“Dinner?” Basimontin offered. He was standing in the doorway of the closet that was serving as Genique’s temporary office, leaning, actually, possibly posing.
“Dinner?” She blinked at the stack of data pads. “Yes, dinner. Let me just get this data to First Mate Clyd, and I’ll be with you.”
“Clyd’s already at dinner. Here,” he tossed her a key. “Lock it up and report it to her tomorrow.”
“But she said…”
“Did she say she wanted it done today?”
“She…” Genique shook her head. “Just that she wanted me to handle it before she sent me to the Pit.”
“And you’ve been working since breakfast?” He shook his head. “You’re either crazy or really dedicated.”
“Or want to figure out the system so I don’t end up working here until my grandchildren are dead.” She was being shorter with him than the poor boy deserved. She rubbed her eyes. “Does that dinner come with something caffeinated?”
“There’s coffee, but will you sleep?”
“Who’s sleeping? I’m not done yet.”
“You are. Come on, dinner. I’ll buy you a beer.” He took her arm to guide her, then, embarrassed, dropped it like it was on fire. “Sorry, ah…”
“No harm, no foul.” She locked up the office, tucking the pad she’d used for notes inside her jumpsuit. “Maybe you can help me figure out how this place works.”
He tilted his head and studied her. “The official stuff or the unofficial?”
“Both.” For the first time in hours, Genique smiled. “You’re pirates, after all.”
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