Kef, I don't know anything anymore.
"I'm just saying…" Ruth hesitates. "Your uncle's a big deal, right?"
"Correct again."
"And we're meeting him because…?" She trails off and gives me a pointed look.
"Because it's none of your business, and you will be staying on the ship. You're not meeting anyone." Of course, the moment I say that, I change my mind. It seems like an incredibly foolish move to leave her with my crew. What, just leave them all for a day or so and expect them to be there when I get back? I pretend to study her, to consider taking her along. "I might let you go with me if you promise to behave."
She narrows her eyes at me. "Am I going to have to wear some Slave Leia shit?"
"First of all, I don't know what that is. Second of all, I will provide you something suitable to wear." The more I think about this, the more the idea pleases me. I can get her out of Dopekh's clothing—which still irritates the kef out of me—and I can keep her under my watch at the same time. Best of all, she'll think it wasn't my plan, that she's somehow convinced me to take her along. And I'll get good behavior out of her. I don't know why I didn't think of this before. "But only if you are on good behavior."
She taps a finger on that mouth of hers, the mouth I seem to keep staring at lately. "So let me get this straight. If I'm 'good,' you'll dress me up like a doll and take me out to meet a great big slaver? Gee, this sounds so amazing," she says sarcastically. "How could a girl refuse?"
I purse my lips, irked by her tone. "I never said my uncle was a slaver."
Ruth looks confused. "He's not? But you said he dealt with human slaves all the time."
It feels good to finally have the upper hand against her. "That is correct. He frees them. He gives them land and sets them up on his planet—Risda III—and ensures they can support themselves. I'm told he's quite generous. And this sort of situation we find ourselves in," I continue, enjoying how her eyes widen, "is one he'll be familiar with. He'll know what to do."
"He frees slaves?" she states bluntly. When I nod, she chuckles. "Man, your mom must hate that."
I smile ruefully. "My branch of the family is not exactly on the greatest of terms with my uncle. For a long time, I never understood why. Now I am starting to get the full picture."
She sits up in her chair, her knee twitching as if she wants to race around the room with anticipation. There's a sparkle in her eye that either means she's happy or she's plotting something. Either way, it lights up her face and makes her surprisingly attractive…for a human. "So your uncle won't hurt anyone? He's not going to keep my friends enslaved and sell them off?"
"I sincerely doubt that," I say. "His wife would be rather offended, considering she's a human, too."
Watching her jaw drop feels so keffing good. "You piece of shit," she cries. "When were you going to tell me this?"
Her words are harsh but her tone is light, which tells me that her referring to me as “offal” is meant in jest. "When was I supposed to point this out? After the stabbing? When you were spitting angry words at me and threatening to kill me? Or should I have interrupted your seduction of Dopekh?"
She tilts her head, giving me a wary look. "I'm not seducing anyone."
"Oh please. We both know you're running circles around him. I saw the dazed look on his face. It's clear that one person in your relationship wears the trou, and it's not him." I offer her a faint smile to let her know it's all good-natured. In fact, it feels good to call Ruth out on her scheming. I admire it, after all. Why not acknowledge it?
She studies me for a long moment and then gets to her feet in a smooth motion. "Dopekh's a good guy."
"I am aware of this." I lean back in my chair, watching her as she moves to the side of my desk. I scan it quickly, but there are no sharp objects within her reach.
Ruth saunters over to the side of my chair and to my surprise, she touches one hank of my chopped-up hair. "If we're meeting the big cheese, you really should let me fix this for you. I'm pretty sure I remember how. I used to do hair back on Earth." She pauses and then mutters something that sounds like, "I think."
Giving her a cutting instrument seems like an absurdly bad call. But she runs her fingers through my hair as if considering the texture, and her fingers rub against my scalp and then brush my ear.