“There’s no need for you to fear me.”
“I will try.”
Those words gave me a hope I had never allowed myself before this exact moment. I pushed on my inner fire, hoping the mantra had changed. It had not. While trapping him in the lift had been juvenile, the action had led to my gaining ground in the battle for his affection. I had reason to believe this would work out, and this time together solidified it in my mind.
“What do you like to do in your off time?” I asked.
He chuckled.
“What?” I asked.
Wyn shook his head, his light pink braid falling over his shoulder. “That seemed like a courtship question.”
It was. I merely smiled.
“I like to do many things. I like to eat at different vendors. I like story experiences. I like spending time with Seth, Urgg, and Edith. I work on my own research, namely with Edith.” He lifted his palms. “I enjoy many activities. You?”
“I explore.”
“Explore?”
“You must have seen my collection of objects,” I said, wondering if he’d noticed the stylus that was right behind my chair.
“I did.”
“When we go somewhere new, I explore the planet. I like to find out what different people value or observe different religious practices. I find people fascinating. I spend much of the time simply watching.”
“I can understand that. It fits with your soul type.”
“I suppose it does,” I said.
“You do nothing else?”
“Of course I do. I read. I play experiences. Romance stories are my favorite. I enjoy plays. I also enjoy fighting demonstrations.”
“Watching or participating?” he asked, eyes running over my form.
I flexed, practically preening like Serlotminden. I couldn’t help it. I liked the warm look he was giving me. It was lighting a fire inside of me. “Both.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“It should not. I have taught you often enough.”
Wyn hugged his knees.
What had I said wrong, for it was something. “Should I apologize?”
“No.” Wyn closed his eyes and took a deep breath before looking at me again, gaze bleak. “I’m not getting better at blasters.”
The hopelessness drew me in. I scooted across the floor until I was right in front of him, practically touching him. “You are.” And he was. It was slow, but the progress was there.
“No, I’m not, Monqilcolnen.”
Unable to resist, I laid a hand on his knee, and Wyn drew in a sharp breath but didn’t try to move away. In fact, his tail coiled about my wrist to keep me where I was.
“You are,” I told him, my voice thick. “I see it, Wyn. I have seen it.”
“Not fast enough.”
