The rain outside had intensified, and the sound of it obscured nearly all else. For the moment it was just her and Styrm; if the couple on the other side of the curtain were present, they were unusually quiet. Besides, she'd paid good coin for them to maintain their silence -- but she still put the food down while she finished chewing. Once she'd done with it, she repacked the food and slid it sideways. She came down from her crouch, tucking her legs beneath her, and placed her hands on her knees. She put the weight of her upper body on them, her head lowering until it drew even with the line of her shoulders.
The sound of the rain was loud, especially when she couldn't bring herself to respond to him, not right away. She was lost in her own act. What a joke.
"Look," she said, and stalled. She licked her lips. Try again. "I ain't good wi' . . . swappin' straight talk wi'strangers in me home." She glanced away from Styrm as if to reaffirm that was where they were before looking back. "But I'll be straight. I ain't got a good past wi'the jacks. An' . . .y'know, ain't like -- I ain't crossed paths wi'the Gate. But ain't typical fer one like me t'go prancin' up t'their door. Master Lolotaru, well, he ain't called th'jacks down on me head. That's good. That's real good, but it still, well, shit gets taken out o'me every time I tread stone near that guild."
She was staring at Styrm, staring hard. "An' I know mebbe it's a risk fer him too, but I still gotta know, y'know. That he won't turn me in. That he won't . . . kill me, on accident or a purpose. That I can. . .trust. . .him."
Her voice was low and serious, her mouth working over the words as if she had to chew them to get them to fit on her tongue. There was two of her in those words, a mix of Joz and Zhi that contained things she didn't really want to think about. So she didn't. She pinned that intensity on Styrm: face down and eyes up: a cat ready to strike or turn tail depending on need.
The sound of the rain was loud, especially when she couldn't bring herself to respond to him, not right away. She was lost in her own act. What a joke.
"Look," she said, and stalled. She licked her lips. Try again. "I ain't good wi' . . . swappin' straight talk wi'strangers in me home." She glanced away from Styrm as if to reaffirm that was where they were before looking back. "But I'll be straight. I ain't got a good past wi'the jacks. An' . . .y'know, ain't like -- I ain't crossed paths wi'the Gate. But ain't typical fer one like me t'go prancin' up t'their door. Master Lolotaru, well, he ain't called th'jacks down on me head. That's good. That's real good, but it still, well, shit gets taken out o'me every time I tread stone near that guild."
She was staring at Styrm, staring hard. "An' I know mebbe it's a risk fer him too, but I still gotta know, y'know. That he won't turn me in. That he won't . . . kill me, on accident or a purpose. That I can. . .trust. . .him."
Her voice was low and serious, her mouth working over the words as if she had to chew them to get them to fit on her tongue. There was two of her in those words, a mix of Joz and Zhi that contained things she didn't really want to think about. So she didn't. She pinned that intensity on Styrm: face down and eyes up: a cat ready to strike or turn tail depending on need.
