“AndIthink that someone who understands human women could be invaluable in helping with this task. Would it have even occurred to you to engage the women to help? We’re more than just walking wombs,” I snarl. “Plus, keeping everyone busy will keep them from worrying themselves to death. Give them something to focus on.”
“No one thinks you are just walking wombs. Let me talk to Liaison Simson and see what she says,” L’Corte says with a put-upon sigh, looking a little sheepish.
“How ‘bout I talk to Rosie, and you just get us the list of jobs?” I demand.
L’Corte
The angerand annoyance wafting from Trinh make me want to rub my nose to dispel the scent. It is overpowering her naturally sweet scent. I am so in-tune with her scent now I can sometimes pick up traces of it hours after she’s left a room. Right now, however, it has been overpowered by the hot smell of burning anger. I stepped in it this time with Trinh. She spreads herself too thin, trying to help everyone all the time with no thought for her own time and needs. I am a fool for trying to tell her what she should do with her time.
“I will send a message out to each department to see where they’ll be short-staffed and forward that list to you and Rosie. If you are determined to do this, you need to work with her,” I say, laying out a reasonable argument.
“Fine. That works. Was that so hard?” Trinh says with a defiant tilt to her chin.
I roll my eyes at her, a very human gesture I have found encompasses many moods.
“I could say the same to you,” I argue.
“How’s the stick?” Trinh asks suddenly.
“Stick? What stick?”
“It’s pretty far up there, huh?”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, frustrated.
Rather than respond, she smiles and walks away. I’m relatively certain that I have just been insulted. I just don’t know how.
Chapter 7
Trinh
I’m waiting for the replicator to finish making my skinny almond milk vanilla latte with an extra shot when something nudges my ankle.
“Move bitch. Get out the way –”
“That. Is. It,” I bellow. “I’ve had enough!” I snatch up the bucket-shaped robot and glare at its innocent metal face. Marching out of the kitchen with the obnoxious cleaning bot tucked under my arm, I head to L’Zaen’s quarters with the little menace singing the whole way. When I get to his door, I push the doorbell with a firm press. A moment later, the door opens with a sleep-tousled Ally looking concerned. I thrust the robot into her arms.
“Fix this thing, or I’m gonna murder it,” I demand.
“Move, bitch. Get out the way, bitch. Get out the way,” sings the tinny robotic voice.
Ally giggles and shakes the little robot in her arms. “Is mean ol’ Trinh picking on you? You poor thing. I thought she liked Ludacris.”
“Move, bitch. Get out the way, bitch. Get out the way.”
“Okay, I can see how this could get old. I’ll fix it,” Ally promises, still giggling under her breath.
L’Zaen comes wandering out of the bedroom in only a pair of loose pants that are barely hanging onto his hips. He looks as sleep-tousled as his mate.
“Ack! My eyes! My virgin eyes. Oh, how they burn,” I tease, slapping my hands over my face, leaving plenty of room between my fingers to see L’Zaen’s nice row of abs.
Ally starts giggling, which makes me grin even wider. I waggle my eyebrows at her and give her a big thumbs up.
Nice,I mouth at her.
I know, right?Ally mouths back.
“Okay, I gotta go. Thanks for fixing that stupid machine. From now on, if Chelsea makes a suggestion, you should tell her no. She’s nothin’ but trouble.”
