Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

I'm replacing Vacca with Vaako, as I've been informed of the correct spelling. TY!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Inhibitions

Zemma bussed the table and pushed the rollaway out the door. Riddick poured himself something amber in a glass.

"Are you old enough to drink now, Zemma Enan W'neta?" Riddick's voice had what she had come to think of as his challenge tone to it. But she was starting to realize he just always talked that way. He challenged everything, and usually won. She remembered thinking when she first met him how nice it would be to have that much confidence.

"Yes, I think I am," she replied. He pulled down another glass. "Do you have a preference for another scene?" She asked. He just shook his head. "Scene. Index," she called and luminescent words popped up on the walls. "Starscape, Nebulae, Planetary, Planets…"

"Whatever you prefer," he said.

She preferred her personal scene of Fury but she hadn't been able to watch it since that first day, when she realized she would never be able to step foot on any planet vaguely resembling it.

"Scene. Random cycle."

Mecca popped up first. Zemma blanched and her stomach flipped over… The 'Mongers collected scenes as well as computer data, animals and raw materials during their invasions. Mecca was last and so top of the list. The room was brightened by a view of the clear blue sky, even overhead, and a sea of sand in gold and sepias, with a distant green sea in the background. Zemma closed her eyes. "Scene. Switch."

When she opened her eyes Riddick was standing in front of her holding out a half full glass of something, with an odd look on his face. "Gonna be able to keep this down?"

Zemma took the glass and drained it half way. She gasped and coughed. "Yes," she choked but Riddick looked like he didn't believe her. The liquid hit her stomach like a ball of fire spread to her limbs.

Zemma coughed. "It's hot." She took another drink; her head swam a little.

Riddick nodded, still watching her face, and took a sip of his own. "You shouldn't drink that too fast," he told her dryly.

"It doesn't actually taste very good," she said with a crease in her brow as she took another, rather large, swallow.

"It does the job."

"What job is that?" Zemma finished the glass with a pinched look.

Riddick looked critically at her, then with a sadistic twist of his mouth he poked her in the sternum with two fingers and she tipped backwards onto the nearest overstuffed chair. He laughed at her disgruntled face.

"You better stay there if you plan on having another glass." He smirked and took another drink from his own.

"You're… mean." Hmmn… not her best comeback but 'fuck you' was overused.

"Feeling better?" He was enjoying this too much.

"Mush."

He laughed again and sat down where he could watch her as she struggled to get righted in the chair. "You sure you're old enough for this?" He kicked his feet up onto the low table and settled back comfortably, and offered no assistance as she tried to get twisted around.

"What… is this… stuff?" Zemma realized she had slurred her last word and tried to get her focus back. Drunks talk too much, remember?

"The good stuff." He was looking at her over the top of his now nearly empty glass.

"I like your laugh."

"Is that a fact?"

"Uh huh." Zemma looked at Riddick in the dim light of a fiery nebula. Watch what you say! How much humiliation do you want in one night?

"Is that it?" Was he baiting her? She wasn't sure of anything anymore…

…And didn't so much care right now.

"Nuh-uh. No more talking for me," she said.

"But you're doing so well."

"You're baiting me."

"You're very entertaining when I bait you."

Zemma managed to string along a complicated series of clipped vowels and blended consonants that were her native tongue without slurring them too much. Not that he would notice.

"I'm a colossal prick again?"

Zemma nodded too hard and her chin nearly hit her chest. He remembered that from nearly a month ago? "And you are capable of amatom- ana tom mi- cally imposssssible thingsss."

Riddick laughed lightly. "I've been accused of that in every language I've ever heard."

"Meanss you're consssissstant." Zemma pointed a finger at him and grinned too much. She felt very pleasant but a bit disconnected.

"Ready for more?" He got up and went back to the bar for the half empty bottle.

"You're challenging me again." She waved the finger she still had pointed but couldn't remember how it had gotten that way.

"I am?"

"Ugh!" Zemma growled at him. "You are singularly the most aggravating person… why after all these years do I want to go to bed with… you?" Wait, did she say that out loud?

"It's my singular charm."

Apparently so. She put her hand to her face and it felt hot. Blushing again? Or the alcohol? Oh, Zemma, Zemma, Zemma… this is not the way! But her mouth was disconnected from her brain.

"Will you go to bed with me, oh charming one?"

Riddick waited till he had returned to his own overstuffed chair, bottle in hand, before answering her.

"No."

Zemma only blinked. Okay, remember that warning about humiliation? This is it, sweetheart.

Riddick tipped his head to one side and looked at her over his glass again.

"Uhm… can I ask why?" What's one more humiliation now?

"Because you are drunk, and I am working on it."