Alien Dice Early Days
Lexx took his time. Chel had already finished breakfast as had Stealth. She sat staring at the clock. 4 a.m. It was early, way too early to be thinking. Here she was, about to go off with an alien that had broken into her house and tried to steal her cat,… which he’d transformed into some little pawn for his game. Chel glanced at the cat, who was contently washing her face and whiskers, normally. She was also purring.
It crossed Chel’s mind that maybe if the cat hadn’t spoken, she wouldn’t go. Sure, she loved her kitten, but was she really worth the risk? Who knows what Lexx would do once he had her on his ship. The very thought sent shivers up her back, icy fingers pulling at the darkest possibilities.
The only thing that set her mind at ease was knowing she was usually a good judge of people and Lexx seemed harmless. Actually, he seemed afraid of her. She didn’t understand why. She didn’t understand a lot of what had gone on tonight. For some reason, despite her thoughts, she felt she should go. There was something tantalizing about a trip into space,… Chel’s thoughts trailed off into a giggle. Tall dark space alien kidnaps girl and whisks her off to a romantic interlude. Stupid girly thoughts. It was obvious he had no interests along those lines. So far, he’d been irritating, reluctant and argumentative. And of course, she realized, that attracted her attention. She wanted to know why and that thing known as ‘woman’s intuition’ was kicking in. There was more here than what he was revealing.
“Do I meet your approval now?” Lexx grated, hands in the pockets of the robe as he strode into the kitchen. His voice had a slight condescending tone, but oddly, didn’t seem to have the bite of sarcasm behind it that he intended.
“Yes.” Chel spoke quickly, her thoughts pushed into the back of her head. “Hmm,..” She considered something simple to talk about, hoping for a decent conversation that wouldn’t quickly degrade into another little spat. “How do you speak English so well?”
Lexx walked to the table, looking at the bowl of oatmeal on it. Smelled ok, looked strange, but he’d eaten worse things. “I’m not speaking English.” He responded. Might as well try to speak cordially since she was going with him and it might be better than arguing with her the entire time. “You’re speaking Galactic Standard. A common language.” Stupid humans. He’d read that the ones who shared the common language only USED the common language and thought they were special. He didn’t get it, but felt he had to make it a point that it was a COMMON language and it wasn’t anything special to know it. “There are a few minor differences, but as you can see, it works.”
“Really?” Chel replied.
There was a deafening silence as Lexx stood by the chair and waited for the invitation to sit down. Stupid humans.
“Are you hungry?” Chel felt the words come out awkwardly, unsure of what to say and suddenly realizing she may have made a wrong decision. How did she know he could eat human food and for that matter,… what was she going to eat on the ship? “I meant to ask if you could eat human food and if I needed to bring anything.” She could only ask.
Lexx shifted the chair away from the table with his foot, not bothering to take his hands from the robe pockets and looking down the entire time, not deeming it necessary to look at Chel as she spoke. He would not give in fully. She had to know her place, even if he’d already failed in getting that across. A touch of ego that he was better than this human and should not let her think otherwise bound him to being as aloof as possible.
“Human food won’t kill me.” He sat in the chair sideways, resting his right arm on the back of it. With his left hand, he lifted the spoon in the bowl and studied the goop, stirring it around in a slow circle. “Ingested poisons don’t affect me. I can eat anything, tested it a few times,.. always failed.” The alien mumbled barely loud enough for Chel to hear. “I have rations on the ship. They’re standard and won’t harm you,…” His head echoed what he didn’t say, maybe she’ll hate the rations so much she’ll want to come home soon. Hadn’t thought about that. They’re not the tastiest things to eat.
He lifted the spoon, letting the little clumps of brown goo drop from it back into the bowl. Then, he did it again, playing with the oatmeal in a way that was rather annoying to Chel.
“My cooking is NOT that bad!” After the comments alluding to the possibility she might poison his food or it was just horrible, then watching him examining it, she had to say something.
Lexx didn’t respond to the comment, sticking the spoon in his mouth and grinning at Chel. He couldn’t help it. The grin got an interesting reaction from Chel, who looked at him oddly. “Does that annoy you?” Lexx muttered, the spoon still in his mouth. It wasn’t bad, sweet and with an interesting flavor he didn’t recognize. Smooth. He wanted another bite, but didn’t want to give the impression he was enjoying it.
“Hmpth.” Chel glared at him.
Taking his time, Lexx played with the oatmeal, eating slowly and amusing himself with Chel’s impatient and irritated expression. She wasn’t sure if he was teasing her or just being mean. Lexx studied the glass of white liquid next to the bowl. What was it? It wasn’t water or anything else he’d seen and it had a funny smell. He ignored Chel, who seemed to have run out of things to say as he ate.
Stealth sprawled out over one side of the table, looking equally amused. “It’s milk, Lexx. It’s very, VERY good. Try it!”
Zeta wound his way around Lexx’s chair, trying to see what he was doing, “Milk? Smell good. Zeta have some milk too?”
“Go away, this is for me.” Lexx tilted the glass and swallowed. Not bad.
“Zeta want some too!”
“You already ate, I saw Chel feed you, Zeta!” Stealth growled at the other dice.
“Zeta want milk too,…” Zeta lowered his head pathetically. “Chel get Zeta milk?” He darted around the table and bumped his head against her leg.
“Oh,… all right.” Chel got up, pushing Zeta back with one hand since he was in her way. It didn’t do a lot of good as he hopped in front of her, eagerly waiting for a bowl.