Neo Chronicles: Black Void
Episode 37: Where Yo Head At?
Table of Contents
The ship is toe up, an' right now, so is my stomach. I gotta get somethin' t'eat. I head down the way, passin' by collapsin' ceilin' fixtures, sparks, wires, fire hazards, an' alien pirate people. I only got one goal in sight:
The mess hall.
Gotta say, tt's not as crowded as it usually is. Might be the time of day. Might be the fact that most of our crew is either dead or captured. Might be the fact that there jus' isn't much food in here. I dunno. I don't care. I'm hungry.
I head towards the back. There's still a few chefs on duty. That's a relief. I can smell cookin' oil. Somethin's bein' fried. I smell somethin' sweet, too. Is it cake? It could be cake. Well, not really cake. Whatever these guys got that's close t'cake. I dunno. Don't care. There's food, an' that's good enough for me.
It's like a cafeteria. There's an open window separatin' the dinin' hall from the actual kitchen. One of the cooks sees me standin' here with a tray in hand. Dude's got an octopus for a head. He heads to the back of the kitchen with a plate in hand. In about two minutes, he returns t'the window an' hands me the plate.
On it is the stuff I've learned t'accept as food. There's somethin' green on it, somethin' porridgy, somethin' that kinda looks like meat. It's weird, I know, but if I remember right, it's actually pretty good. I happily take the plate off his hands an' place it on my tray. Then I make my way t'an empty table.
I waste no time startin' in on the food, ignorin' the lumpy texture, powerin' through the soupy viscosity, and becomin' relieved when I discover the junk actually got some flavor to it. Somethin' of a spicy kick to it. But it's sweet. Like barbecue sauce mixed with some peppers. This is good.
“This is dren!”
The mess hall has some great acoustics. I can hear every syllable an' word the loud, boastful man from four tables down has t'say. It's like he's standin' right next t'me shoutin' in my face.
“Dyre dren! Look at where we are! Look at what's left of us!”
As I bring my fork in for this bite, my eyes wander over t'the commotion. For the most part, the mess hall is empty, but there's still a good bit of people here. Only a few of them are eatin', doe.
“You've all heard the rumors! We might not even have a captain right now!”
There's a guy standin' on top of a table. He's the one carryin' on like a preacher givin' a sermon. Movin' his hands around, addin' emphasis t'words, speakin' with passion.
“I have to ask, was this the life you pictured yourself having?” He clutches his fist together. The red fins protrudin' from his forearms stand on end. So does the large one goin' from the top of his head to his tail.
He's a fish-man. Or some sorta sea-lookin' creature. Maybe somethin' more of an iguana. Black scales along his body. His front side, startin' from the bottom of his jaw an' goin' down t'his belly is a light beige color.
“I know I haven't! Why are we even here? We're staaking pirates! This isn't anyway to live! And for what? The only reason I signed on was because it was either this or death! Well at the rate we're going, death looks like it's coming our way anyway! And let's face it! If it wasn't for that last botched mission, it would have happened some place else.”
He looks around at the crowd. The crowd intensely looks back, holdin' on t'every word.
“This was never going to be a fruitful life!” He extends both of his arms outward an' asks, “So why bother?”
The crowd starts t'get lively at that last remark. They murmur among themselves. Each of the people're takin' that t'mean somethin' else. The speaker gives 'em a moment, but quickly carries on.
“Listen! Listen! I say it's time we stop this charade. This isn't the life any of us asked for! There's no reason for us to go on with it. I know you feel the same way. You have to. So why don't we stop talking about how much freas whakken we have to put up with and do something about it?”
“You're suggesting a mutiny.” Someone from the crowd speaks out.
“Not even that!” the speaker responds. His eyes turn to meet the person, then he steps back an' looks at all those gathered around him at the table. As he turns, he happens to see me sittin' here, four tables down. Then with his eyes locked on me, he goes on an' says, “I'm suggesting we quit.”
*/
I'm a fly on the wall. As I walk through these halls, people go about their business like I'm not here. This is a good thing. I'd hate t'become a part of their lives. I'd hate t'even know about their lives. But I have to.
Right now we're all livin' in the same space. Their lives an' mine are alike. I need t'know about them, so I can better understand mine. This isn't rocket science. It's all about stayin' woke. I gotta be familiar with my surroundin's, otherwise I won't know what t'expect.
Mom's always said, “Don't walk blind. If there's a snake in the grass, you'll lose your head if its not connected to your neck.”
Okay, quotin' mom on a quote that she butchered ain't the best way t'back up a point, but you get the idea. All I'm sayin' is, I'm payin' attention. I keep quiet as I walk through the halls. An' people go about their business.
“I gotta say, as much mosst as we had t'put up with, I wouldn't trade it for nothin'.”
There's two people walkin' my way. I slow my pace as they draw near. One is like a mutant dragonfly/moth thing. He hovers in the air, four insect-wings keepin' his large, wiener-dog sized body afloat.
“Really? Not that I'm disagreeing with you, but you have to admit: we've had it pretty rough over the years.”
The other dude with him is one all fours. He's moseyin' on like a buffalo. Looks like a buffalo, too. Big, hairy, got two horns juttin' out the top of his head. Actually, his hair isn't hair. As I get closer, it becomes more apparent that his fur is made of purple feathers.
“I hear ya. Trust me, I hear ya loud an' clear, but for me personally? I ain't never hit on nothin'. I'm awkward. I look funny. I was always the outcast. I never belonged anywhere.” Didn't wanna say nothin', but he does look weird. The dragonfly dude, I mean.
I guess his body kinda seems human like. But more like a toddler. He's got two arms an' two legs, but they're kinda underdeveloped. Like the reason he's flyin' is cuz he can't walk. I dunno.
The two stop in the middle of the hall an' turn t'address each other directly. The dragonfly dude continues.
“Even the group of self-proclaimed outcasts who wanted nothing to do with society said I was too weird for them. These pirates were the first people t'actually make me feel like I belonged somewhere. You guys've always had my back. You're my brothers. My family. An' come hell or high water, I wouldn't trade y'all for nothin'.”
I make my way past them. They turn their heads to acknowledge me passin' by, but quickly turn back to each other like it's no big deal. As I walk further away, their voices start t'trail off. I take that t'mean that they're back t'walkin', as well.
“I'm with you on that. A pirate's life for me.”
“To a short an' merry life.”
*/
It's rare that you find me engaged in somethin' with other people. There's gotta be some mutual startin' ground for me t'actually hold or contribute t'anything. But with everything I've heard so far, everyone's got a different take on it, they're comin' up with different solutions t'it. I gotta find out where the people I know stand.
Mera Ven Roew is standin' across from me. I'm slumped up against the side of my table-bed. We're in my room.
I ask her, “So why're you against goin' back?”
Shortly after I made my way back t'my room, Mera Ven showed up. She's been hangin' around me more an' more. I guess it's cuz she feels she ain't gotta front, which is cool I guess. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for people keepin' it real. But I think she thinks that I think we're friends. I don't do friends. Got like maybe one or two of 'em. Everyone else is an acquaintance.
“I have nothing to go back to,” she responds. Her arms are folded. Her voice is light. Her shoulders are relaxed.
“But your family – Wasn't that the whole reason you got into this, t'begin with? Dress up like a dude? Join the cops t'send support? Pay the bills? If you go back –”
“If I go back now, after I've been pronounced dead –” She sighs. “Look, they're likely better off than they've ever been. If I were to go back now, not only would it be hard to explain, but it would also be a long, strenuous process to get undead. Not to mention what would happen when it gets out that I've been a pirate for all this time.”
“Alright, alright. Jus' checkin' t'see if you thought this through.”
“It's been the only thing I've been thinking of.”
There's a pause. Mera's eyes trail t'the floor. She puts her hand over her face an' exhales deeply. Not sure if she's noticed it yet, but she's been gettin' pretty worked up over all this. I jus' asked t'see where her head was at, but it looks like I struck a chord some kinda way.
After regainin' her composure, she lowers her arms an' looks back at me. “What's waiting for you?” she asks.
“What do you mean?” I respond. It's not like I don't understand her question. I know exactly what she's askin', but I need a moment t'figure out what I'm gonna tell her.
See, I'm in somethin' of a tricky situation right now. Now that I know that she has no intentions of leavin', that means her loyalty's gotta still be tide up with the ship – or whatever's left of it. That means I gotta be careful not t'reveal too much. I got her pegged. Now it's in my best interest to make sure she doesn't peg me.
“You've already expressed how little you want to do with us,” she says. “And during the police raid, you made clear that your only goal was to leave as soon as you got the chance. You even tried to convince me of doing the same.”
Crud. I'm already pegged.
“So what's out there for you?” she asks again. “What are you going back to?”
I cross my hands behind my head an' sigh as I look up t'the ceilin'. Inspiration. Reason. Confinement. Reassurance? Does it really even matter?
I answer, “For starters, my way home. I'm lost in space.” I then bring my eyes back down t'her level. “Got accidentally abducted from my homeworld, an' my world ain't recognized or whatever, so it's technically illegal for me t'go back. But I don't even know where it is. Space is huge, an' I've been wanderin' a long time.”
I bring my hands down t'my waist, then decide t'hop up on the bed. My legs dangle off the side of it, an' I'm lookin' down at the floor now. “But that don't matter. I mean, it does, but that's just about how I got here. I know that me bein' here ain't doin' nothin' t'gettin' me back there. Back home. Hidin' on the outskirts of civilization, waitin' for stuff t'come t'you doesn't get you nowhere. You're still in one spot, doin' the same thing you did yesterday.”
I look up at her again, then continue. “Which—don't get me wrong—is exactly the kinda life I'm comfortable with. I hate change. I will gladly do the same thing over an' over 'til infinity, if I'm doin' somethin' I want. But that's not what I need right now. Nah man, I need t'get home.”
And there's the whole killing thing. I mean, c'mon. Pirates? That ain't no typa life for me. I ain't no thug. I ain't no gangbanger. I wanna add that tidbit in, too, but since she's chosen t'embrace the life, I figure that she'll figure I'd be insultin' her. I mean, I totally am, but—y'know—she ain't gotta know I am.
I leave it at that, even though I got a few more things t'say on the matter. But she looks like she's got somethin' t'say. I watch as she opens her mouth, but then we're interrupted by the sound of knocking. We both hear it.
She looks at me with a half-raised brow. I shrug my shoulders. She motions to the door behind her, an' I nod my head. She takes that as her queue an' presses the button by the door t'open it.
Immediately, I hear a buzzin' sound. Fly-like buzzin'. Bee-like buzzin'. No, it's a wasp. It's Rutra.
“Hey man, what's up?” he says. “Sorry for bargin' in like this. We felt like this was the best place to, well, you'll see.”
I raise an eyebrow. Who is this “we?” Then on queue, a big ol' blue, bunny-eared yeti walks in. He has t'hunch over t'get through the door. Don't think this room was made for his size, but Kal-Artang makes due. He turns an' acknowledges Mera in the room. He almost looks surprised t'see her here, but immediately turns his attention back t'me an' Rutra.
Followin' behind Kal is the brown falcon-man, FengRi. He looks outta place. Almost jumpy as he steps in here. I dunno if he thinks my room's got germs he can't deal with or what. Maybe it's the size thing. He's a fairly big guy. Not as big as Kal, but still, he's built, an' this room wasn't meant for havin' too many large sized guests.
Come t'think of it, I'm getting' kinda crowded, too. I ain't movin', doe—it's my room—but the main thing on my mind is lookin' for an out. I think FengRi's the same.
An' finally, we got the skinny ol' walkin', talkin' alien nervous system, Scion. His arm is in a sling. Matta fact, if I remember right, I think he was the one closest t'dyin' in that police raid. Surprised he's up an' at it at all.
“What's goin' on here?” I ask.
Rutra walks up t'me an' says, “Look, it's like this. We've been through Hell.”
I nod an' say, “Yeah.”
“We've lost probably three-fourths of our crew. We're crippled. More than crippled. We're barely alive. Our captain, too. He's gone. More than gone. He's dead.”
“Yeah, it's bad. No doubt, no doubt.”
“And here we are.”
“Yep. We're all right here. True that, true that.”
Kal-Artang groans as he steps up t'me. “Your crew.” He extends his left arm out, motionin' at the folks behind him. Not sure what he's gettin' at, doe. I mean, they ain't changed. I'm still lookin' at him, Rutra, Mera, Scion, an' FengRi. They're still in my room, which I'm still kinda salty about.
I look at him, an' blink. The silent pause grows. I'm waitin' on him t'finish whatever thought he started.
Then it hits me. I look at the people again, then at him. I can feel my expression jus' drop. I stare at him, an' without even thinkin', I say in the most blunt way possible,
“What?”
Episode 37: Where Yo Head At?
Table of Contents
The ship is toe up, an' right now, so is my stomach. I gotta get somethin' t'eat. I head down the way, passin' by collapsin' ceilin' fixtures, sparks, wires, fire hazards, an' alien pirate people. I only got one goal in sight:
The mess hall.
Gotta say, tt's not as crowded as it usually is. Might be the time of day. Might be the fact that most of our crew is either dead or captured. Might be the fact that there jus' isn't much food in here. I dunno. I don't care. I'm hungry.
I head towards the back. There's still a few chefs on duty. That's a relief. I can smell cookin' oil. Somethin's bein' fried. I smell somethin' sweet, too. Is it cake? It could be cake. Well, not really cake. Whatever these guys got that's close t'cake. I dunno. Don't care. There's food, an' that's good enough for me.
It's like a cafeteria. There's an open window separatin' the dinin' hall from the actual kitchen. One of the cooks sees me standin' here with a tray in hand. Dude's got an octopus for a head. He heads to the back of the kitchen with a plate in hand. In about two minutes, he returns t'the window an' hands me the plate.
On it is the stuff I've learned t'accept as food. There's somethin' green on it, somethin' porridgy, somethin' that kinda looks like meat. It's weird, I know, but if I remember right, it's actually pretty good. I happily take the plate off his hands an' place it on my tray. Then I make my way t'an empty table.
I waste no time startin' in on the food, ignorin' the lumpy texture, powerin' through the soupy viscosity, and becomin' relieved when I discover the junk actually got some flavor to it. Somethin' of a spicy kick to it. But it's sweet. Like barbecue sauce mixed with some peppers. This is good.
“This is dren!”
The mess hall has some great acoustics. I can hear every syllable an' word the loud, boastful man from four tables down has t'say. It's like he's standin' right next t'me shoutin' in my face.
“Dyre dren! Look at where we are! Look at what's left of us!”
As I bring my fork in for this bite, my eyes wander over t'the commotion. For the most part, the mess hall is empty, but there's still a good bit of people here. Only a few of them are eatin', doe.
“You've all heard the rumors! We might not even have a captain right now!”
There's a guy standin' on top of a table. He's the one carryin' on like a preacher givin' a sermon. Movin' his hands around, addin' emphasis t'words, speakin' with passion.
“I have to ask, was this the life you pictured yourself having?” He clutches his fist together. The red fins protrudin' from his forearms stand on end. So does the large one goin' from the top of his head to his tail.
He's a fish-man. Or some sorta sea-lookin' creature. Maybe somethin' more of an iguana. Black scales along his body. His front side, startin' from the bottom of his jaw an' goin' down t'his belly is a light beige color.
“I know I haven't! Why are we even here? We're staaking pirates! This isn't anyway to live! And for what? The only reason I signed on was because it was either this or death! Well at the rate we're going, death looks like it's coming our way anyway! And let's face it! If it wasn't for that last botched mission, it would have happened some place else.”
He looks around at the crowd. The crowd intensely looks back, holdin' on t'every word.
“This was never going to be a fruitful life!” He extends both of his arms outward an' asks, “So why bother?”
The crowd starts t'get lively at that last remark. They murmur among themselves. Each of the people're takin' that t'mean somethin' else. The speaker gives 'em a moment, but quickly carries on.
“Listen! Listen! I say it's time we stop this charade. This isn't the life any of us asked for! There's no reason for us to go on with it. I know you feel the same way. You have to. So why don't we stop talking about how much freas whakken we have to put up with and do something about it?”
“You're suggesting a mutiny.” Someone from the crowd speaks out.
“Not even that!” the speaker responds. His eyes turn to meet the person, then he steps back an' looks at all those gathered around him at the table. As he turns, he happens to see me sittin' here, four tables down. Then with his eyes locked on me, he goes on an' says, “I'm suggesting we quit.”
*/
I'm a fly on the wall. As I walk through these halls, people go about their business like I'm not here. This is a good thing. I'd hate t'become a part of their lives. I'd hate t'even know about their lives. But I have to.
Right now we're all livin' in the same space. Their lives an' mine are alike. I need t'know about them, so I can better understand mine. This isn't rocket science. It's all about stayin' woke. I gotta be familiar with my surroundin's, otherwise I won't know what t'expect.
Mom's always said, “Don't walk blind. If there's a snake in the grass, you'll lose your head if its not connected to your neck.”
Okay, quotin' mom on a quote that she butchered ain't the best way t'back up a point, but you get the idea. All I'm sayin' is, I'm payin' attention. I keep quiet as I walk through the halls. An' people go about their business.
“I gotta say, as much mosst as we had t'put up with, I wouldn't trade it for nothin'.”
There's two people walkin' my way. I slow my pace as they draw near. One is like a mutant dragonfly/moth thing. He hovers in the air, four insect-wings keepin' his large, wiener-dog sized body afloat.
“Really? Not that I'm disagreeing with you, but you have to admit: we've had it pretty rough over the years.”
The other dude with him is one all fours. He's moseyin' on like a buffalo. Looks like a buffalo, too. Big, hairy, got two horns juttin' out the top of his head. Actually, his hair isn't hair. As I get closer, it becomes more apparent that his fur is made of purple feathers.
“I hear ya. Trust me, I hear ya loud an' clear, but for me personally? I ain't never hit on nothin'. I'm awkward. I look funny. I was always the outcast. I never belonged anywhere.” Didn't wanna say nothin', but he does look weird. The dragonfly dude, I mean.
I guess his body kinda seems human like. But more like a toddler. He's got two arms an' two legs, but they're kinda underdeveloped. Like the reason he's flyin' is cuz he can't walk. I dunno.
The two stop in the middle of the hall an' turn t'address each other directly. The dragonfly dude continues.
“Even the group of self-proclaimed outcasts who wanted nothing to do with society said I was too weird for them. These pirates were the first people t'actually make me feel like I belonged somewhere. You guys've always had my back. You're my brothers. My family. An' come hell or high water, I wouldn't trade y'all for nothin'.”
I make my way past them. They turn their heads to acknowledge me passin' by, but quickly turn back to each other like it's no big deal. As I walk further away, their voices start t'trail off. I take that t'mean that they're back t'walkin', as well.
“I'm with you on that. A pirate's life for me.”
“To a short an' merry life.”
*/
It's rare that you find me engaged in somethin' with other people. There's gotta be some mutual startin' ground for me t'actually hold or contribute t'anything. But with everything I've heard so far, everyone's got a different take on it, they're comin' up with different solutions t'it. I gotta find out where the people I know stand.
Mera Ven Roew is standin' across from me. I'm slumped up against the side of my table-bed. We're in my room.
I ask her, “So why're you against goin' back?”
Shortly after I made my way back t'my room, Mera Ven showed up. She's been hangin' around me more an' more. I guess it's cuz she feels she ain't gotta front, which is cool I guess. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for people keepin' it real. But I think she thinks that I think we're friends. I don't do friends. Got like maybe one or two of 'em. Everyone else is an acquaintance.
“I have nothing to go back to,” she responds. Her arms are folded. Her voice is light. Her shoulders are relaxed.
“But your family – Wasn't that the whole reason you got into this, t'begin with? Dress up like a dude? Join the cops t'send support? Pay the bills? If you go back –”
“If I go back now, after I've been pronounced dead –” She sighs. “Look, they're likely better off than they've ever been. If I were to go back now, not only would it be hard to explain, but it would also be a long, strenuous process to get undead. Not to mention what would happen when it gets out that I've been a pirate for all this time.”
“Alright, alright. Jus' checkin' t'see if you thought this through.”
“It's been the only thing I've been thinking of.”
There's a pause. Mera's eyes trail t'the floor. She puts her hand over her face an' exhales deeply. Not sure if she's noticed it yet, but she's been gettin' pretty worked up over all this. I jus' asked t'see where her head was at, but it looks like I struck a chord some kinda way.
After regainin' her composure, she lowers her arms an' looks back at me. “What's waiting for you?” she asks.
“What do you mean?” I respond. It's not like I don't understand her question. I know exactly what she's askin', but I need a moment t'figure out what I'm gonna tell her.
See, I'm in somethin' of a tricky situation right now. Now that I know that she has no intentions of leavin', that means her loyalty's gotta still be tide up with the ship – or whatever's left of it. That means I gotta be careful not t'reveal too much. I got her pegged. Now it's in my best interest to make sure she doesn't peg me.
“You've already expressed how little you want to do with us,” she says. “And during the police raid, you made clear that your only goal was to leave as soon as you got the chance. You even tried to convince me of doing the same.”
Crud. I'm already pegged.
“So what's out there for you?” she asks again. “What are you going back to?”
I cross my hands behind my head an' sigh as I look up t'the ceilin'. Inspiration. Reason. Confinement. Reassurance? Does it really even matter?
I answer, “For starters, my way home. I'm lost in space.” I then bring my eyes back down t'her level. “Got accidentally abducted from my homeworld, an' my world ain't recognized or whatever, so it's technically illegal for me t'go back. But I don't even know where it is. Space is huge, an' I've been wanderin' a long time.”
I bring my hands down t'my waist, then decide t'hop up on the bed. My legs dangle off the side of it, an' I'm lookin' down at the floor now. “But that don't matter. I mean, it does, but that's just about how I got here. I know that me bein' here ain't doin' nothin' t'gettin' me back there. Back home. Hidin' on the outskirts of civilization, waitin' for stuff t'come t'you doesn't get you nowhere. You're still in one spot, doin' the same thing you did yesterday.”
I look up at her again, then continue. “Which—don't get me wrong—is exactly the kinda life I'm comfortable with. I hate change. I will gladly do the same thing over an' over 'til infinity, if I'm doin' somethin' I want. But that's not what I need right now. Nah man, I need t'get home.”
And there's the whole killing thing. I mean, c'mon. Pirates? That ain't no typa life for me. I ain't no thug. I ain't no gangbanger. I wanna add that tidbit in, too, but since she's chosen t'embrace the life, I figure that she'll figure I'd be insultin' her. I mean, I totally am, but—y'know—she ain't gotta know I am.
I leave it at that, even though I got a few more things t'say on the matter. But she looks like she's got somethin' t'say. I watch as she opens her mouth, but then we're interrupted by the sound of knocking. We both hear it.
She looks at me with a half-raised brow. I shrug my shoulders. She motions to the door behind her, an' I nod my head. She takes that as her queue an' presses the button by the door t'open it.
Immediately, I hear a buzzin' sound. Fly-like buzzin'. Bee-like buzzin'. No, it's a wasp. It's Rutra.
“Hey man, what's up?” he says. “Sorry for bargin' in like this. We felt like this was the best place to, well, you'll see.”
I raise an eyebrow. Who is this “we?” Then on queue, a big ol' blue, bunny-eared yeti walks in. He has t'hunch over t'get through the door. Don't think this room was made for his size, but Kal-Artang makes due. He turns an' acknowledges Mera in the room. He almost looks surprised t'see her here, but immediately turns his attention back t'me an' Rutra.
Followin' behind Kal is the brown falcon-man, FengRi. He looks outta place. Almost jumpy as he steps in here. I dunno if he thinks my room's got germs he can't deal with or what. Maybe it's the size thing. He's a fairly big guy. Not as big as Kal, but still, he's built, an' this room wasn't meant for havin' too many large sized guests.
Come t'think of it, I'm getting' kinda crowded, too. I ain't movin', doe—it's my room—but the main thing on my mind is lookin' for an out. I think FengRi's the same.
An' finally, we got the skinny ol' walkin', talkin' alien nervous system, Scion. His arm is in a sling. Matta fact, if I remember right, I think he was the one closest t'dyin' in that police raid. Surprised he's up an' at it at all.
“What's goin' on here?” I ask.
Rutra walks up t'me an' says, “Look, it's like this. We've been through Hell.”
I nod an' say, “Yeah.”
“We've lost probably three-fourths of our crew. We're crippled. More than crippled. We're barely alive. Our captain, too. He's gone. More than gone. He's dead.”
“Yeah, it's bad. No doubt, no doubt.”
“And here we are.”
“Yep. We're all right here. True that, true that.”
Kal-Artang groans as he steps up t'me. “Your crew.” He extends his left arm out, motionin' at the folks behind him. Not sure what he's gettin' at, doe. I mean, they ain't changed. I'm still lookin' at him, Rutra, Mera, Scion, an' FengRi. They're still in my room, which I'm still kinda salty about.
I look at him, an' blink. The silent pause grows. I'm waitin' on him t'finish whatever thought he started.
Then it hits me. I look at the people again, then at him. I can feel my expression jus' drop. I stare at him, an' without even thinkin', I say in the most blunt way possible,
“What?”
