Page 151 of Red Scale Daddy
“Your hands stopped,” Throgg says.
My fingers resume movement immediately. “I was calculating.”
“You were remembering.”
I look at the panel. “Those can occur simultaneously.”
“Your companion’s death troubles you.”
The panel edge presses into my palm as my hand tightens.
“He was useful,” I say.
Throgg steps closer behind me, his presence a cold pressure at my back. “That is all?”
I enter a command string and watch the system accept a shallow diagnostic overlay. “Usefulness is a high compliment.”
“He fought for you.”
“Yes.”
“He died for you.”
My throat closes.
The screen blurs for half a breath before I force it clear.
“No,” I say.
Throgg’s voice lowers. “No?”
“I did not see a body.”
“You saw him ejected into open space.”
“I saw an event. I did not confirm an outcome.”
Behind me, one of the Reapers makes a low sound that might be contempt.
Throgg remains quiet.
I continue entering commands because stopping would reveal too much. “If you intend to manipulate me through grief, you should improve your methods. Precision matters.”
“You deny what you saw because accepting it would compromise you.”
“I deny premature conclusions because they are poor science.”
A faint laugh leaves him. The sound contains admiration without warmth. “There it is.”
“What?”
“The structure you hide inside.”
I turn then, because there is value in showing him the edge of anger without giving him the wound beneath it. “You brought me here to repair your ship. If you prefer philosophical commentary, find someone else to threaten.”
His gaze holds mine.
Then he smiles.
