Page 170 of Red Scale Daddy
He glances up then, and his eyes narrow in that familiar Larson way, like he is taking me apart by intention alone. “Earlier, you wanted to charge Throgg’s ship and tear your way to Roma with your hands.”
“I still like parts of that plan.”
“Now you are checking seal integrity.”
I look down at the rig, then at him. “Turns out dying before I reach her would be inconvenient.”
“Inconvenient,” he repeats.
“Deeply annoying, even.”
Pally studies me a moment longer, and something shifts in his expression. Suspicion stays, because he is not stupid, but it has company now. Maybe curiosity. Maybe reluctant approval. Maybe he is trying to decide whether Roma attracts lunatics or manufactures them through proximity.
“You want to live,” he says.
The words sit between us heavier than they ought to.
I flex my hands, feeling the lingering ache from vacuum exposure in my joints. “Yeah.”
His gaze sharpens.
I laugh under my breath, rough and low. “Don’t look so impressed. It’s new for me too.”
He steps away from the table and crosses to a side locker, pulling out a compact magnetic grappler and a coil of tether line. “Why?”
I know what he is asking.
I could dodge it. I have been dodging hard truths most of my life with jokes, fists, or both. The old me would grin, say something ugly enough to make the question go away, and call that strength.
I think of Roma’s hand against the airlock glass.
“I want to see what she does when this is over,” I say.
Pally stills with the grappler in his hand.
I keep going because stopping now would be cowardice wearing perfume. “I want to see her after the mission quits eating her alive. I want to see what she builds when she isn’t building a way into hell. I want to hear her insult a sunrise because it’s inefficient or argue with a coffee machine until it loses dignity. I want her to have a tomorrow she didn’t schedule around grief.”
Pally looks away first.
Good. Let him sit with that.
“And you?” he asks, voice lower.
I pull the pressure rig’s chest seal into place. “I’d like to be there when she finds out tomorrow exists.”
His mouth tightens, but the edge in him changes shape. “That is a dangerous hope.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Most good things are.”
He hands me the grappler. “Then we plan like men who intend to survive.”
I take it and feel the weight settle into my palm. “That your official blessing?”
“My official blessing would involve a background check, several threats, and time I do not have.”
“I’ll take the abbreviated version.”
“You have it.”
