I narrow my eyes at her, but lean over and scoop up the clothing, ignoring the raw creak of my prosthetics. Her jumper is soaked, the material heavy and coarse, and I hold it out to her.
She tries to take it with the flat of her arm instead of her hand, and I grab her wrist, turning her hand over. Sophie's palm is bright red, blisters forming on her soft skin. I take her other wrist in my grip, dropping the clothing, and the other hand is just as badly burned. "Sophie," I murmur, all the anger gone out of my voice. "What did you do?"
"Well." The human lets out a little huff of air. "I was trying to help out, and I touched the pipe. I didn't realize it was so hot." She frowns down at her hands. "They didn't hurt until I looked at them just now."
"And now?"
She swallows hard and her soft mouth flattens just a little. "It's fine," she whispers. "It's just blisters. They'll go away in a few days."
It is not just fine.
Sophie is hurt, and she needs someone to look after her. I put a hand on her shoulder, trying not to notice how soft and smooth her bare skin is. "Come with me. I will patch you up."
"It's not necessary—"
"I did not ask for your opinion. I said to come with me."30SOPHIEJerrok sounds irritated with me, but his touch is incredibly gentle as he leads me out of the terrarium and down the hall. My feet are wet and muddy, and I inwardly cringe at the filthy smears I'm leaving on the newly washed floors. It's slippery without my shoes, and when I nearly lose my balance, Jerrok pauses, puts his arm under my knees, and then bridal-carries me back to his workshop. He won't look at me, though, and I suspect it's because I'm all wet and practically naked. I noticed his gaze move over my boobs earlier and then he got flustered and didn't look at me again until he found out about my hands.
I'm probably violating some sort of mesakkah hygiene law by dripping water all over the place, and I feel terrible. Poor Jerrok didn't want me here, and now I'm just making everything worse.
"I'm sorry." My hands throb in time with my pulse and they feel like they're on fire more with every second that passes. It's my own stupid fault, though, so there's nothing to be done about it. "Just give me a few to get my head together and I'll get out of your hair."
Jerrok gives me an odd look and carries me over to his work bench. He looks down at the junk covering the table, and then his tail moves up to the surface and pushes aside everything, knocking it to the floor. With a satisfied grunt, the alien man sets me atop the surface very, very gently. "Wait here. I'll get some towels."
I shiver, my nipples hard as diamonds against the thin, wet material of my undershirt. Sleipnir wanders in, snagging a part from the floor and slinking back off with it again, and the sight of that almost makes me smile through my pain. When Jerrok returns, I tilt my head toward the carinoux, who's abandoning me. "Doesn't look like he's too worried about me for a guard cat."
"He knows you're safe with me," Jerrok says, and tucks a towel around my shoulders, pulling it over my chest like a warm cape. "Give me your hands."
"They're just blisters," I protest again, and earn a sharp look from him. "Okay, fine." I flip my hands over slowly, resting the backs of my hands against my bare knees. I've been holding my hands carefully away from my body so I won't touch them, and I'm trying not to think about how I'm going to get through the next few days. I can't touch anything. I can't help Jerrok, I can't read my book…anything. Ugh.
Jerrok peers at my hands, then moves to the side and picks up his goggles and slips them over his ears. His face is masked as they whir and buzz with gears, and I realize this is the first time he's worn them in a while. It reminds me of the first time I saw him, when he was so filthy he didn't even look mesakkah, his skin a filthy in-between shade instead of deep blue. As I watch him—so I don't have to look at my awful, blistered-up hands—I notice that he's been keeping clean. His clothes are fresh, not the dirty rags he wore before, and his hair is tangled but clean.
Is that for me, I wonder?
"You've burned them pretty badly," he points out.
"I know. Give me a few days and it'll go away…unless you've got a med-bay here on the station?"