Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
"Father," he said softly, knowing his God would hear, "grant me the wisdom to know when I'm wrong, and the intelligence to keep my mouth shut before I act like an ass. Amen."
Beside him, the girl laughed weakly. "That's a prayer?"
"Mine," he admitted. "I'm sorry, Ingénue. I've been acting just like them. Can you forgive me?"
She said nothing for a moment as he led her back to her home, but he saw her eyes glistening a little too much. It was nearly a block before he heard her sniff softly. He glanced at her and saw her wipe quickly at her lashes.
"Don't tell me I made you cry?" he asked, guilt hitting him like a hammer.
"It's ok," she said. "I forgive you. And, thank you for helping me." Her eyes flicked to him, then right back to the ground. "All of those times, not just this one."
"You still feel like a mess?" he asked.
"Burned out," she corrected. "Do you mind stopping for a minute?"
"Nah. I need a smoke anyway." As he guided her to a bench at the side of the street, Sin chuckled at the way her eyes had darted to his legs, proving he'd surprised her. "It's one vice that isn't against God, Princess. Let me have it."
"I didn't say anything."
"Your eyes did."
She smiled, the crinkles his only hint. "I think you spend too much time watching my face then."
He paused, the pack of smokes in his hand. "Probably. Not like I can see much of it, though."
"I did it again, didn't I?" she asked, sounding almost upset.
"Did what?" He flicked the lighter, listening to the paper burn.
The Ingénue took a deep breath. "I made a socially unacceptable comment."
Sin laughed. "No. You're fine, I just realized that I do spend a lot of time looking at your eyes, because they're all I can see. You aren't exactly oozing your emotions, girl."
"That's a good thing." She breathed in again. "And that smells nice."
His eyes widened. "My smoke? Now that, Princess, is a socially unacceptable comment."
"But it does." She inhaled again. "Natural."
"So, I guess this means I won't have to worry about standing downwind of you?"
"I like it. I think that's the other scent I couldn't identify on you."
"Wait, you've been smelling me?" he teased.
She didn't seem to understand his amusement, though, so she answered honestly. "Yes, I can't help but. You smell like kevlar, carbon fiber, gun powder, and a very nice shampoo."
"Guess I'll keep using the same brand then, since you approve."
"And the cigarettes."
Those creases appeared around her eyes again, and he knew she wasn't saying something. "What else? You're laughing at your own thoughts, and I can see it."
She shrugged. "There's not a word in the English language for it."
"Ok, what about another language? I'm pretty good with Latin."
"You smell like a man." She tilted her head slightly, a gesture he was starting to think of as embarrassment.
"Trying to say I'm sweating like a pig in this armor, huh?"
"No. It simply does not smell like perfumes or electronics. I find it refreshing."
He took another drag on the smoke to give himself a reason not to respond right away. It shouldn't make him quite so happy that she thought he smelled nice. "You realize this is the most you've talked to me since we've been assigned together?"
"Yes," she said softly. "Do you realize this is the first time you haven't acted like you hate me?"
"I don't hate you," he said a little too quickly.
"Ok, then you dislike me an awful lot. I think it amuses my employers, though."
That was an odd thing to say. "Want to explain that?"
She shook her head. "No. Our inside knowledge of the Ingénue Project is restricted."
"Yeah." He sighed. "I can see that. Let's make a deal then. You tell me when I'm out of line, and I'll do the same, before we get offended?"
"I'll try, but I only received minimal training in proper verbal socializing. We're not supposed to talk to anyone."
"Except your handlers?" He tilted his head down to see her face better.
"Even that is expected to be minimal. OutLink wouldn't be pleased to know how often you initiate a conversation."
"Their secrets, I guess, huh?"
She let her gaze shift to the distance. "I am carrying a lot of sensitive information. It is my job."
Sinclair chuckled. "You know, I just have this vision of someone plugging a drive into your skull to ask what color the sky is."
The genius sitting before him made a sound he thought could've been a laugh. "It's usually schematics that aren't matching equations and they need to find the human error, or theoretical problems. You know the recent atomic research that's been on the news?"
"Some dark matter particle?" Sin asked.
Her eyes lit up and turned on him again. "That was mine."
"Holy fuck," he breathed. "That's supposed to change physics, but not everyone agrees with the solution."
"Doesn't matter; it's still right. I proved it nine different ways. It exists."
He dropped the smoke on the ground and crushed it under his foot, then bent to retrieve the filter. "You aren't supposed to tell me that, are you?"
"Not really, but they already released it publicly, so the contract is terminated. I liked that one."
He caught movement at the edge of his vision. "Ok. Well, let's see if you like this one. Time to go."
"How many?" she asked, understanding right away.
"One for sure, possibly a second, and far enough away I'm not worried. Close enough I'd rather not stick around."
She simply reached out her arm, hooking it in his.
Her body felt much more stable than it had been when they'd stopped.
Hauling her along, Sin led her down the street at a moderate pace—which was still faster than she could really handle—trying his best to appear as if he was unconcerned. The genius at his side said nothing.
Maybe working with her wouldn't be so bad. He could admit he was partially at fault for the way things had started between them, but only partially. She still wasn't exactly the kind of person he'd want as his best friend, but it sounded like she had plenty of reasons to be proud of what she did.
Then again, pride was still a sin.
They boarded a train and made the trip back to OutLink, but the conversation never returned to the same comfortable level it had been back there on the side of the street.
He tried to think of something kind to say, but his mind was blank, filled only with images of her striking eyes.
His only interaction with people was either guarding them, the false flirting he did with the employees of the bar beside his place, or interacting with priests and followers of the Legion.
He had no idea what to say to a socially awkward girl—who was at least ten times smarter than him—without sounding like an idiot.
When their train stopped, he helped her up, and she took one step too close, then inhaled. He laughed. "Second-hand smoke is addictive too, you know."
"I know. I still like it." Then she turned for the door.
Sin closed his eyes and prayed to himself. Was this woman trying to make his head spin? Did she have multiple personalities in there? He took her arm and guided her from the train, making sure she didn't trip at the threshold.
At least he'd finally made a little progress.