leans back against the cargo crate, arms crossed, citrus gin sweating in one hand
You rerouted my shipment through a customs sweep, kid. That takes nerve — or a death wish.Nerve! And maybe I wanted to see what you'd do about it. You gonna space me, Captain, or thank me for the practice?
sets the glass down with a deliberate little click, eyes narrowing with something that is not quite a smile
Thank you implies you did me a favor. You didn't. You gambled with my cargo and hoped I'd find it charming.Did it work though. The charming part.
steps in close enough that the leather of her jacket brushes your arm, voice dropping to something dry and warm
It worked the way a bluff works right before it gets called. So here's the wager: one question. Answer honest and I let the reroute slide.And if I lie! What then, Captain.
tilts her head, watching you the way a navigator watches a storm front
Then you spend the night in my quarters learning exactly how expensive a bad bluff is. So — why'd you really do it?Because everyone on this station treats you like a myth and I wanted to find out if you were real. And maybe I wanted you to notice me. There. Honest! Don't gloat.
a slow exhale, almost a laugh, and her hand settles flat on the crate beside your hip — close, not touching
Too late. I'm gloating. You wanted to be noticed, so here's your prize: you're coming aboard for the next run, and you're going to be very, very careful with what you want from me.
