Intergalactic Prison

Part 9

My legs hurt a bit from that damned, petulant, little robot! That thing had to be at least a hundred years old and way overdue for service! That or it had a major attitude problem. I wouldn't be thrilled to be a custodian either, but it wasn't like we were overly demanding, what was its fucking hurry?

I massaged my calves and shin and inadvertently looked right at (Y/N)'s boobs, again. Shit! I felt like the creepiest sort of asshole, but those perky globes were at just the right height, damn it! I tried to erase the outline of her nipples from my mind but it wasn't working. I felt like repeated unintentional, clothed tit-viewing wasn't a violation of Juliet's trust when it was truly by accident.

Considering the non-breast portions of (Y/N), she confused me utterly. She was hardly wearing anything, (though I supposed I couldn't really talk- no sweatpants were to be found in my stupid dresser), and I wondered: why? She wasn't coming on to me. She had only manhandled me to prevent me from falling on my moronic ass. She hadn't lingered and made goo-goo faces or the like. If anything, she eyed me a little suspiciously. I figured that the two of us were stuck together in this, so I should try and reach out to her.

Sitting up out of the riskiest boob-to-eye range, I gave (Y/N) my best, non-creepy, fellow-captive-on-a-spaceship smile. It was a new look for me, but apparently a good one, as she smiled back. Sweet! "So, more formally, I'm Andy Biersack. Do you know anything about what we're doing here? I've never really left Earth before." I still couldn't bring myself to casually say, 'have you heard of me, do you like my band, etc.?' It was just too pompous, even for me. I figured, if she had, she'd have said something, right?

(Y/N) averted her eyes, looking raptly at her drink, and shook her head. "I, uh, don't. I, ah... have some experience with space travel, though." I had a funny feeling about her answer. Not so much that she was outright lying, but that she was twisting something, or omitting something. Crapola!

I was really never one to engage in foofy, extraneous wordplay games that were chock full of shit. I am the kind of guy to whip my metaphorical dick out and put it on the table: the end. Naturally, that was exactly what I did, and perhaps not in the most diplomatic way. I realized why I was so cranky shortly.

I groaned in frustration, and (Y/N) looked at me innocently. I sneered at her, getting more pissed off. "Oh come on! I'm in the middle of fucking space, I have no idea what the fuck is going on, I've been kidnapped by who the fuck knows, and you're the only other person here. This is the first time I have a real conversation with you, that's the first thing you choose to tell me, and it stinks like cat shit! I don't believe this!

I stood up. "Kama, is the food ready yet, we're done talking!"

A little door behind the bar slid open. "Indeed, Andy, it is. So are your beverages." A heavenly aroma wafted over, beckoning sweetly.

I went to get my food, and was about to say something rude to (Y/N) about how she needed to get her own damned food and drink, when I saw she was curled up on her chair. She... she might even have been crying. Feeling like an asshole, I set our drinks on our respective food trays, and brought both to where we were sitting, after looking cautiously for errant droids.