With Friends Like These, Part 3
08 Mar 2016Michael Wolfe
Goddamnit. It’s still not totally clean.I had been sitting in the pilot’s seat of the Python, trying to gently scrub the last of the dried blood off of my leather jacket. It was nearly gone, but there was a persistent spot in the crease of one of the cuffs. I shook my head and held it up, frowning.
From behind me, Marra walked up and sat down on the co-pilot’s seat, propping her feet up in between the holo-projections and holding a mug in her hands. She had expressed a preference for keeping the bridge door open at all times. It struck me as an odd request, but not one I had any good reason to deny.
Truthfully, I was almost surprised to see her. For the day and a half that we had been travelling together, she had made herself scarce. I knew that she wasn’t exactly keen on being partnered up with me, but she seemed to be always disappearing into her room for short stretches at a time. For what, I had no idea.
For awhile, she sipped at what smelled like a pungent tea, and noted my frustration with getting my jacket clean. Finally, she spoke.
“You seem awfully attached to that jacket.”
I looked up and shrugged. “It was a gift.”
She raised her eyebrows and took another sip, my answer barely interesting her. She looked out the window for awhile, and then turned back to me.
“Inherited?”
Dad, wearing a leather jacket? Fat chance.
“Nope.”
Her eyes grew mocking. “Girlfriend?”
Both less and more than that, darlin’.
“Not exactly.”
“Wife?”
I held up my finger, spread out for her to see. “Do you see a ring?”
Marra didn’t acknowledge me, just glancing over at my bare hands. One of her eyebrows slowly raised.
“Boyfriend?”
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