Ros?

“Wha?” I said at the air that had spoken my name. If I were any more diligent, and if it had been anyone else, then I would’ve scrambled as fast as I could to my feet in an attempt to screw my head back on tighter. Not that it would’ve done any good; chances were, I was just gonna end up tumbling my ass into the water in my fumbling, which wasn’t frozen but that didn’t mean that the shit wouldn’t still be cold as hell.

But then my eyes settled on the shadow that had rolled up on me so quick ‘n slick that I had thought that it was a shadow for a moment. And then I blinked the blurriness out my eye, and I saw that the shadow had a face that was white. “Oh” I said, sloppy and loud and relieved, “s'you” I flopped back down on the ground, my too-small tail flicking uselessly against the loam. “That….uh…'Terra guy.” I didn’t mean for it to be like…oh, well shit, it ain’t like he wasn’t anyone important. It ain’t like I was saying he was no one to worry about or anythin’. He was just one of those people that...uh...hmm. How do I say it?

I guess after a certain point, when you know a little bit too much TMI about a dude and his secret biz, you stop feeling self-conscious around him. Like...How the hell was I gonna act all reserved and righteous and fake when I knew the dude’s heart? When I had seen him literally broken somewhere on the hillside, forced to let me bear witness on one of the most vulnerable ways a man can be found? I’m not the kind of hypocrite to deny that this mess at his feet was me and mine, or get all offended that he was seeing it. I owed him at least that much, I feel like; tit for tat, y’know.

I looked at him suddenly with narrow, shrewd eyes that couldn’t focus right. Now that I knew it was him, I knew what signs to look for--namely, the way he always smelled like sweat, like something heady and heavy and too hot, as if his body was always screaming at the top of its lungs I’M A DUDE, I MEAN IT. “The Indomimab--uh,” I blinked rapidly, because suddenly that word was too big for me to chew and I had to actually think about it. “The Indomino-- the Indy--domin--marble.” I paused, then gave a big curt nod, as though I fucking nailed that word. Then I blew a raspberry and fell back on the ground laughing, braying like a goddamn mule, even as an apple rolled toward me and I reached forward almost absently with my lips.

Are you hurt?

“I mean,” I said with sloppy bites of apple-flavored poison, “Cheek’sh clearly tryna poison my ass bu’ it’s’cool, y’know,” I shrugged, but it was harder than I thought to do it on the ground and I’m not sure if he could see it, “jus’ chillin’, y’know. On p’trol but shit’s’cold, son.”

Suddenly I was flopping everywhere, gearing up for an idea that wasn’t clear yet, but I was clearly preparing for. I scooted over somewhat, situating myself on the other side of the apple pile (which was mysteriously getting larger and larger) and offering the warm-spot I’d made. “Here, pop’a squat, tell some stories’n’shit,” I said with an eager hiccup, “S’cold out there, ain’t like you got better shit to do, right? ‘Sides,” the eager look on my face had a bite in it, “you c’n tell me all ‘bout why the hell they call you the Unfuckwithable these days.” I'd heard the name, and it was a sick sort of joke, the way it rolled in my thoughts; how he was known as a king, the Unconquered, when I had met him at his most brutal conquering. But no one knew about that, I don't think--not even Kis knew anymore, having wiped that shit off her HDD, so it was a dirty little secret between the two of us and I wasn't that much of a jerk to blab it.

But for some reason, I felt like fucking with him at this moment. And I'm not sure why.

"talk"