Chapter 19
Misty
He didn't know. He genuinely had no idea.
Misty considered the possibility that he didn't know, but she had been so absolutely sure that he had to have some kind of notion of romance. Some type of source that would tell him to at least talk to the object of his affections.
But no. He didn't. No parental examples, no friends exchanging stories, no movies to fantasize relationships – he didn't even have his own experience. She certainly didn't count scheduled liaisons to be some kind of romantic entanglement. Even just the way he spoke of them sounded so dry, like he was taking his car to the cleaner or discussing a dental appointment. It was just something he did to satisfy a need, but now that he had her, he had ended all of those appointments – to borrow his word.
Misty had to just stare at Tsok’s furry, feline face, digesting the understanding that he had no idea, at all, of what he was doing. He brought her flowers as a traditional courting gift – which sounded exactly like the sort of language she read in her pamphlets about the kreecharma.
She tried to think of it like handing a middle schooler advanced calculus. Something he had no concept of understanding, or even trying to understand because he had never seen it before. That, except about love and romance.
So, if he knew absolutely nothing, then she couldn’t just expect him to figure out even the most basic of things. Only what he had been told, and what he had learned from his own people – as scant as that knowledge clearly was.
And what she knew of his people…
The kreecharma lost their minds when they mated. It was scent based – that was why they all wore nasal filters. The males took one whiff of their mate and they became a mindless, rutting, breeding machine determined to claim their female no matter what. A fate that his people actively fought against because, in that scenario, it was impossible to get consent from either party – because the females weren’t immune to the insane rush of sex hormones either. As far as Misty understood, it didn't make the females primitive and thoughtless like the males, but it did make them so horny that all sense just flew out the window. In both cases, you could make the argument that they were incapable of providing consent. And since no consent could be given, it was better to fight against it.
Do it for Her – they said, reminding themselves that they needed to protect their females from their own, terrible, base urges.
And Tsok had been waiting, patiently, for her consent to approach this entire time, without once pushing or questioning her – not including the messages to attend the parties with him. Something that was work related, absolutely not romantic.
In that light, she could just blink at him, stunned at the realization.
“You’ve been waiting… this entire time?”
He looked confused by the sudden change in her, by the seemingly random question, but he inclined his head once, in a rough mimic of her nodding. “I have.”
“That’s so… sweet…”
“What?” He blinked.
Misty laughed, a smile pulling at her face. “I can’t believe you’ve been waiting this entire time just to make sure you have consent to approach me.”
“I… er… Why is this suddenly a good thing?”
“It’s not! It’s a ridiculous thing, you absolute dufus!” She laughed harder as he continued to look at her with an odd combination of relief and confusion at the sudden change in her behavior. “I can’t believe you did all that! That’s the sweetest, stupidest damn thing I’ve ever heard!”
“Erm…” He hesitated. “Okay.”
“Tsok.” Her laughter faded as she looked him square in his eyes. “You absolutely have my consent to come talk to me. To send me messages. To comm me if we both have free time.”
He blinked at her once before his expression and body both relaxed at the same time. “I do?”
“Yes. You absolutely do. That is the dumbest, kindest, silliest thing anyone has ever done. Just waiting on me for tendays on end like that.”
“It seemed like the right thing. Enthusiastic consent is highlighted in the pamphlet.”
“Yeah, but that’s for sexual stuff. Not just talking. No one can tell you not to talk to me.”
“You can.”
“Aw…” She melted a bit by just how quickly and easily that came to him. And she honestly, truly believed if she told him to fuck off, he would fuck all the way off and not return until he had her express permission to do so.
And wasn’t that a hell of a thing? Cute and stupid, but absolutely endearing.
Turning back, she began tying off the braid. “So, you really have no idea how to romance a lady. Like, don’t even know where to begin.”
“I admit, I do not,” he said slowly, still watching her. “I have been reading the human experimental data to try to find hints. It told me I should bring you flowers.”
“Which is very nice. Thank you.”
He reared back. “You thank me for this? Surely, such a small thing is not worthy of thanks. Besides, I must confess, I did not think of the idea on my own. I had to be directed to do it.”
“Yeah, but you still looked up what you needed to do. And even if you got it horribly wrong, and you did, you still tried. That’s the sweet part.”
“I… oh…” His expression cleared. Like he was finally understanding something. The next look he gave her was more confident. More assured.
“Does this mean you are no longer angry at me?”
“Absolutely not what that means. I’m still definitely mad at you.” She finished securing the braid and grabbed more fur cream, spreading it over the finished piece. “I just think I finally understand the boneheaded thoughts in your head a little better. That’s all.”
“I’m confused again.”
“Yeah, seems to be a common problem with you.” She sat back, wiping her hands on her apron. “There. You’re done.”
He lifted his arm and they both looked at what she had made. Misty wasn’t even sure what she had been doing, her hands just moving on their own volition. The result was like a recording of their conversation in the braid that went up the length of his forearm. A stiff, straight start running in an alternatively looping and loose pattern or one with tight, sharp turns. The resulting braid didn't really have a theme or a direction. It was rough and not really pleasing on the eye, but she wouldn’t call it ugly.
Just… realistic.
Tsok lowered his arm after he finished inspecting it, looking right back into her eyes.
“Do I still have your consent to seek out your presence and speak to you?”
She couldn’t help but snicker. She’d never met someone so concerned with her consent – to the point it seemed like overkill. But she could appreciate better what was happening now.
“Yes. You have my consent to talk to me,” she said, very deliberately. Making sure that no one could mistake what she meant, since it was obviously extremely important to him.
He gave her a relieved smile. “Wonderful. I’m glad we have come to a new understanding. So I understand, do you want me to ask before I advance our relationship any further each time? Or do you want me to wait until I receive permission?”
Misty was leaning onto the arm of her floating chair, grinning as she rested her chin down onto her palm. Grinning at him. At how ridiculous this was.
She was still angry with him. She still thought it was absolutely ludicrous that he was totally okay with ignoring her – up to and including her near death experience – but it felt like she had just cleared something. Like the moment her throat had cleared after her allergic reaction. It wasn’t a fix to the initial problem, but it was a relief on pressure that had been crushing her.
The relief was a tired one. Not the kind that made her want to ask more questions. Instead, she just wanted to bask and enjoy this feeling for a while until she recovered some more.
“I think I’d prefer you be able to read me without me stating everything outright,” she said. Then, before he could express his confusion, she continued, “But I get now that you have absolutely no idea how to do that. So, until you figure it out, yes, you can ask me.”
He nodded once. “As you like, my Misty.”
“Nope. You don’t get to claim me yet.”
He inclined his head in understanding. “Just Misty then. For now. May I continue to invite you to work events?”
“Yes. That’s fine,” she waved him away. “As long as that’s not the only thing you do.”
“May I have a date with you?”
“Woah,” her eyes went playfully wide. “From consent talking to me right to asking me on a date? Increasing in leaps and bounds, aren’t you?”
He chuckled, leaning in towards her. “I may not know anything about romance, but I do know sarcasm, little karata .”
“I’m just going to assume that’s a sweet and lovely term of endearment,” she said, not recognizing the word. It was likely included in the language imprint initially, but it must have been one of the words she didn’t permanently impress into her memory, or one of those that simply didn’t stay.
He grinned. “It’s a flower. Actually. One with extremely sharp petals that refuses to be plucked or disrespected.”
She chuckled. “I like that. I’ll take it. Yes. You may take me on a date, sugar.”
“Sugar?”
“Short for sugar daddy.” She grinned, standing. “They have that here on Kree?”
“I don’t think we do.” He looked confused but not displeased. “But I’m not your father.”
“Daddy doesn’t mean father,” she smirked. “I can’t wait to see what you plan as a date, honored char. It better be a good one too, because I’m still mad at you.”