!” I exclaimed. “My compliments, John.”
