He strolled past her, carrying…
Was that a bird?
She glanced back outside as he pranced through the apartment with his prize to the kitchen.
There was no sign of Phil out there, but she hadn’t seen him before when she was outside, so who was to say that he wasn’t still out there somewhere?
She shut the door, bolted it shut and pulled the drapes closed.
She rested against the door as Mr. F picked and poked at his kill.
Not a bird this time. But it was something that was once alive. There was blood.
And it twitched.
“Shit,” she muttered and darted over to see what mess he’d brought her today.
Of course, Mister Fluffikins took off with the prize.
“Mr. F, get back here!”
Great.
Just perfect.
1
“Huh,” the foreman said. He snorted and glared at Karuk. A thick, round nose that looked wet dominated the foreman’s face.
Snot dripped from the tip.
Eyes that judged him. Thoughts that were equalling judging.
Karuk didn't like the way he was staring at him, or the stereotypical thoughts running through the foreman's head as he took in Karuk.
Karuk remained motionless, waiting to hear what the foreman decided. Was he here to stay, or was he back on the ship, off to another world and another job?
The foreman looked back at the data card, then back at him. He rested his meaty thumbprint on the seal.
Karuk didn’t exhale, but inside tensions released.
“Get fitted for your suits. You’ll be doing hull repairs.”
Karuk nodded.
Turned and walked away.
As he did, he could hear the foreman talk to another manager. “I’ll bet you a thousand credits the pretty boy won’t last a week.”
“I give him a month,” the other male said. “He won’t make any longer than that. Pretty boys don’t do labor jobs. Not with gold like that all over him.”
If they only knew, Karuk thought. Being known as a galactic ‘pretty boy’ because of his genetics didn’t actually mean he had grown up in a life of ease. The Dalgurians had a reputation of looks, but life didn’t always favor that. Many believed their appearance, with the gold flecks in the skin—marks of achievement in their culture—showed some kind of wealth.
Others considered them monsters of the worst kind because of their other abilities. The ones that let them know what those around them were thinking or feeling had made them a kind of monster among all humanoids.
No one liked their inner most thoughts revealed.
But what many didn't realize was that the Dalgurians didn't want to hear those thoughts and feel those emotions, either. It took years of practice and focus to block the noise. And some permanent hardware.
