Chapter Thirteen of The Velveteen Tortoise is now available.
Pyxis The Restrained
“What I meant,” the human medic snarls at me, “is that it would be better if you went outside because you don’t belong here.”
Gary gasps. “Hey now, Doc!”
I just shrug. “Of course I don’t.”
“Then leave.” The medic points her finger. “Just go.”
“Do you mean leave the medical modular—”
“Medical clinic,” she snaps at me.
I keep going. “Or…”
That’s the sound of my helmet scraping across the low ceiling as I visually track where she’s pointing. Which is up and not toward the modular’s main doors.
Does she mean go off-world?
Because if that’s what she’s saying, she’s totally implying it. Which completely contradicts what she said earlier about implications.
I flick my attention from the low ceiling to the huffing medic. Screech.
However, she’s cringing and slapping her hands over her ears, and those human reactions aren’t really giving me any indication about exactly where she wants me to go.
I tilt my head back toward the ceiling. Screech. “You mean off-world?”
Because my answer to that is an abso-fucking-lutely hard no. I’m not leaving Warren’s. Warren’s is where my mate is.
I snap my attention back to the medic. Screee—
The ceiling falls on my head.
Well. Not the whole ceiling. Just a sliced through sheet of it.
And now that sheet has dropped onto the floor.
“Shit!” Gary cries out.
I turn—twisting just my torso—to look at Gary. He’s sitting up, looking all gaping and startled and befuddled. You know what? He kinda looks like regular old, not-sick-at-all, Gary.
Which is a relief.
He runs his stunned gaze over me. “Ya okay, P?”
Whatever ‘okay’ means. It’s a human word. But I’m totally confident that it completely applies to me…