She stopped yet again, choking on her words.
I had a hard enough time keeping afloat in a conversation when I was Taylor. How was I supposed to do it as Skitter? What was appropriate, what was expected? I hadn’t figured any of this out, yet.
Yeah, you’re gonna need to learn that if you’re going to hold this position.
I put a hand on her shoulder, and she flinched. I left the hand there, and I measured out my words. “Trust me when I say I have that handled.”
Capsaicin stings to the rescue!
And maybe some dog bites too, if you can get the other Undersiders in on this.
She looked at me, and I gave her a small nod.
Very reassuring.
“God,” she muttered.
Heh. Can’t believe you’re actually doing this?
“Tell me more about them, and tell me anything about your brother that might help me identify him.”
Ah, yes, that would be good to know. Especially if it’s something about his shape, so Taylor doesn’t need to see him to know not to sting him.
She startled, as if shaken from a daydream. She reached into her pocket and handed me a folded picture. It was hard to pin down the kid’s age. He was skinny in a way that suggested someone who was going through a major growth spurt but hadn’t yet filled out. He had large, blue eyes and a snub nose. There wasn’t a hair on his face, and his black hair was spiked so the top stuck up in every direction. Like so many guys, he didn’t seem to know how to style his hair. He ignored the sides and back in favor of overdoing the parts he could see when he looked in the mirror.
Sounds like a bit of a mess, to be honest… at least he seems very recognizable. Although I kinda doubt the Merchants let him spend much time styling his hair.
The boy could have been a tall eleven year old and he could have been a young-looking sixteen.
That’s quite the range.
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