Panoptic

Panoptic - Chapter 11

 Imagination and fear would have painted him as a husky eight foot terror, with shark's teeth and troll hide. He was not troll-born. If any mythic creature had played a part in his ancestry, it was most likely a boggart. The crewman who stood blocking their escape wore what would have been a neat, crisp white uniform on a man with the right proportions, but as he lacked the square shoulders and the long arms and legs, as he, in fact, had a shape best described as a potato with twig limbs and a grey, sardonic face with sagging jowls and salt and pepper hair that looked like the spines of an aged, balding porcupine.

"Whaddya think y'r doin'?" he said, in a voice that contrived to both rasp and warble.

For once in his life, Soro had no idea what to do. He'd been acting under a tremendous strain, spied on, hunted, and now betrayed by Squizzle, his constant companion, the one man, guy... The one dude monkey in his life he could always rely on. And then, to be accosted by this weird, weird little man, like a creature out of a horror story, it was more than he could deal with.

He stared at the apparition, his jaw sagging, his hands grasping at the air, as if he could pluck a story out of the dry, recycled air.

Arima had no such problems. She spun around and wrapped her arms around Soro, clamped her lips to his, and gave him a kiss that did not belong in church. He stiffened at first, and then, as he felt her warm, firm body press against him, he began to experience feelings he had neither expected nor planned for. He didn't want to take advantage of her, but he had to trust her intuition, and act the role she'd handed him. He wound one arm around her back, and one hand came up to stroke her hair.

She leaned against him, pushing him back against the still open door, and their combined weight closed it with a snap. Then she continued to ravish him.

After a pause, the crewman cleared his throat.

Arima unwound herself from Soro with exaggerated care, gave him a grin, and tapped the end of his nose before she faced the crewman, her face flushed, eyes wide. "Oh, hey, good... When's all the karaoke?"

Soro knew something was off the moment she spoke. In truth, he'd known as soon as she'd clasped her arms around him, and clamped her lips to his. But when she spoke, it was different. Her words came out slurred, with a wavering edge that suggested she was on the verge of giggles or hysteria. She stood with her weight on her left foot, and put an unsteady hand out to support herself against the wall.

The crewman frowned suspicion at her and then at him. His brow knotted and his lips pursed, uncertainty written on his face.

Arima leaned forward and touched his chest. "Aren't you the cute one," she said. In the same motion, she reached back with her left hand, concealed by her body, and prodded Soro.

He jumped, and then began to sway himself. "Join us," he said, affecting an extreme southern twang. "We got the best of the King, all the day and all the night."

The potato shaped crewman shuddered. "Why do I allus get the crazies, every single time?"

"Crazy for karaoke," said Soro, gaping a grin.

"I don't have time for this infantile idiocy. If you two want to pickle your liver, fine, but don't do it outside my office!"

"...You mean this isn't the karaoke bar?" said Arima.

"Get out of here! Just go down that- Oh, forget it, you'd probably pass out and choke on your own vomit. You're supposed to do that sort of thing in the passenger areas! Go this way. Go, go!" He herded them back the way they'd come, and when they got to the final door, he didn't bother to say goodbye; he just shoved them out, and slammed it shut.