to do, if you ask me."
Manx grinned. "She didn't ask you, though—did she?"
"Aw, hell! Nobody gives a flying fuck what I think— or what I like," Zef grumbled. "Except you."
"Me?" Manx said with surprise. "I have no idea what you like!"
"You know I like fish, and you always throw your fish bones back in the lake," Zef protested. "I love fish bones!"
"Never knew that," Manx admitted. "I was just making sure no one would find the bones and wonder what ate the fish."
Zef's pectoral fins wobbled. "You mean you weren't doing it just to be nice?"
Manx shook his head regretfully. "No, Zef. Sorry."
"Well, if that don't beat all!" Zef exclaimed. "Here I thought I'd finally found a friend and you just turn out to be—"
"But I am your friend," Manx said reassuringly. "And just to prove it, I'll be sure to tell you when I'm throwing away the bones from now on."
Zef seemed to think this was a perfectly wonderful demonstration of friendship. "And to prove I'm your friend," he said, cocking his head to one side, "I might tell Drusilla there's someone else living around here who'd like to meet her."
Manx wanted to say yes more than anything—and if he'd been downwind of Drusilla at the time, he might have responded differently—but since he wasn't, he chose to be cautious. "Why don't you talk to her some more before you tell her about me," Manx suggested. "She might not be as nice as she looks."
Zef was quick to pick up on Manx's double meaning. "Oh, ho! So she looks good to you, does she? Better looking than the Baradans, maybe, but not by much. About like you, I'd say."
Manx laughed. "And you used to call me 'pretty boy'!" Pausing for a moment, he added, "Of course, if you'd be nice to her, we might get a better idea of her personality than we would if you irritate her." Manx eyed Zef unblinkingly. "You know how you are."
If Zef felt chastised, it didn't show. "I am what I am," he said staunchly. "Can't change, don't want to change, and refuse to try."
Manx was shrewd enough to know that anyone could change, and also that everyone had their price. "What would it take? More bones?"
Zef laughed. "No," he replied. "Just toss me a whole fish once in a while—preferably one that's already dead. I'm getting too slow to catch them anymore. Had to resort to eating plants just to stay alive." The eltran shifted his weight painfully from one ragged pectoral fin to the other. "Don't ever get old, Manx," Zef advised. "It's pure hell."
"Perhaps," Manx conceded. "But I have no intention of dying young just to avoid it."
"And certainly not before you've met Drusilla," Zef added. "I think you'll like her."
Manx didn't want to admit it to Zef, but if her scent was anything to go by, he had a strong feeling he already did.
"What about you?" Manx inquired. "Did you like her?"
The eltran let out a loud bark. "What difference does that make?" he demanded. "I don't give a damn—" Zef broke off there as though considering his reply. "Well, maybe it does matter," he admitted grudgingly. "She seemed nice enough—didn't swear at me, anyway. Most of the people staying in that house have told me to get lost, or fuck off. She didn't do that."
"What about that swim in the lake?" Manx went on. "Did you enjoy watching her?"
"Didn't hate it, if that's what you mean," Zef replied. "Like I said before, she's a lot like you." Zef looked up at Manx with a friendly eye. "Never minded you."
"Well, then, do me a favor and try not to scare her off—let her swim without being bothered—unless, of course, you two decide to be friends. Then she probably wouldn't mind." Maybe.
"Rather be swimming with her yourself, wouldn't you?" Zef said shrewdly. "You haven't come right out and said it, but you fancy her, don't you?"
"Fancy?" Manx echoed. "What do you mean by that?"
"Means you like her, numb
Manx grinned. "She didn't ask you, though—did she?"
"Aw, hell! Nobody gives a flying fuck what I think— or what I like," Zef grumbled. "Except you."
"Me?" Manx said with surprise. "I have no idea what you like!"
"You know I like fish, and you always throw your fish bones back in the lake," Zef protested. "I love fish bones!"
"Never knew that," Manx admitted. "I was just making sure no one would find the bones and wonder what ate the fish."
Zef's pectoral fins wobbled. "You mean you weren't doing it just to be nice?"
Manx shook his head regretfully. "No, Zef. Sorry."
"Well, if that don't beat all!" Zef exclaimed. "Here I thought I'd finally found a friend and you just turn out to be—"
"But I am your friend," Manx said reassuringly. "And just to prove it, I'll be sure to tell you when I'm throwing away the bones from now on."
Zef seemed to think this was a perfectly wonderful demonstration of friendship. "And to prove I'm your friend," he said, cocking his head to one side, "I might tell Drusilla there's someone else living around here who'd like to meet her."
Manx wanted to say yes more than anything—and if he'd been downwind of Drusilla at the time, he might have responded differently—but since he wasn't, he chose to be cautious. "Why don't you talk to her some more before you tell her about me," Manx suggested. "She might not be as nice as she looks."
Zef was quick to pick up on Manx's double meaning. "Oh, ho! So she looks good to you, does she? Better looking than the Baradans, maybe, but not by much. About like you, I'd say."
Manx laughed. "And you used to call me 'pretty boy'!" Pausing for a moment, he added, "Of course, if you'd be nice to her, we might get a better idea of her personality than we would if you irritate her." Manx eyed Zef unblinkingly. "You know how you are."
If Zef felt chastised, it didn't show. "I am what I am," he said staunchly. "Can't change, don't want to change, and refuse to try."
Manx was shrewd enough to know that anyone could change, and also that everyone had their price. "What would it take? More bones?"
Zef laughed. "No," he replied. "Just toss me a whole fish once in a while—preferably one that's already dead. I'm getting too slow to catch them anymore. Had to resort to eating plants just to stay alive." The eltran shifted his weight painfully from one ragged pectoral fin to the other. "Don't ever get old, Manx," Zef advised. "It's pure hell."
"Perhaps," Manx conceded. "But I have no intention of dying young just to avoid it."
"And certainly not before you've met Drusilla," Zef added. "I think you'll like her."
Manx didn't want to admit it to Zef, but if her scent was anything to go by, he had a strong feeling he already did.
"What about you?" Manx inquired. "Did you like her?"
The eltran let out a loud bark. "What difference does that make?" he demanded. "I don't give a damn—" Zef broke off there as though considering his reply. "Well, maybe it does matter," he admitted grudgingly. "She seemed nice enough—didn't swear at me, anyway. Most of the people staying in that house have told me to get lost, or fuck off. She didn't do that."
"What about that swim in the lake?" Manx went on. "Did you enjoy watching her?"
"Didn't hate it, if that's what you mean," Zef replied. "Like I said before, she's a lot like you." Zef looked up at Manx with a friendly eye. "Never minded you."
"Well, then, do me a favor and try not to scare her off—let her swim without being bothered—unless, of course, you two decide to be friends. Then she probably wouldn't mind." Maybe.
"Rather be swimming with her yourself, wouldn't you?" Zef said shrewdly. "You haven't come right out and said it, but you fancy her, don't you?"
"Fancy?" Manx echoed. "What do you mean by that?"
"Means you like her, numb
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