"T-talk to them!?"
Smile. Nod. "I'm sure they're nice people. Bet they'd prefer a good conversation all day long over fighting."
Knives exhaled in stunned disgust. "Fool…"
"Knives, let me go," Meryl said, tugging against his hand on her shoulder. He ignored her with practiced perfection.
Vash took a step to retrieve Milly, but looked torn between defending her and retrieving her. He could hardly do both with so many weapons pointed at them. Both he and Knives were scanning the crowd left to right with frantic, all-observing eyes.
Meryl held her breath as Milly approached the men with a smile on her face and her hands in the air. The seconds ticked on as she trudged up the dune, her ponytail flopping about her shoulders with girlish exuberance. She succeeded in getting within yards of them, and Meryl prayed.
Please don't hurt her, please don't hurt her, please don't hurt her…
She finally stopped, waved again and bowed politely. Then her hands began to move expressively as she spoke.
"What's she saying?" Vash asked.
Knives shook his head, and Meryl fared no better. The woman was out of earshot. The three watched in nervous observation as Milly proceeded to do things her way. By being polite. Sincere. Friendly. A couple guns lowered, while wary eyes studied her behind suspicious expressions.
What was a lone woman doing facing off with a horde of angry men, anyways?
"I…I think they're listening to her," Meryl said in hopeful awe. "I think she's disarming them." Knives' grip lessened as intermittent comments from the crowd interspersed Milly's speech…something noted by feint echoes of their voices on the wind, and communicative gestures.
Vash's agitation proved too much for him. "I'm going up there with her."
"No!" Meryl shouted. "She's on a razor's edge, Vash. If those men so much as see you move…" Sweat was beading down his face, and Meryl's own hands were trembling. Dammit, Milly. I hope you know what you're doing…
Knives flinched, as all heads swiveled in the direction of the oasis. Milly was gesturing there. The angels staggered in the fields shifted nervously, eyeing each other and the militia with a cocktail of fearful curiosity.
The tension increased, and Knives' fingers dug into Meryl's shoulder reflexively, but Meryl reached up and grabbed his wrist. "Stay, boy."
Then Milly surprised them all again, by turning around as though nothing were out of the ordinary, cupped her hands to her mouth and called out to the desert crawler behind them.
"Bejya!!" she shouted. "Bejya! Can you come here a sec?"
Vash gasped, and Knives hissed. A mostly white-haired angel ambled out of the vehicle in a blue jumpsuit, blinking large black eyes up at her human friend. Milly smiled and motioned for her to approach.
"Can you bring one of them here?" Milly asked, her voice cutting through the wind. "One of the angels from Little Chicago?"
"Oh hell no," Knives seethed, little bursts of feathers erupting from his angel arm.
Meryl's breath caught, and she quickly grabbed his hand in both of hers. If Knives transformed before their eyes, good heavens. It would be all over. "Wait! Just wait…" she whispered, having nothing to go on but a gut feeling that they just might be better off trusting her comrade, as absurd as the situation was. He was trembling, and she tugged on his hand until he looked at her. "Milly would never put any one of them in danger."
Knives snarled, and shook his head warningly at Bejya. Then Bejya looked at Meryl, who countered his opposition with a nod. The angel disappeared back into the vehicle and emerged a few moments later hoisting up one of her newly liberated sisters.
Vash grunted, and Knives growled. To let the angels walk right into enemy hands…it went against every fiber of their protective nature. And it took Meryl every ounce of faith she had to keep from having the same reaction. "Remember, most of these men had no idea a sentient being was inside those bulbs!" She said, trying to convince herself as much as anyone. "Maybe they'll see things differently…"
"It's okay!" Milly called out. "They won't hurt you!"
Bejya smiled tentatively and ambled forward, helping her sister along. The new angel was clothed in a hastily thrown blanket, the which was tugged and whipped by the wind. She looked pitiful. Helpless. But maybe that's what Milly was going for.
Who knew?
"Dammit, that's far enough, Bejya!" Knives called out when they'd come within several yards of Milly, and then under his breath. "This is madness. Your friend has lost her mind!" He was unbelievably tense, radiating so much stress and animosity, that Meryl's already weakened state was given to a bout of dizziness.
"Knives," she half turned and leaned on him. Half for support, and half to try and calm him. "They'll feed off your aggression before they'll see Milly as a threat. You need to calm down."
He graced her with nothing more than a highly irritated glance, and then fixed his attention right back up on that hill, no doubt singling out the first people he'd off if something went wrong. Bejya came to a limping stop with her sister wearily leaning against her. Milly looked so calm, Meryl began to wonder if she really had lost it. The conversation continued, and as it did, Vash began to relax. But not Knives.
Never Knives.
More weapons lowered. On cue from Milly, Bejya said a few stammering words, and lifted her free hand up to hold out the long obsidian locks of her sister's charcoalized hair. The liberated angel raised her head and looked at the militia of the city she'd helped generate.
Does she recognize any of them? Meryl wondered. And more importantly. Do any of them recognize her?
So much could have gone wrong. The men could have been frightened by the angel's inhuman features; the teeth that poked horizontally from the corners of their lips, the lashless, oil-black eyes, or tall awkward frame… They could have lashed out in fear. They could have convinced themselves the angels deserved to be enslaved. Like animals. They could have sought to kill them, or steal them back.
They could have, could have could have…
But they didn't.
Meryl wasn't sure how she did it. Had she known the exact words Milly used, she wouldn't have been able to duplicate it. But what must have been close to two hours later…120 minutes of Knives' tension stretched to the point of snapping…
A hundred men dropped their weapons, and returned the way they'd come.
"I…I don't believe it," Vash uttered as the line of bodies atop the dune slowly, some regretfully, disappeared off the opposite side. "Did she…? Did they just…?"
"I…think so," Meryl dared to whisper, trying to quell the rising cheer. Jumping up and hollering with glee would have earned her more disdain from Knives today than she felt like dealing with. "They left. They left of their own merits," ah what the hell. She turned and jabbed her finger in Knives' chest. "Without the benefit of being strong-armed nor brainwashed, thank you very much!"
Knives blinked down at her, and it took a moment for his shocked expression to weigh back down into his usual detached annoyance. When it did, he hmph'd and stormed off without further comment.
Vash laughed in shocked relief, tossing one arm companionably around Meryl's shoulders. She hugged him back. A reverent silence fell as they both looked at the remarkable woman who had just disarmed a hundred man army without lifting a single finger. Vash shook his head in admiration. "She's somethin' else, that Milly."
And Milly did what she always did from up on that dune, having single-handedly overcome one of the greatest obstacles they'd faced yet.
She smiled. And waved.
A stray but elated tear rolled down Meryl's cheek, and she waved enthusiastically back, more proud of Milly than she'd ever been. "Yeah, she is. She really is."
.
.
They stayed the extra day, and finished up the oasis without further incident. Some of the angels remained nostalgic, seeing so many humans at once, and Vash quickly promised them that when the last angel was freed, they could start tracking down old friendly faces from the towns they'd protected.
Milly went back to work systematically as though she'd done nothing out of the ordinary. But it was the general consensus - by everyone but Knives, naturally - that she was the unquestioned forerunner in the hero contest.
The sandstorm came, but by the time it hit the oasis was fortified enough to sustain the beating. Meryl suggested that they take the crew of angels from Little Chicago and head back to Eden, but Knives rejected the idea right away. He wasn't about to leave any of the flock, fearing the men would return.
So…they camped out for a day, watching Vash's team finish their work. Many of the angels stayed inside the vehicle to tie up the healing, while Knives went around inspecting the health of both crews, and correcting mistakes. Meryl had no place in oasis-building, and merely sat under the shade of a palm tree in the moist soil, while sipping the milk out of a coconut.
Ah. Finally…
It was a moment's peace. A breather. The first in a long, long time. Since they'd started this project, two years ago, she'd barely had time to think about herself. Let alone, fret over her feelings for a certain someone…
Vash was hopping around, patting backs and grinning encouragement at his team, dropping on all fours occasionally to add another bush, or citrus tree. Not exactly organized, but as charismatic as ever. She grew wistful, seeing the youthful glint in his eye, and his constant upbeat energy. Still so adorable. His age would never taint his youthful spirit.
The ponderings came without permission, and with little warning. It had been so long, after all. She and Vash had never had "that" conversation, now that she thought about it…the one she'd archived for later. Swallowed up in her work of liberating the angels, it suddenly didn't seem as important. Looking back, she considered that Vash really did love her. Hell. She felt it radiate off him every time he saw her. The way his face lit up. The bounce in his step. His irrational, and sometimes tedious concern over her well-being.
It was undeniable.
Meryl sighed ruefully. When did it happen, exactly? Somewhere along the line, she'd subconsciously become secure with his feelings for her...
Even though there were never any awkward moments of stammering speech between them, no lingering touches, no misinterpreted smiles… While she might very well be the most important girl to him on the planet, there was still a big difference between love and being in love.
Am I okay with that? she wondered. Am I still in love with you?
It's not like she'd had much time to dwell on it, thanks to his brother. As a matter of fact, Knives was pretty much the sole reason why she was coping well at all. The guy was so high maintenance, he dominated most of her thoughts and actions these past couple years.
"High maintenance, eh?" Came the husky overworked voice. Meryl threw up mental guards a second too late, and turned to scowl at Knives as he came up from behind and leaned against her tree. He had unzipped the top of his ornate, heavily-buckled jacket because of the heat, no doubt, leaving it to hang low about his waist. His muscled biceps and forearms glistened with sweat, his short spiky hair sagged with it, and his black undershirt was damp with it. It wasn't until he looked down and smirked that she realized she'd been staring. Meryl forced herself to look away with a mental thwap. He'd made a comment, hadn't he?
"Very," she said.
"You were broadcasting."
"And you were being nosy."
"Hm." After a moment, he plunked down next to her, brushing shoulders, with his legs drawn up and his elbows resting on his knees. Their relationship had evolved to the point where it was no longer taboo to invade each other's personal space, which left her ill-prepared for the abrupt effect his proximity caused this time around. Maybe it's because she'd been so relaxed for once. Regardless…
The guy really was a hunk.
A moment's silence passed, and she felt Knives shift from mildly amused to…content? She had to do a double take. Good heavens, is he actually happy?
His youthful face relaxed as he watched the angels. The hard edge to his ice blue eyes softened. He looked pleased. And when he wasn't trying to be threatening, Meryl found herself mesmerized by his features.
"What are you thinking?" she couldn't help but to ask. She half expected him to put up his barriers. But he didn't.
"Look at them, Meryl. Look at how well they work together, in sync. In harmony. Nourishing this planet instead of depleting it. It's a beautiful sight, isn't it?"
Another indirect jab at mankind, but this time Meryl didn't mind. Granted, Vash had told her about the fights between angels. About the careless over-plucking of crops and flowers. But she wasn't about to burst Knives' bubble. It wasn't often when he seemed content. "They are amazing to watch," she agreed.
He pondered silently. One corner of his mouth lifted just a smidgen as wistful eyes observed the fruits of all his labors. All his dreams. "They're happy with their freedom. I knew they would be."
"Of course they're happy," Meryl replied softly. "I have no regrets."
"Hn."
She closed her eyes as one of the angels began to hum. Ah, the music. That had to be one of her favorite parts in all this. The plant angels weren't quick with speech, but song seemed to be a natural inclination. As natural as growing things with their bare hands.
Chords quickly evolved as voices joined in, and a single, ethereal soprano danced over the altos below her, followed by a soft percussion created by rhythmic stomping and hands slapping thighs.
Meryl leaned her head back until it rested against the tree, absorbing it all. "Their music is so powerful. So beautiful. I don't know how anyone could not be mesmerized by it."
"It's the alternative outlet to being a living battery," Knives commented. "And the discoveries they've made in each others' company have been very…productive."
Meryl had to stifle a chuckle. Honestly. Sometimes he gloated a little too much. "Just like a family should be," she said. Paused, and then bumped his arm with her shoulder. Credit was also due elsewhere this day, and just maybe he was receptive enough to acknowledge mankind's better nature, now. Meryl probably shouldn't have gotten her hopes up so high, but she couldn't help it.
He's got to open his mind now…
"When those men left today, after hearing Milly's words, part of me wondered if we've been going about this the hard way all along. Perhaps we could have negotiated from the beginning, instead of relying on cloak and dagger—"
"Keh. Those men left because they were afraid of us," he frowned, utterly convinced. "Don't fool yourself."
Meryl sighed heavily. Same as always. Why did I think he'd react differently? The conversation took a turn like it always did when humanity was brought up. "Afraid? Of what? All two of you?"
"They were afraid of what they didn't know. Plant angels are capable of awesome power."
"Ugh…" She rubbed her brow, a well of disappointment swallowing her hopes. "Why can't you consider that they might have left because they felt compassion? Because they couldn't bring themselves to sticking that poor angel back inside a cage?"
"You put too much faith in them."
"And you put too little!" She hung her head, frustration bringing a sting to her eyes, and constricting her throat. This had been the perfect opportunity. The perfect example of mankind's better nature. It had been a chance for him to open up his way of thinking, but the bullheaded jerk had still managed to contrive some twisted reason for it. "Dammit, Knives..." Her voice caught, and she looked away. A set of tears rolled down her cheeks, startling her and embarrassing her. She turned further so he couldn't see. Good heavens, he'd made her cry this time.
An edgy silence passed between them. She waited for him to get up and walk away like he usually did when she stopped arguing. But instead, she felt a small nudge against her shoulders and thighs as he leaned against her.
"Meryl…" his voice was almost a whisper, close to her ear, causing the hairs on her arms to raise. "You… Your contribution here won't go unrewarded."
Her heart jumped in her throat and she froze, Is he…is he trying to console me?
"When…" pause, breathe, he tried again. "When humanity meets its inevitable fate, I'll…I'll make sure you're not with them."
The cool air hit Meryl's eyes as they widened, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. He continued, the intensity of his words seeping into her skin.
"You can stay. With us."
Meryl sniffled and gawked at him. It was a twisted compliment, but a compliment nonetheless. He sure as hell wouldn't have said anything like that even a month ago. Perhaps he was making progress after all. His brow was knotted in the center. Mouth set in a serious line. He was so sincere, it was hard to give him the response he had coming.
But such ridiculous words called for nothing less than sarcasm. He couldn't damn her whole race without getting some backlash. She wiped the wetness off her cheeks with the back of her hand, irritated, flattered, and blushing all at once. "You really mean it? You'd let me, a measly human stay with you? Well, how generous. What would I be? Your pet?"
His sincere expression turned sour. He looked away. Another awkward silence passed. Meryl felt him start to get up, but she grabbed his sleeve and he grunted as she forcefully yanked him back on his rump. "You're not leaving until I can enjoy your sisters' music again."
"Pardon?"
"I can't even enjoy the songs right now because I'm so frustrated with you. So just sit, chat with me about something else until we're both as happy as we were a second ago. No use in ruining a tranquil setting with a bad mood. Alright?" She started to sip on her coconut milk again through a straw, waiting…
His heavy sigh let her know he was going to oblige. At least for a while.
"You're overly emotional today. You never cry."
She wiped the tears from her face with her sleeve. "Subject change, please."
Pause. He tugged on a blade of grass until it snapped. "So… Still pining after my brother?"
Meryl choked, spraying her drink all over the ground. A coughing fit followed. Meryl fought for air as her lungs tried to force the liquid out of her wind pipe. A tentative hand rested on her back until it subsided. She wanted to laugh, cry and strangle him all at once.
She blinked the moisture from her eyes and glared up at him. He had the audacity to look perplexed. "You asked for a subject change—"
"That's like me asking you what your plans are for procreation, you moron!"
"How's that?"
"One you, 1500 females?"
He quirked a brow.
Meryl huffed. "Awkward!"
"I'm perfectly fine discussing such things with you."
She grimaced in unease. She'd been trying to make a point that he shouldn't ask such personal questions, of all things. She didn't want to hear the mechanics of how he was going to single-handedly impregnate fifteen hundred plant angels. "You're missing my point."
He shrugged, and absently traced his finger in the dirt. "Then what do you suggest we talk about?"
She considered him. Then she considered the angels. Meryl threw her reservations to the wind. Come to think of it, she really was curious. "What are you going to do in order to proliferate your species? I mean…you haven't mentioned anything, and we're so close to finishing, and…well?"
His eyes crinkled with a half smirk, and he looked at her knowingly. "Thought so." She figured he might make a snide comment about her vested interest in Vash, but he refrained. Knives went back to tracing circles in the dirt. "Haven't you found it peculiar, that in all this time of liberating the plant angels, not once have we had an incident of attraction?"
She thought back. The angels had been known to flirt with Milly's father here and there, which was too funny for words. Made the old gentleman's day, naturally. But had she ever seen a single one of them come onto Vash? Knives? Meryl tried to remember. "Not once?"
He shook his head.
Meryl's jaw dropped. "Are you…are you sure? I mean, the angels are beautiful. Breathtaking. I've been jealous of their tall, slender physiques more than once. And…" she looked down shyly, "And you and Vash aren't exactly ugly. I can't imagine you not being…drawn to each other…"
She could feel his eyes on her then, but was far too embarrassed to meet them. It's perfectly objective to comment on his attractiveness. Given the conversation, it was a rational, necessary remark… So stop blushing, Meryl. Man, his shoulder was warm.
"There's no chemistry," he said resolutely. "Not that I see, and not that I feel." He looked pensive for a moment. "Our bodies can merge into one being. I could absorb a dozen of the angels into my body, and inherit their power. Something I doubt Vash ever realized. But as far as procreating, as traditionally defined…" he shook his head. "We'll probably have to rely on engineering."
"And…and you're not worried about this?"
He shrugged again. "I'm worried about freeing them, and protecting them. The rest will concern me when it becomes an issue."
There was something so wrong about this. Meryl tried to pinpoint it. "I just can't fathom a dual-gendered species that's not compatible with itself," she mused.
Knives twirled his finger in a weed, and tugged. He seemed reluctant, but spoke anyways. "Plant angels aren't a dual-gendered species, Meryl."
She looked at him like he was crazy, but he held her gaze. He was serious. Her face scrunched in question. She thought about the angels. She thought about Knives. And then it hit her. The plant angels were female. Vash and Knives and Tessla – God rest her soul – were genetic anomalies. Mutants, hybrids, something different. She felt she was on a thread to some great insight, and suddenly wondered about Knives' maternal parent.
Meryl leaned forward until he looked her in the eyes. "Knives. In all this time, have you come across your birth mother? You could ask her how she became…impregnated…with you and Vash, and maybe learn how to duplicate it…"
A pained look flashed across his face, and he fell silent for several seconds. She felt his distress as clearly as she saw it, and nearly regretted asking. Finally, when the silence was almost more than she could bear, Knives looked up at some distant point on the horizon, his eyes narrowed to slivers.
"No. I never found her."
.
.
TWO DAYS LATER
"What do you mean he'll never change?" Vash said as he sat down on the edge of his bed, and started buckling up his shoes. "He's come a long ways, Meryl. You just don't see it because you're with him every day."
Meryl leaned against the doorway with her arms folded. She looked at him dubiously. "I don't know…"
Finishing with one foot, Vash switched to the other. "Trust me. He's changed. I think you have far more influence over him than you realize."
"But he still preaches on about humanity's "inevitable fate" like it'll be the greatest thing in the universe. One would think that after all this time… That especially after what happened on that sand dune, he'd be a little less pig-headed."
Vash smiled regretfully and nodded. "Unfortunately, I've come to realize that there is no greater force in this world than Knives' ability to deceive himself." He stood and walked towards the door. Meryl thought he meant to leave his room, but instead, he rested his hands on her shoulders, and bowed his head until their eyes were almost level. "But that doesn't mean that his heart isn't changing."
He looked so sure. So positive. So…sneaky? Meryl frowned. "You. You're hiding something from me, Mister."
He took a step back in mock offense with a hand to his chest. "Me?"
She placed her hand on her hips expectantly. "Yes, you. C'mon. Out with it."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
She drawled out his name warningly. "Vaaaaash…."
He tried to suppress a grin as he walked over to the mirror and gelled up his post-showered hair. "It's just a suspicion, but… Ah, hell. Just be patient with Knives. That's all."
She opened her mouth to protest, but Vash cut her off by bending over and snooping through her bag. There were five angels in her room, all grooming. She'd come here to use his shower, after all. "I'm done with the bath. You can use it now. Lessee…"
"Hey! Get outta my bag!"
"Ah! The khaki pants, and black tank top. Good. You look cute in that."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Hm… What's this?" He pulled out a little plastic tube of chaptstick and eyed it quizzically. He popped off its lid, and inhaled.
"You're acting weird, Vash."
His eyelids fluttered shut, and he swooned as though it were the most heavenly scent in the world. "Ah! It smells so good! Fruity! Like…like…"
"Grapes," Meryl supplied, cocking her head in bewildered amusement. She could have sworn she saw stars sparkle in his eyes. "It's just some grape-flavored chapstick I got from Milly's sister. Honestly, you're such a goof sometimes, Vash."
His smile broadened, and he dropped it back in her bag. On his way out, he ruffled her hair, and uttered something that suspiciously sounded like a, 'He loves grapes.'
Meryl turned, and tried to catch him but he was already striding down the hall. "Hey! You can't just walk away while we're in the middle of a conversation. Vash!"
He raised his arm to the square, and waved without turning around. A blatant dismissal. Meryl huffed, grabbed her bag, and walked over to his bathroom. Shutting herself in, she leaned back against the door and laughed despite it all.
Such a kid.
.
.
Knives' gaze fixed on the hologram in front of him. The popup of the next city's topography was detailed, with 3-D dimensions, and clusters that showed its densest residencies, along with well-plotted paths that lead to the population's generators, and quick ways back out. The markings were brightly colored, easy to read. They just needed a quick simulation programmed in. A trial run.
He blinked disinterestedly. If he'd been focused, he would have finished it 45 minutes ago and would be handpicking his crew for the next raid by now. But he wasn't focused. Far from it, actually.
Knives. In all this time, have you ever come across your birth mother?
Meryl's words came haunting back. He tilted his head back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. He'd looked for the plant angel that gave birth to he and Vash. She didn't die in the Fall. I know she didn't… Knives felt his chest tighten with regret like it usually did when he reflected back on that impetuous desperate action that had cost the lives of thousands of plant angels.
To have so many perfect beings perish along with the parasitical lesser creatures that were mankind…
He bit his tongue, to redirect his thoughts back to his mother. He couldn't have killed her inadvertently. There was no way. If Conrad had survived the Fall, then she should have, too. Fate would have spared her for his sake.
But after endless years of searching, he resigned himself to accept that she'd no doubt been sucked dry by mankind. Had probably shriveled up and died in the early years from misuse.
The thought made his blood boil, and he took a calming breath. Why couldn't he shake it? This need to know…? It wasn't logical, or necessary. It seemed to go against everything he'd forced himself to become in order to survive. But despite all his self-conditioning, and all those years of self-honed bitterness, there remained some irrational, primal instinct. Of a boy who just wanted to know his mom.
"Must be pretty serious."
He startled at Meryl's voice, arms swinging down on the armrests, sitting bolt upright in his chair. There she was, standing not three feet from him, clipboard in one hand, pen in the other. She had on her khaki's and tank top; a casual ensemble he always felt suited her well. Whether it was because it belied her professional nature, or flattered her figure, he wasn't sure. He just preferred seeing her in it.
Her hair was wet, tucked behind her ears, and her face radiated with a post-shower sheen. And she was smiling with one brow arched, no doubt amused that she'd caught him off guard.
How irritating. "What's serious?" he asked, sitting back in his chair.
"Whatever it is you're thinking about."
Another internal grimace, but he forced it away. "Do I ever not think about serious things?"
She tapped her lips with her pen, and snorted. "Yeah. When it's at my expense."
He smirked. He did enjoy seeing her get ruffled.
She pushed off the panel and hovered over his chair to see the hologram, one hand on his shoulder, with the other leaning on the arm rest. She studied it. Her brow drew tight in the center. She looked back at him, and tilted her head in question.
"You haven't programmed the trial run, yet?"
A candy-sweet scent tickled his nose, and filled his lungs. It distracted all his thoughts, and his eyes were drawn to her lip-glossed, heart-shaped mouth. He searched for the source. Was it something she was chewing on?
"Knives?"
Another puff in his face. Her words carried it to him. A new fruit from the garden, maybe? His mouth watered, and he abruptly became very aware of the warm press of her hand on his shoulder blade. Something unauthorized stirred inside of him, followed by a sudden, outrageous urge to suck on her lips.
Wha…!?
"Oh…" she all but whispered in a tone of amused discovery, followed by a half-laugh that was more of an exhale than a chuckle.
His breath lodged in his throat. My guard was up. She…she couldn't have caught that… Could she have?
A tinge of red spread across her cheekbones. "So you're the one who likes grapes."
"G…grapes?" he breathed, wondering where the hell his eloquence had gone. His senses were confused. Her nearness was making his mind go blank.
She self-consciously tugged her bottom lip in between her teeth, and nodded.
His heartbeat started galloping as his gut tightened. Something significant was happening, but all he could think about was how badly he wanted to touch her.
Her blush deepened, and she leaned back and straightened, looking shyly at her blank clipboard. "I'll just, uh…heh," she ran a fidgety hand through her already combed hair, "come back after you're finished, and we'll organize a team for the next raid. Okay? Okay."
She turned and walked briskly out, leaving him with an unformed protest on his lips, wondering why he felt like they hadn't quite finished their conversation, even though nothing much was said.