[MillietheWarrior]

The droid whirred in something akin to annoyance, and Jaing was sure that if it could form the appropriate facial expression, it might’ve looked quite cross. “I am not an ‘it’,” the droid said, it’s voice buzzing and crackling as it regarded Amala coolly. “I am an RT-7715 model. Please address me by my proper unit number.” It then turned to Jaing and seemed to take on an air of someone who was rather fond of him. It’s voice softened slightly, and it leaned towards him in a curious fashion. “I’m not going to question your choice in human females, Lieutenant. But next time you bring one in, please be sure she is a little more well-informed.” It straightened up, suddenly looking quite business-like. “Now. Caf for the human female. And anything for you sir?”

Jaing seemed a little too amused by the entire situation, and seemed to have decided to let the remark about his 'choice in human females' slip. “Minced roba and gravy,” he said. “And caf for me too.” The droid nodded sharply, and with a whir and a click, bustled about the kitchen preparing their orders. Jaing turned slightly, steering Amala out from behind him with a grin. “Sorry...Should’ve warned you about him. RT can be a bit...Touchy when it comes to new people. He’s a droid, as you can see. He’s like...The cafeteria droid. Although he’s not alone, he is in charge of all the meals and cleanup done in the mess hall.” He lowered his voice with a smile. “So he’s a bit full of himself. But don’t let all that bluster put you off. Once he’s warmed up to you, he’ll pretty much do anything you ask; that’s how I get my late-night snacks.” He chuckled, before a double clank and the sound of a metal tray hitting the counter caught his attention.

“Your order, lieutenant, human female. I hope it’s to your liking.” The droid seemed to whir in annoyance as it regarded Amala. “Do you not require solid sustenance, human female? You seem malnourished and my scanners indicate you have no eaten for approximately six to seven hours.” He turned and whirred about the kitchen, before setting down a plate similar to Jaing’s on the counter beside the two cups and first tray. “I highly recommend you eat. Lieutenant, please inform your human female that if she continues the way she is now, she will probably have a serious malfunction.”

Jaing tried to stifle his grin, before tilting his head in Amala’s direction. “Am’ika...If you continue the way you are, you will have a serious malfunction,” he said, chuckling. He turned his head to the droid, his face slightly more serious. “But I think, RT, that you should learn to address her properly. She isn’t ‘human female.’” He nodded his head to Amala as he grabbed his tray and cup of caf. “Go on, Am’ika. Inform him of who you are and tell him how he should treat you,” he called over his shoulder as he settled himself at a bench beside the droid’s serving window. He took a sip of his caf, watching Amala over the rim of his cup, and trying hard not to smile. He'd let Amala take care of this one; she needed to learn to look after herself both verbally and physically and this would be a good step to gaining more self-confidence. Jaing considered this the first lesson he could teach her on self-defense, albeit, a much kinder, and less physical one.

[31]

[Kallile]

Amala could only blink at the RT droid as it talked to her like, well, a person. In all her life she had never dreamed she’d meet any sort of robotic figures that actually worked, let alone a moody one. “Oh…sorry.” She replied back, still mesmerized. She could feel her cheeks burn at the comment about Jaing’s choice in her and wondered why it was even this droid could make her self-conscious. She narrowed her eyes at it—correction, at RT—slightly and held her hiding position behind Jaing.

She barely paid attention to what Jaing ordered, only snapping out of her trance when he steered her out of hiding. She stared up at Jaing as if he were speaking completely in his native tongue of Mando’a, but smiled weakly at last and nodded. “I didn’t realize they would have such personalities with them…are you sure there has to be more than RT?” She asked in a jokingly pleading tone. Granted, she was going off of every sci-fi movie she had ever seen in which robots either a—had to be taught to have personalities and emotions or b—were out to destroy all mankind. She never dreamed a rather haughty one would be making her a cup of coffee.

Amala was half listening when the droid began to talk, looking only when it set down a second tray, intended for her, she supposed. Right now she was not entirely concerned with that, she was far too busy trying to hide the embarrassment on her face as RT informed her that she was malnourished. “But I…” She started, not really sure how to contradict a droid.

And then she realized a very important fact. She was standing there alone, facing the droid and faintly remembered what Jaing had just told her. She looked over her shoulder at Jaing, her mouth twitching slightly as if she was going to say something to him. Slowly she turned back to face RT. He looked much bigger, and more imposing, without Jaing up here. Mustering what little courage she could find in the pit of her stomach, she took a few shuffling steps forward to confront the droid before her. She could feel her stomach flutter.

“My name’s Amala, I’m very sorry that I called you an ‘it’, RT.” She said, her voice wobbling slightly. “But…I’ll be here a while, and I promise to learn about you and be more respectful in the future if you will do the same for me.”

She watched the droid, wondering absently what she was to do if it elected not to verbally answer. Did certain whirs and clicks mean certain things? She hoped not, she didn’t have Jaing up here to translate. “And thank you, for the food.” She nodded her head slightly (and nervously) to the side, hoping there was no certain way she needed to end her part of the conversation.

[31]

[MillietheWarrior]

The droid seemed to regard Amala with something akin to curiosity. Although it wasn't in the nature of a droid to feel ay sort of emotion, sometimes they picked things up from observation, and had a tendency to emulate what emotions they could understand. This one seemed to be a lot like the Clones here; observant, cautious, curious, and kind. Although it didn't seem like it at first. "Apology accepted...Amala unit. Lieutenant Jaing has never brought a human female into this place before. Perhaps you are something special." It tilted it's head, a serious of whirs and clicks issuing from it's vocal processors, before it blinked large, white glass eyes. "I suggest you eat, Amala unit. My central processing unit tells me you will be here for a very long time." With that, it began bustling about the kitchen, picking up trays and tossing them into a sink of hot water.


Jaing watched with mild curiosity, more intent on getting a good meal in his stomach than making sure Amala stood up to the droid. It was a small lesson, and he knew he could always work with her on her confidence later. For now though, he was impressed. She already seemed to be making progress, and that was definitely a good thing. He regarded her over the rim of his cup as he took another drink, cutting into the meat on his plate with a small smile. Clones, like him, were always hungry. It wasn't exactly known why, but most considered it their need to fuel their accelerated growth and amazing fast metabolisms. They also had a veritable sweet tooth; mention candy, and you definitely had their attention.

So, needless to say, Jaing was pretty interested in his plate of food as he watched Amala look on at the droid in mild fascination. It was interesting to see the reaction outsiders had when they were introduced to technology such as this. "Come sit and eat, cyar'ika," he called, setting down his cup. He smiled slightly at her. "And I don't think RT will be forgetting your name anytime soon..." He chuckled, taking another bite of his food. "But he's right," he said after a moment, swallowing the mouthful of Roba.

"You will be here for a very long time. And RT is a good friend to make. He won’t ever turn you away...In a day or two, once things have settled down at the base, I’ll show you where everything is. We’re not due for any inspection anytime soon, so it’s all right if a few ‘brothers’ see you. They honestly don’t mind. They might even ask you a ton of questions. But they’re harmless, really...Just curious.”

[32]

[Kallile]

Amala smiled to RT, wondering if it would know that was a friendly way of acceptance. She didn’t dwell on the thoughts long—her mind had grasped onto the comment that she was the first woman Jaing had ever brought here. She didn’t know much about military men, or Clones for that matter, but in her experience with men in general she had always assumed that it was unusual for them to not have had a handful of women as late night accompaniment. The fact that she was the first and only to have accompanied Jaing here caused a wave of ease and relief to sweep over her.

By the time she began to focus back onto what was going on around her, she realized that her name had gained an extra set of syllables. “It’s just…” she began softly, seeing that RT was no longer in front of her and was quite busy cleaning up. “Amala…” Her voice dipped even lower and she took her tray and hurried over to Jaing.

Amala sat across from him, taking notice for the first time what was on her plate. It was, to say the least, definitely not chicken. Nor did it look similar to any other meat Amala typically encountered, though that didn’t necessarily make it a bad thing. She picked u her fork, giving the meal a testing poke as she watched Jaing carve his meal into bite-sized bits.

“At least it’s a day or two away, I don’t know if I could take this level of excitement tomorrow too.” She smiled, the way her eyes seemed to dance in the lighting showed she was joking. Sort of. It would be nice to have a chance to get settled in and just learn the path between Jaing’s room and the mess hall first. The shimmer in her eyes didn’t dim at the mention that she would probably be asked questions, but her smile became a slightly nervous one. “I just hope I don’t draw too big of a crowd.”

Her attention dropped back to her plate, where her fork was still perched testily on top of the Roba. She swirled the gravy around, looking sheepishly back up at Jaing. “I never did ask…what is this, anyway?”

[32]

[MillietheWarrior]

“Well, considering your a woman, the crowd thing might be a problem,” Jaing said, a smile on his face as he took another bite of his food. He seemed to really enjoy it. He pointed to his own food with his fork. “It’s minced Roba. It’s like pork...And kinda like beef. It’s sort of a cross, I suppose. It’s good though.” He watched as he she took a tentative bite, and seemed to enjoy it. Jaing had no trouble wolfing down his own food; he was a clone after all, and he was always hungry. Amala, however, took a little more time. Jaing drank his caf slowly as he waited for her to finish her meal. Once done, the two of them stood and placed their trays on the sill for RT to clean. once they’d bid goodbye and goodnight to the droid, Jaing carefully led Amala back down the maze of corridors to his room. He had to look around every corner to be sure no one was coming around them.

The last thing he wanted right now was to explain her presence here. He’d debrief his men in secret when the Mongrels weren’t around; it’d be easier that way. As he opened the door and ushered her inside, Jaing pointed to her suitcase and then to the ‘fresher. “You can change in there,” he said with a smile, before sitting on the edge of the bed to remove his armor. Amala dug through her suitcase to find her pajamas, and disappeared inside the ‘fresher. Jaing was able to neatly stack his small collection or armor, and change into his red fatigues before she came out. Amala smiled slightly at him, before clambering onto the bed. Jaing plopped himself down on his makeshift ‘sleeping bag’ on the floor, and pulled the covers up to his shoulders, leaning against the pillows. “Goodnight, cyar’ika,” he yawned, waiting to hear Amala’s own softly uttered goodnight, before he reached up to switch off the lamp.

[33]

((Note for anyone reading: Kal and I are going to do a time skip. Thus, the slight power playing. Kal’s permission was given, so we’re going to be jumping ahead in time with her next post. ))

[Kallile]

The desk before her was all cleared, save for the giant laminated calendar and logo-yielding mouse pad that the company had provided her with. Amala looked at the freshly polished desk, a small smile of satisfaction that it looked like no one had ever been here. The floor, however, was a different story. A few sad, lonely looking pieces of colorful confetti were scattered about—remnants of her half-hearted goodbye party. No one in the office really cared too much—except for her neighbor cubicle inhabitant and the rather stereotypical ‘shoulder massage’ guy who Amala tended to hide from. He always wanted to know so much, and having his hands wrapped around her shoulders while he asked made her want to melt into the chair.

She still couldn’t believe that it had been two weeks at the base with Jaing already. Though she was far from complaining about it. It was such a liberating feeling, packing up her desk and tossing a few of her hidden ‘courage’ containers out the window and into the dumpster a few stories below with a satisfactory “smash”. Part of her had watched after them longingly, but Amala remained strong. She was doing so much better already, despite the cravings and urges that faced her daily, she had always been able to make it through the day without them. Jaing made sure of that; no matter how busy his day was, he always made time for Amala.

Picking up the small box that contained what used to decorate her desk, she began walking towards the receptionist area and (she took a gleeful moment to enjoy this thought) freedom. Forever.

She wondered absently about a few things—like what to do with the box in her hand. She couldn’t just heave it into a dumpster—even though few people would actually miss her, it might bring up questions about where she went. She supposed she would just drop it off at the pawn shop for free. She had made enough universal credits to make her feel like she was not completely dependant on her newfound boyfriend. She flushed slightly at the thought; she never really thought she’d see the day someone would like her enough to become that. She wondered where he’d meet her today—he rarely told her until he was already there. Safety measures, she supposed. He’d been coming to take her out to lunch for the past two weeks except for today—to let her co-workers send her off with sugary cake and ice cream. She had invited him to come, and despite the wishful look in his eyes, he had declined. This was Amala’s last day, she should take it and use it as her own.

She rounded the corner, the tidy wood floors shined to perfection and the sounds of a typing receptionist finally reaching her ears. That reminded her what she’d been thinking before getting sidetracked—would Jaing be here, or waiting at her home?

[33]

((Just confirming: I gave Millie permission to guide Amala's character so this post could flow more smoothly. Yay fast forwarding! XD ))

[MillietheWarrior]

Jaing had been waiting for a good part of half an hour. He didn't mind; it just gave him more time to think. It had been nearly two weeks since Amala had moved into the tiny, one person room at the base. Although Jaing was still concerned about her having to deal with such a small, cramped space, she often assured him that it was completely fine. Still, he wished he could give her something a bit better. Jaing lounged in one of the lobby chairs, his now orange and white armor a stark contrast to the dull, dark colors of the receptionist area. The steady typing of the woman at the desk had not ceased when he'd walked in, but it had decidedly slowed as the woman kept sneaking glances at him. She had stopped typing altogether when he'd removed his helmet, staring with slightly wide-eyes over the rim of her desk as Jaing smiled politely at her.

She made him a little uncomfortable, to be honest, so he tried his best to ignore her. It was difficult, though, because at some point, she'd decided he needed some refreshments and had brought him a cup of coffee. Jaing looked up questioningly as she rounded the corner of her desk, hurrying over with a steaming cup of caf clutched tightly in her hand. She smiled prettily at him, her cheeks flushing slightly, and bent down to hand him the cup. Jaing, not one to refuse politeness, took it with a grateful smile. "Um, thanks," he managed, looking a bit out of sorts. The two remained that way for a few moments of awkward silence; Jaing holding his cup of coffee and sitting in a chair, while the receptionist leaned over him, smiling like a love-sick school girl.

“Your very welcome,” she giggled, reaching up to brush back a strand of dark, chocolate hair. Jaing couldn’t help but realize that he very much preferred Amala’s pristine, snow-white hair to this strange, new woman’s dark tresses. He also realized that he was fairly uncomfortable with a giggling woman standing over him with a sparkle in her eye; it was downright creepy. He took a sip of his coffee, as if to assure her he’d drink it and she could get on her way and go, but was startled to see her plop herself down in the chair next to him. She reached out and boldly took his hand in hers. “I’ve never seen you around her before,” she cooed, tilting her head. “Were you waiting for me?” She ran a finger along his gauntlet, giggling in that strange, high-pitched voice.

“Uh...” Jaing managed, trying to figure out a way to tell her no and get her away from him without completely crushing her. She might be weird, but that didn't mean he was comfortable with just stomping all over her 'dreams.' He was well aware of the embarassing blush staining his cheeks and tried to tug his hand out of her grasp; she did not let go, even when he put his coffee down and cleared his throat meaningfully. “Oh, don’t be shy. If you aren’t waiting for anyone else, then you must be waiting for me. What’s your name, handsome?” Jaing wondered if she would mind terribly if he poured the hot coffee on her. Maybe that would deter her advances. But he doubted anything short of being knocked across the head would force her to leave him along.

“Uh, I’m not...I mean, if you could let go of my hand, please...What I meant to say is...I don't know you and...I'm here for...” He tugged his hand again, this time a little harder, but the woman’s grip tightened. She smiled brightly at him, her dark brown eyes twinkling with a light that made Jaing even more uncomfortable. “Don’t you, uh, have to go back to work?” Jaing desperately hoped someone would round the corner and save him; he didn’t much care who it was, he just wanted out of this situation. The woman smiled impishly, and leaned in closer. He could smell her perfume, and it made him want to gag. He pulled away slightly, trying to twist his head and body away from her, but it was a difficult thing to do while wearing armor. So here he was, glued to the chair by the woman's grip on his arm, with no where to go and no one to save him. “Not if you don’t want me to,” she said with a toothy grin. Jaing gulped audibly; would the company mind if he ‘accidentally’ broke her arm?

[34]

[Kallile]

Luckily for Jaing (and unluckily for the receptionist) it was Amala who rounded the corner only a minute later. The scene before her made her stop in her tracks to fully take in what was going on. Margie, the receptionist now hovering over a very awkward and twisted looking Jaing, was too focused on the ‘new hunk’ as she often called them. She was just in time to have hear the last exchanging of words as well. Frowning deeply, Amala made a “just wait” motion to Jaing incase he had spotted her. Setting her box down on the desk, she pulled out one of her flasks and ‘accidentally’ dropped it into Margie’s waste basket. It landed softly in the papers and disappeared beneath them from view. The janitorial crew would have a grand time of tattling on her for it later.

Stalking over to them, her light and usually gentle eyes aglow with anger as she focused on the woman invading Jaing’s personal space, she placed one hand over the one Margie had gripped onto Jaing and another roughly on the other woman’s shoulder. “I don’t know about my boyfriend, but I want you to go back to work. Now.”

Amala was finding that, knowing she would let down someone who truly cared about her if she did take other things to boost her courage, that she was finding she had more and more natural courage everyday. This was wonderful, because the look Margie shot her was nothing short of a challenge.

”Amala…” Margie said in venomous tones, much different than the one she had been speaking to Jaing in. “How nice of you to drop in on us. You haven’t left yet?” Margie made a move toward Jaing again, trying to ignore the shorter, white haired woman who was interrupting her ‘hunting’. Amala gripped down on her shoulder and hauled her back, just far enough so that her tiny frame could squeeze in between her boyfriend and the receptionist. In defiance of the other, Amala plopped herself down on Jaing’s lap, still clutching Margie’s hands on his gauntlet dangerously. “No, I haven’t. That’s because you’re annoying my escort.” She growled pointedly.

Margie frowned at this, yanking her hands back away from Amala. The once free area between she and the handsome man in armor that might have been closed to steal a kiss from him was now blocked by a light, icy eyed woman. Something that had never before happened in work history, not to Margie. She looked as if she might smack the smaller woman for finding an actual voice for once. Amala stiffened, quite sure that she just might.

[34]

((Eheh, wasn't sure where to end this at...so tada!))

[MillietheWarrior]

Jaing watched Amala with helpless eyes. He didn't know what to do; very rarely was he in a situation like this, and usually, he had the luxury of turning tail and bolting for the door. But right now, he was pinned to an increasingly uncomfortable chair, held down by his arm, and by the ferocious look in the woman's eyes. The sight of Amala, however, was like the light at the end of the tunnel. His saving grace. Jaing imagined he could hear a chorus of trumpets announcing her arrival. He slumped against the back of the chair, looking defeated and expectant, waiting for Amala to hurry over and knock the woman out (He might not have been able to do it, but he bet she could). He squirmed uncomfortably as she pushed herself in between the woman and him. He was alarmed to see the woman shoot her a venomous glare, her eyes burning and angry that Amala had distracted her from her 'prey.'

When the woman moved towards him, Jaing stretched himself backwards, but suddenly found himself hampered in his retreat by Amala plopping herself down on his lap. He sat there with a startled expression, looking somewhat lost as a blush crept unnoticed onto his cheeks.  In any other situation, he might welcome Amala's company, but right now, he was just ready to bolt for the door. When the woman yanked her hands away from him, Jaing's first thought was 'I'm free!' then his second thought and realization at Amala pinning him down was 'Shab, never mind.' Margie, though Jaing didn’t know her name, nor did he care to, glared daggers at the smaller woman, before grasping her by the upper arm, her perfectly manicured nails digging into her flesh. Jaing was able to sidle out from under Amala, before his gaze locked onto the woman’s hand on his girlfriend.

He narrowed his eyes, and, chivalry foregone, stepped in between them and wrenched her hand away from Amala. “Kindly keep your hands off my girlfriend, thank you very much,” he said in a tight voice, his teeth ground together. “I’m afraid to say that neither she nor I appreciate your advances. Kindly get back to work, miss. That’s what your being paid for, so do your job before I report you.” He had no problem doing it too. Margie glared at Jaing, all thoughts of romance gone, and then shot a venemous look in Amala's direction, but didn't budge. Turning his back to the woman, Jaing walked over and grabbed Amala’s small box of belongings, before heading back over to stand beside her. “Ready to go?” he asked, shooting an annoyed glare at the overzealous receptionist; he really didn’t want to deal with her today, and she’d just ruined what was supposed to be Amala’s last day at work and a nice evening together.

[35]

[Kallile]

When nails dug into her arm, Amala resisted the urge to yelp out in alarm. She had expected a smack across the face, not having a trap closed on her arm. Amala felt herself drop a good few inches onto the chair just before Jaing came into view and switched their roles. Now he was the one saving her.

With Margie momentarily quelled and her things gathered, Amala pushed herself up from the chair and, in a huff, walked over and took Jaing’s arm. A last glare was sent back to the place she had dreaded coming to and the people who had driven her to drugs and pills for the greater part of five years before she nearly dragged Jaing out the door.

Once into the hallway to the outside world Amala exhaled, using her free hand to cradle her forehead for a moment. “Well, that’s all the reminding I need of why going away with you is going to be better for my health.” She said as light-heartedly as she could. This was the right choice—she was more convinced of that now than ever. But it still hurt, realizing why she was so miserable just trying to have a normal life. She looked up at Jaing, smiling and leaning her head against his shoulder. “Thanks for the rescue, I think my training is still far from over.”

She grinned. True, she had only had two training sessions so far and had failed at both rather miserably. But two lessons was more than most people—who was to say she shouldn’t have been a little more prepared for the events that had just taken place. “I was supposed to be the one doing the saving, and here it ended the other way around.”

She looked at the daylight still hanging outside, smiling. This needed to be a moment of looking forward, not back at what had made her life miserable. No matter what had just happened…or what kind of poems she would write about Margie later. She pushed the doors open for them, sidling to the side so she and Jaing could both make it out the door since both his arms were indisposed at the moment. “Anyway, never mind them. I only need to drop that box off at the pawn shop.”

The wince on her face was a little hard to hide. She had never brought Jaing to the pawn shop with her, and she didn’t know how he would react to see her give up her things. “It’s just work junk that won’t do me any good anymore. A stolen pen or two from the supply closet.” She grinned, trying to use it to mask her worry that he might not be too happy with the pawn idea. “Did you have anything special in mind afterwards?”

[35]

[MillietheWarrior]

Jaing offered Amala a concerned look, his brows furrowing slightly as he glanced down at her. “I’m just glad to get you away from that place. If those are the kinds of people you work with, then I’m very sorry I didn’t take you away sooner.” He glanced over his shoulder to shoot an equally venomous glare at the office building, already happy to be rid of it. He smiled down at her as she leaned her head on his shoulder, nudging her gently as he raised an eyebrow. “I think its me who should be thanking you. I thought I was a goner before you showed up. That woman was crazy!” he laughed aloud, severely wishing the receptionist could hear his opinion of her now that they’d left her far behind.

They passed a few people on the street, who offered them very strange looks. It wasn’t everyday that you saw a small, white-haired woman walking beside a large, orange and white armored man. Jaing’s helmet bounced against his hip as they traveled slowly towards the pawn shop. “I don’t like the idea of you selling your things,” he said with a soft frown. “But...I guess there’s not much choice. Besides, there isn’t much I can say to stop you from doing it and...” he glanced into the box, lifting it up slightly to see inside. “I don’t see why they wouldn’t want a pilfered pen.” He grinned lightly at her, then his smile dimmed.

“But...You don’t have any pictures in here?” he asked, trying to rifle through the box by shaking it gently. “Do you?” He was curious to know if she did and who they would be of. They had only a few of him and her; maybe two, at best. So who else would occupy a frame on her desk? Maybe her father? Her mother? Did she even have siblings? He wondered at it, but decided he’d ask her a bit later. They were nearly to the pawn shop, only a few more steps to go. “We’re going out for dinner,” he said, glancing at the door of the shop as it came into sight. “Anywhere you want.” he suddenly looked back down at Amala, and frowned. “You sure you wanna sell this stuff?”

[36]

[Kallile]

Amala tugged his arm towards her thankfully, nuzzling into him a little. She couldn’t deny she would have liked to have found him much earlier. But she couldn’t change the past, and the future was still an adventurous mystery. She gave him a cheeky grin. “Most receptionists are—they get lonely only talking to phones all day.” She said jokingly. “You’re probably the most exciting thing she’d seen all year.”

The jokes were at Margie’s expense, but Amala didn’t feel too guilty about that. No self-respecting woman would toss herself at a man like Jaing the instant she was him. Well…maybe she wouldn’t, or maybe most of societies woman weren’t too self-respecting anymore.

She watched him take count of her box, grinning at him still. “Pilfered pens are all the rage, from what I hear.” She joked back, following his gaze into the box despite knowing exactly what was in there. “No…real pictures.” She said, sounding almost ashamed.

“I never liked having my co-workers asking questions about my personal life…so I never really brought any pictures to my desk. Just those cute little ones with puppies, kittens, and adorable saying to try and brighten my day. Nothing I can’t live without.” She looked to him, knowing that answer wasn’t going to satisfy him completely. “My real pictures are the only things left in my house, and I promise that I’ll bring those. It’s only album-full.”

“How about something sweet tonight—I know how much we both love deserts. Maybe some Italian or that little southern-style place a few blocks down.”

She looked at the door, wondering if Jaing might see it as some fortress that should never be entered. She was giving away possessions, after all. Things Jaing had never really been allowed. She could only imagine how that must make him feel. “I’m sure, the stuff at the office wasn’t really anything personal. All stuff I brought with the thought in mind that it may come up ‘missing’ later in the week.”

She pushed open the door, the older man running the counter beamed instantly.

“My best customer! You’ve made me a small fortune, Miss. What can I do ya for this fine evening?”

Amala smiled politely, motioning to Jaing that it was alright to put the box down. She hugged his arm reassuringly. “Evening Albert. Just some office junk, not looking for much for the whole box.”

“A desk starter kit, eh?” Albert said jokingly, looking to Jaing with his kindly old eyes nearly hidden behind bottle-framed glasses. ”Let’s just have a quick look-see.”

[36]

[MillietheWarrior]

Jaing didn’t know how that made him feel. Amala had no pictures; no family, no siblings, no mother or father. Nothing. Just puppies and kittens and little sayings to brighten up her day. He wasn’t sure if he felt bad, or slightly confused. Maybe it was best not to dwell on it. He glanced down at Amala, and nodded slightly. “Either one of those is fine,” he said with a slight smile. “I think you know me too well.” He definitely loved sweets, as all his brothers did. It was one of the things he let himself enjoy in life; it wasn’t as if he could actually get fat.

With a fast metabolism and accelerated growth and aging fueling his body, not to mention the training, fighting, and constant running he seemed to be doing, Jaing hardly gained any weight, unless in muscle. He was grateful for it, though. They stood outside the door and Jaing eyed it suspiciously. he didn’t want to go in; he’d rather just walk to the restaurant and take the box with him. But maybe that was some small voice in the back of his head saying it wasn’t right to give up possessions; he’d never had any of his own, except maybe his armor.

So it felt wrong to give up what you had for something less. But he needed to stop with that; it was Amala’s choice so he’d let her choose it. Sighing slightly, he waned into the dreaded place, and was slightly surprised to see that the man behind the counter knew Amala. But he supposed she’d probably been here enough and sold enough things to be memorable; he glanced down at Amala with a frown, slightly uncomfortable with the man’s scrutinizing gaze. He set the box down on the counter, and stepped back, arms at his sides and back ram-rod straight.

[37]

[Kallile]

Amala’s eyes floated between Jaing and Albert, knowing that somewhere deep inside Jaing already didn’t like the kindly little old shopkeeper. Even if he was just a pawn-man. Albert, meanwhile, took a glance through her box without moving too much. He had seen her in enough to know the general quality of her products and didn’t fuss too much with doing things that might belittle her belongings. For that Amala was grateful for—maybe it would help put Jaing at ease not to see the man pawing all over her belongings.

With a content grin, Albert nodded to them. ”Looks clean and fair as always, my dear. Any particular price in mind?”

Amala shook her head, looking to Jaing. She knew this bothered him, even if he wasn’t going to say anything more about it. It was written in his eyes and on his face, if to no one but her. “Whatever you find fair.” She said. She just wanted to get out of here—it was the last trip she’d even have to make. Albert nodded, and run out something on his cash register. He scooped some credits into a small bag and paused before adding a handful more. Sliding it across the table, he gave a small wink.

”You two have a nice night. And buck up, son, you’ve got a very pretty lady by your side. Material things can never overcome the meaningful things in your heart.” Albert chuckled, giving the wink old men tend to give when talking about relationships. Amala felt herself blush as she pulled the bag of credits into her hands. Albert had toddled off into the back before she could respond.

“Well…” Amala began, trying to think of what to say. “That put me in the mood for some country cooking. And all the apple pie and ice cream I dare to eat.” She grinned at the last, reaching out to entwine her fingers with Jaing’s. “Let’s get out of here…for good.”

[37]

[MillietheWarrior]

Jaing watched the man look over the stuff a bit uncomfortably. He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, clearing his throat as if he really wanted to leave. He didn’t like this place, no matter how kind the old man seemed. He was slightly surprised when the man addressed him however, and managed a wobbly smile, nodding his head and saluting smartly. “Yes sir,” he replied before the old man tottered off to the back room. With that, Jaing easily hooked an arm lightly around Amala’s waist, and practically raced for the exit. Once outside, he took a deep breath, glancing over his shoulder and giving himself a little shake. “That place, no matter how nice that old man was, gives me a bad feeling…”

Jaing suddenly looked down at Amala as if he had just realized she was there, and offered her a large smile. He lifted his arm and opened a small panel on his gauntlet, before typing something in. For a few moments, his face was lit up by a soft blue glow as he typed some unknown code into the gauntlet. After about a minute, he flipped it closed, and grinned at his girlfriend. “Reservations for two,” he said with a laugh. “And we’re lucky; house was booked almost full tonight.” He winked in that mischievous way of his, and held out his arm for Amala to take. “Fear my elite hacker skills,” he said, doing a rather good imitation of Fixer.

He raised his eyebrows, and glanced down at Amala. “It’s only a few blocks away. And I think we could stand a short walk.” A young couple passed by them, shooting them very odd glances, before disappearing around a corner. Jaing watched them go somewhat apprehensively, before an old lady skirted around him, giving him a very nasty glare. Jaing suddenly looked down at Amala, and anxious expression on his face. “Does it bother you to be seen with me?” he suddenly asked. “People always give me weird looks. Is it the armor?” It had never bothered him before; but now it did, because he came to the realization that it might bother Amala.

[38]