Yu leaned back also.
“I mean …” he tried, “I mean, you can … go … and … watch with her, if you like. But I mean, he is your guide, not your companion, so you don’t have to. But still, if you want … but maybe you shouldn’t. I mean, you can also stay, of course. Here, I mean. In the common room.”
The mask bent and strained to straighten the sentences into something coherent, but behind it the screaming self surged, spilling noise through every crack in its surface; messy floodwater words not chosen but driven, distorted by pressure.
“You should stay here. That would be better. I mean, it’s maybe better if you stay, because … You can wait for food. I mean, I will bring food now. In a bit. You must be hungry. Are you? I am, I mean — I was yesterday, when —”
His beak locked. The unfinished sentence smashed against it, broke like a wave, and washed back into him as brine.
“Sorry. I mean, you want food, right?”
The krynn hesitated. The break in their conversation was a mirror of Yu’s own fracture turned outward. But it was not sympathy. It was recoil, a step back from the torrent of broken noise that he had thrown across the table.
“Yes. Please. Thank you,” the krynn said at last. “And I will see to the selder before.”
“Or maybe after? I mean, eat first?”
“I will go now.” The krynn rose.
Yu scrambled upright too quickly, stumbling into the space between the krynn and the kitchen, clutching at the mask. “I can bring you the food right now. It is already ready. Sorry, I mean, all is ready. All the food.”
“I will see to the selder first and eat afterwards.” The krynn took the paper, folded it and slipped it away, and then stepped around him.
Yu followed, his words pouring over the krynn’s back. “You can get the borman and eat together.”
“We will.”
But the krynn did not climb the stairs. He pushed through the door into the kitchen walkway.
Yu halted, just before the threshold.
Pages:
Pages:
Pages: