Chapter 13
ZALIS
“What’s this?” Gemma asked, waiting for him on a bench in the Night Garden.
When he sent her the message requesting her to meet him in the garden, he convinced himself to cancel. Twice. If he did cancel, Gemma would want an explanation and the mortification of that was certainly worse than whatever this was.
Zalis held out the basket like it was a live bomb. “A picnic.”
“I love a picnic, but I meant the getup—the suit,” she said with a soft smile and wiggled her fingers at his courting costume.
“Do you not approve of traditional human courting garments?” Zalis set the basket on the bench. The jacket fabric strained as he moved his shoulders, threatening to tear.
“Do you approve?” she asked. “You look uncomfortable.”
He did not approve. The garments were restrictive. He could not move his arms properly. There were too many layers, the fabric was unforgiving and wrinkled too easily, and a strip of decorative cloth hung like a noose around his neck.
“After viewing several Earth films, I made note of several recurring themes: the courting costume and the date activity,” he said.
“A courting costume,” she repeated.
“You do not approve.” He had spent more time than advisable creating an authentic pattern cut to his measurements and she did not approve. Such a pointless endeavor.
“No, it’s not that. You look good in a suit and tie.”
He remained skeptical.
“Turn around. Let me see.” Gemma twirled a finger as she spoke.
Zalis turned in a slow circle. He felt ridiculous.
“You look good. Really good.”
“Thank you.”
Gemma turned her attention to the basket. “What vittles did you bring?”
“You use an archaic word for comedic effect,” he said.
“Yeah, I guess I did.” She lifted the lid on the basket and made a pleased sound.
“My surprise date is pleasing? I am not seeking praise. I am asking for clarification,” he said while he retrieved the basket. As he bent, the fabric in the jacket tore.
Embarrassed, he struggled to remove the ruined garment.
“Let me help.” Gemma grabbed the sleeve and tugged.
The sleeve tore. She laughed in surprise. He wanted to sink into the ground and vanish.
Finally removed, he flung the cursed thing into the bushes. The garden’s caretaker would scold him, but he did not care at the moment. He needed to take the constricting clothes off.
“I do not understand the function of such useless garments. Especially this.” He grabbed the strip of cloth hanging around his neck, the tie. It was not thick enough to use as a scarf. It was too narrow to protect the shirt from falling food. “It just dangles.”
“I don’t really know the function,” she agreed. She stepped in front of him and smoothed a hand over the tie. “Decorative, I guess. A vestige of a historical item, probably.”
“It is ridiculous.”
“I don’t know, it lets me do this—”
In one smooth motion, she grabbed the tie and wrapped it around her fist, drawing him close. Their lips were a breath apart from each other. She grinned and rose up on her toes, kissing him lightly.
“Seems handy,” she said.
“I retract my statement.” He blushed furiously, the heat of it threatening to immolate him on the spot.
Gemma stepped back, looking thoroughly pleased with herself. “I was promised a picnic.”
He retrieved the basket and gestured for Gemma to follow. He knew the ideal location for their picnic.
“To answer your question from before we got distracted, I like food,” Gemma said. “A surprise involving food is always good, as long as that surprise isn’t food poisoning.”
“I noticed that you have used humor in several vastly different situations. Currently you sound in high spirits, but I cannot always deduce your reception by tone and delivery.”
“I guess I do that,” she admitted. “You’ll know if I’m upset. I’ll be crying or screaming and throwing things.”
Humor again.
Zalis slowed his pace, allowing Gemma to match his speed without struggling. “There is more. I have always had difficulty with tone and understanding the motivations of others, especially when they do not say what they truly intend.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll try my best to be clear. You doing all this,” she said, against wiggling her fingers at him, “the clothes and the picnic, is top notch. Good job.”
“Even I know that was sarcasm, but I am glad this meets your approval.”
The path twisted, leading them to a secluded corner of the garden. Two weeping dewdrops stood on a small hillock opposite each other, creating a natural grotto from their entwined branches. Dewdrop flowers hung between the branches, heavy and fragrant.
Following the ritual he observed in films, he spread the ceremonial blanket on the ground and unpacked the basket.
Gemma lowered herself on the ground, her legs folded to one side. She smiled, taking in the garden. She reached up to touch the dewdrops. “We promised honesty, right? I’m so impressed that you’re trying to do things I like. I really am, but there’s two of us. It doesn’t have to be all about me.”
“I am courting you.”
“I understand that, but I want to do something you like.” In a teasing tone, she added, “Come on. I showed you mine. Now you show me yours.”
“Very well. I will show you mine.”
GEMMA
The picnic was perfect. The setting? Top notch with the gentle glowing plants in the Night Garden. Food? Delicious.
Zalis unpacked a box of fried dumplings.
Then steamed dumplings. At least three more containers.
He listed the fillings, some meat, and some vegetables.
She was particularly intrigued by the custard dumplings that swam in a golden syrup.
It wasn’t a carefully planned menu so much as a repeat of the great noodle incident, where he didn’t know what she liked so he got one of everything.
Fortunately, getting one of everything was exactly what she liked.
“This is like eating a fluffy cloud wrapped around a barbecued pig,” she said with her mouth full. “So good.”
Company? As delicious as the food.
Seriously, they needed to have words about that suit.
The jacket had a corporate raider vibe, which didn’t get her hot and flustered.
The pants loved his ass, but she suspected that all pants loved his ass.
It was a good butt. What made her stumble over her words like an inexperienced rookie was the button-down shirt.
It just wasn’t fair the way he rolled up the sleeves. Criminal.
From his pocket—she called shenanigans, because those pants were painted on and there was no way he was smuggling anything in them other than a choking hazard—he withdrew a bug. A shimmering green bug with elegant wings, but still a bug.
It flapped its wings and drifted up from the palm of his hand.
“What is that?” she asked.
“A drone which I modified.”
The drone drifted up into the tree branches. The wings flashed in shimmering colors against the leaves.
“What features does it have? I bet it shoots lasers out its eyes,” she said. The look he gave her, like he wasn’t sure if she was serious or teasing. He had a hard time telling the difference. He told her that. Right, right. She added, “I’m teasing, but I am curious what it does.”
“Surveillance and tracking. It is a standard function.” Zalis held out his hand and the drone landed gracefully on a finger.
Gemma leaned in to inspect. “It looks like a dragonfly.”
“Yes, exactly. I saw one on Earth. It was fascinating. They can fly in multiple directions, up and down, back and forth, and even hover,” he said, excitement in his voice. “You asked me what I enjoy. I enjoy crafting these.”
“You made a drone look like a dragonfly.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He blinked, as if that question had never occurred to him. “There is no regulation that states a drone must be devoid of color.”
When he lifted his hand, the dragonfly took off. It shimmered the dim light of the garden, catching the glow from floating orbs, like it was designed to reflect back the most stunning aspects of the garden.
She liked it.
“It’s very whimsical,” she said.
“The universe could do with more whimsy.” He sat stiffly, more than the uncomfortable suit could explain.
He’s nervous. He probably hadn’t shared his secret mecha -dragonfly project with anyone before and waited for approval or mockery.
She would never mock him.
“The world needs more whimsy,” she agreed.