"So, do you guys drink milk?" I suddenly asked, after a long break from my last tangent of questions and rambling.
"Milk? Of course, we drink milk," answered Zelgadis.
"I mean from… cows?" I meekly added.
"From cows?" he inquired. "Why would we drink cow milk?"
"Well, back on earth, many of us drink cow's milk for calcium and various vitamins… plus, you use it in food. But, then again, it has its costs," I explained, finally walking in stride with Zelgadis.
"Cost?" he asked and prevented me from having to unnecessarily explain what cost is. "I know the concept of cost… trust me. I mean, what cost, other than monetary of course, are there?"
"Ah, well…" I softly spoke, paused to consider how to address the question and continued. "When does a mother produce milk?"
"When she has born her young, of course," he answered, patiently.
I nodded and looked into his eyes. I asked gently, "Do you really think we found another way to get females to milk?"
"Oh," Zelgadis sighed. "What happens to the calves?"
"Raised in pods, on artificial mothers…" drearily, I answered. A blank expression overcame my face, a light frown tainted my usually fluttering lips.
"They grow up strong on that?" he asked in disgusted awe.
"Think of it as a soulless foster parent," I softly murmured.
He nodded, thinking on it… comparing it to something like the chimera labs.
"May I do something probably bizarre for you?" I suddenly asked. I had already stopped, looking at him, waiting for his answer when he decided to stop also.
Zelgadis blinked , "Are you going to try to kill me again?"
"No," I said without humor nor disgrace." My amber eyes studied his beautiful deep azure. "It's a sign of affection and comfort for my people."
"Um, okay?" he uttered, his cheeks again marooning under his rock-strewn eye markings. What? Is she going to lick my navel or something? This is the same girl who has a modified fish hook in her lip.
I hugged him close and whispered into one of his pointy ears, "Thank you, Mr. Greywords." My busted right hand resting up his back so as not to freak him out more.
At first, Zelgadis didn't know how to take this. He stiffened his posture, forcing me to be hugging a six-foot-tall boulder. When he realized that there wasn't more to the embrace than appreciation, he slowly accepted the hug.
I repeated again, as if in an undertone prayer, "Thank you, Zelgadis Greywords." I tightened my grasp and rested my cheek on his shoulder
He blushed lightly and sighed, "For what?"
"Saving me," I answered. I patted his back and started letting him go. But, he still held me close, his head on my shoulder. I patted his back again, smiling softly. "You don't get hugged often do you?"
He spoke into my shoulder, softly and simply, "Not really."
"They're free, ya know," I advised. "Just walk up and ask for one. 'Benny, I need a hug.'"
"In that 'accent' of yours?" he asked.
"Well, more in your own voice, it's easier that way," I answered. "You see…"
"Shut up and hug me again," he demanded. His ears pulled down and back.
"Yeth thir," I lisped and hugged him. "Any better?"
He nodded and let me go. "Thank you, Benny Burton."
"For?" I asked, as they continued on their walk.
"Saving an old child," he chuckled and bumped his shoulder into mine. He forgot his own power and weight, thus forcing me to tumble like the Scarecrow.
I chuckled, blushed, looking up at him as I scrambled to get back up, and asked, "Sorry?"
"No, that's a good thing," he assured her as he offered me a hand.
I giggled, accepted the hand, and clarified, "It isn't that way, you yank. We Irish say that as you may ask, 'Excuse me?'"
"Oh," he answered, paused for thought, and explained. "Well, I'm not the most… social being."
"I didn't realize!" I gasped in faux-shock in tone and expression… my fingerless gloved hands up to my gaping mouth and everything.
"Are you quite done?" he asked, slightly irritated. Here I am actually opening up to someone. And, that someone plays it off as a joke…
I shrugged, nudged her elbow gently (for my benefit) into his side, and admitted, grinning, "For now. And, by the way, I've been hearing your thoughts. You need to turn down the volume if you don't want me in your head. I mean, that'd be a scary place for me to be, right? Me frolicking around in there, running amuck…"
He glared at me for a few seconds, trying to find an indicator that I got how serious he was. Then, he continued with his explanation.
I only half listened to him while observing him nonchalantly, just studying my new ally. His dark abyss blue eyes were graced by eyestone outlines. His face showed that he was freckled by the darker stones against his grey-blue skin. He had excellent cheekbones that were also flattered by the eyestones. His nose was quaint and very pixie-like. His hair was pretty accurately described by my first thought as it was of what seemed to be of blue steel wire and seemed to have more of a will than her own hair, as it spurred out wildly as if he slept in it with hair spray still in.
"Are you even listening?" he asked, breaking my concentration on him so I would actually interact with what he had to say.
"No, but she's lucky, whoever she is," I offhandedly answered.
He blushed under those flattering eyestones and asked, "Who?"
"The girl you love. The meaning of your existence, other than your cruel past and even crueler obsession," I said, somehow still smiling. "She found a pretty and very… noble man. She's very lucky to have you."
"Do you always flatter strangers, Miss Burton?" he asked, his voice showing humor. "… because about two hours ago you tired to kill me."
"Oh, let that horse die already," I groaned. Zelgadis perked his ears and raised a brow. "I don't make a habit of flattering strangers, but when the rare and grand exceptions come along, I do honor them."
He gently chuckled and asked, "Is that so? Are there many 'rare and grand exceptions' back in your world?"
I shrugged, kicked at the dirt, and admitted, "Maybe a few."
"A few?' he smugly asked. "You're not too boy-crazy, are ya?" He paused as he realized that I really had been rubbing off on him and shook his head, still trying to deny that other people can actually influence him.
"Loved six men in my life, Zelgadis," I softly admitted. I counted them off on my scarred fingers on my left hand. "My brother, my childhood husband (It's a long story; don't ask.), the man who adopted me, the man who took me in as his own, the man who broke my heart, and the man who has been trying to sew said heart back together again. So, yeah, there are the rare and grand exceptions." With the last one I held up my right index finger.
Zelgadis in astonishment whispered barely louder than the ambiance surrounding us, "You really are the real deal."
"Oh yeah?" I inquired in the realm between tears of joy and a laugh, "Am I being told by another real deal?"
He laughed and elbowed me gently, "Oh, you know it."
We both laughed at the joke and continued our course.