Hey everyone! Thanks a BUNCH for the reviews! =) Here would be the next chapter.

“You came home late again last night,” Wikus stated, his tone smug, and Oliver shot him a filthy look over the pile of garbage he was sorting through. Last night was the third time he’d made a random and unscheduled visit to Lesedi’s. This dangerous game of spying on her had been going on for about a month now, which, Oliver believed, was about a month too long to have an obsession with anything, especially a human. He looked toward the side, hoping his other father didn’t hear. He knew Christopher worried for him, and was well aware that Oliver occasionally stayed out very late, but at the same time, he didn’t want his father to even guess that he wasn’t really out scavenging the dumps in the District. He didn’t want his father to worry any more than he had too. Fook, Christopher already had too much on his mind, last thing he needed was news that his only son was wandering around outside the District past curfew.

The elder Poleepkwa was further along from them, contemplating a beaten up computer tower that claimed a few holes in it and was a filthy shade of brown.

“So?” Oliver scowled, flicking his gaze back to Wikus.

“So? Not that it’s a big deal except you tend to come home late on Sunday nights and the occasional Tuesday night, but really, it’s only ever been one night a week that you stay out very late, and you always return with food, but here’s the curious part, and now stay focused…” The hybrid was enjoying himself too much, in Oliver’s humble opinion. “You didn’t bring any food home last night! Which either means you didn’t find anything, and that’s just unlikely because, let’s face it, even I can scrounge up some food around here, or you were doing something other than getting food and I can guarantee you that there aren’t any toga parties in the District to be going to on a Friday night. So!”

“Whatever you’re trying to get at, just stop it,” Oliver snipped, beginning to find a good deal of interest in a crushed soda can. What the fook was a toga party anyway? More curiously: what the fook was a toga?

Wikus didn’t stop it. He gave a big, brazen stretch. The hybrid’s eyes were bright from his good natured teasing. Oliver glanced at him. Wikus made a fine Prawn. The man originally took a good deal of offense at such a compliment, especially when the metamorphosis was about complete, but after a few years to accept his body and Christopher’s love, he now tended to smirk and nod his head with a playful little ‘I’d have to say I give your species a fookin’ good name,’ in response.

“Sooooo,” Wikus drawled, ignoring Oliver’s blunt little order to cease and desist with his antics. “Who is she?”

“She?” Oliver froze, snapping a pencil he’d been placing off to the side for the few belongings he’d like to take home. Mostly they were out scrounging in the dump to find parts for the home or the ship, but occasionally he found a little thing here or there that was worth keeping, very occasionally.

“Or he. Sorry, force of habit. Whatever. It really doesn’t matter either way, you know. I mean, look at your father and I,” he chuckled, tilting his head and studying his son. Oliver fidgeted with the snapped pencil, trying to awkwardly put the two pieces back together. “I mean, that’s where you’ve been, isn’t it? With someone? It’s why you’re even pissier today than you were a few days ago.”

“I’m not pissy.”

“You’re exceptionally pissy.”

“I’m not pissy.”

“On a Pissy Scale of one to ten, you’re about a sixty.”

“I. Am not. Pissy.”

“Your father and I were lying on our mat last night and he actually told me ‘Wikus, you sexy, fookin’ animal you, our son is really pissy recently.’”

Oliver snorted with laughter at the words and ducked his head to try and hide it. Simply imagining his father saying such a thing was ridiculous. In the distance Christopher popped his head up curiously, glancing over to them. Wikus offered a friendly little wave while Oliver stifled his laughs. The elder Prawn gave them a suspicious glance, and then returned to his work, shaking his head and muttering, probably about how ironic it was that he was living with two juveniles, one more so than the other. Wikus chuckled and looked back to Oliver as the youth calmed himself.

“Seriously though, what’s going on? I know hormones are rough, but really now, things are just getting ridiculous.”

“I might be interested in someone,” Oliver shrugged, and then shook his head. “But it’s a big might. I barely know them and most likely, they wouldn’t be interested in me.” He rolled his eyes back some. “I can’t even believe I might consider it. I have no need for a mate right now.”

“So? Nothing wrong with a little fun. Go on a date.”

“A date?” Oliver blinked.

“It’s when two humans go out to dinner and a movie. They talk, get to know each other, occasionally make out. If this mystery sweetheart of yours puts out everything on the first date though, I’d forget it. It means they probably put out to everyone. And you know the rule: when you have sex with someone you’re having sex with every person they’ve ever been with.”

Oliver laughed again, finally giving up on the pencil and tossing it dismissively to the side. Wikus’ idea was charming, but entirely unlikely, and he knew the man was joking anyway. If most Poleepkwa were already so uninterested in romance it was highly unlikely they’d ever be interested in something as simple as a date, a mere chance to get to know one and other. It wasn’t necessary to like the personality of your mate, you just needed someone that could help provide.

Besides, there was too much between he and Lesedi for him to ever consider really being in a relationship with her. He barely knew the girl, she already seemed more or less enamored with her badly smelling male, she was human, and to be perfectly frank: she wasn’t at all attractive to him. He thought. Actually, he really wasn’t sure. If she wasn’t attractive, he wouldn’t continually think about her, he wouldn’t actually seek her out as he’d begun to do. What’s more, he probably wouldn’t fantasize about her as he did. No, there were a few things about her he was certain he liked, begrudgingly. There was her scent. She had pretty hair for a human. She had a vibrant smile, no matter how weird her mouth looked being exposed as it was, or the white, flat teeth.

Yet, fact remained, she was flawed. How could he ever consider a relationship with someone so flawed?

Fook, he shouldn’t even be contemplating it! She was fookin’ human. End of story.

“Are you planning to go out again tonight?” Wikus asked, looking toward him curiously. Oliver shrugged, heaving a sigh, and his father chuckled at the gesture, shaking his head. “Do you and this mystery person even talk much?”

“Not really. It’s more of an admiring-from-afar sort of situation.”

Afar, meaning about ten feet, at the most.

Admiring, meaning masturbating in secret to the sight of her.

Real romantic.

Fook. A whole month of this too. A whole month of lewd voyeurism on his part. A whole month of sitting outside her window when she went to bed, usually around one in the morning after a good bit of reading on her part, though if it was pleasure reading or textbook reading, he couldn’t tell. The girl was home on some sort of break from college, but would be going back very soon. It might be for the better she was away from him, back at her college, even if it was in the area. He didn’t know where she was in the dorms of the college and he hoped he never found out. Things were getting so close, so convoluted and mixed up. He was worried that perhaps Lesedi was getting suspicious that something was going on too, perhaps sensing the presence outside of her window. Last night when he’d arrived, the window had been shut, a first for them.

“You should talk to whoever it is,” Wikus said, drawing Oliver sharply out of his thoughts. He looked toward his father, the hybrid contemplating a scratched CD. “We could probably get this to work. It’s not in that bad of shape.”

“What is it?”

“Classical by the looks. Bloody awful stuff I think, but Christopher would probably like it. You too, come to think of it.”

“I don’t know if I really want to talk to them,” Oliver admitted, changing the topic back to himself, but Wikus flowed smoothly with it, as if bringing up the CD were simply part of the plan to get Oliver to open up. It was possible, in some twisted, reverse psychological way. Wikus was occasionally smarter than he let on.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t know if I want a mate anyway.”

“It’s not about mating Oliver, it’s about enjoying yourself while you’re young,” Wikus sighed, his clicks comforting, but hinting at their own frustration now. Oliver frowned up at him slightly, his brow creased in confusion. “Fook, Oliver, I know it’s all strange sounding, maybe I shouldn’t be pushing human ideas onto you, but you’re fookin’ miserable boy. Chris and I see it every fookin’ day. You’re tearin’ yourself apart over something and I think this mating bullshit is the source.”

“I’m not human. I’m Poleepkwa,” Oliver informed bluntly.

“Right, but not all human things are bad for your kind, our kind.”

The sentiment touched him, but he tried not to show it, looking moodily down to his lap once more. He didn’t know how to explain his problem. He felt above such barbaric, thoughtless behavior. He wanted to be like his father, and yet his father had been rather unhappy until he’d met and developed a relationship with Wikus, a human, at the time.

Maybe the fact he knew he was considering pursuing Lesedi was what was giving him the trouble. She was human. It was frightfully taboo. Fookin’ a human was fine, but actually creating some sort of bond, actually taking that human as a permanent mate? Laughable. Christopher would’ve been mocked out of the District had he declared Wikus his mate when Wikus was still human. What’s more, thus far he hadn’t even gotten to know the girl except the occasional tidbit of information he received before she went off to sleep at night. Everything he knew of her was formed from images in his mind, fantasies. For all he knew, she was probably a real bitch, a real, unpleasant wretch of a female. He wanted a relationship with a human, yet he knew nothing about her and in the meantime of maybe one day learning, he was just being a voyeur, a pervert, giving in to his lusts while occasionally she did the same and drove him mad with the sights and sounds and smells of her.

“I’m a fookin’ mess,” Oliver muttered and Wikus shook his head.

“No. You’re not. You’re young. You’re confused. It happens.”

“I just…” Oliver shook his head, feeling ashamed at himself. “I shouldn’t be like this. I’m smart. I’m intelligent. Why am I so confused? Why am I having so much trouble?”

“Because you’re a kid.”

Oliver jerked his head up, frowning weakly. Wikus reached out, setting a clawed hand on his shoulder, looking kindly up at his son. Oliver wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure what. A kid? He was still a kid. Wikus told him before his experiences were very similar to human puberty. He was growing, supposed to be reaching adulthood soon enough, true adulthood, and yet he’d always thought himself mentally an adult already. It was his body that needed to catch up.

“I just need a break from all of this mess,” Oliver sighed and Wikus smirked, tilting his head.

“I heard old Mosola’s looking for help at the convenience store.”

---

Oliver knew Mosola always liked him, which made convincing the man to hire him as a part time worker at the convenience store he owned all the easier. The convenience store was small and a little dirty, the air conditioning had a small tendency to go on the fritz and the heater never worked, but it was located in an all right neighborhood, there was rarely any trouble, and the locals had long ago accepted the fact Mosola liked hiring Poleepkwa rather than humans. When asked why, Mosola had merely replied that Poleepkwa were hard workers, didn’t give him any lip and that, compared to human teenagers, he rarely caught them lazing around on the clock or trying to steal. The last part was a little skeptical, but Mosola was a firm believer that simply giving Prawns responsibilities helped to let their good nature shine through, and helped to show the rest of the city of Johannesburg that Prawns were not violent, dumb animals.

Oliver found the work menial, but it kept his mind off of Lesedi during most days and it got him out of the District. What’s more, the money wasn’t at all bad, compared to what other part-time Poleepkwa workers were getting.

Oliver looked around the convenience store. It was a healthy size, filled mostly with food and beverages, but there was an aisle with arts and crafts and a few cheap toys that the children liked very much to play with. Mosola worked the counter, since most of the humans still weren’t comfortable with the idea of Prawns dealing with their money. It was well enough, at least this way Oliver didn’t have to actually talk to any of them, except ask the occasional confused looking shopper if they needed any help finding something. He kept the store clean and restocked the supplies.

It was funny, the humans were uneasy with the Poleepkwa touching their money, but they bought food supplies, vegetables and fruits even, things they put inside their bodies, that the Poleepkwa had touched as well.

There was a slightly older Prawn, Gregory, working the same shift as him today. Greg was of an impressive build and, blissfully, already mated to another. He was silent, but surprisingly sharp at times, always making light and interesting comments about the customers that entered. Whether the comments were kind or crude was always up for debate, but they were usually insightful. Greg had been working for Mosola long enough to know when a customer was going to be troublesome and rude, pleasant, or neutral. It was usually Greg’s opinion of the matter that determined whether or not he and Oliver wandered in the back to get some more supplies, or continued their work in the front of the store.

Oliver liked Greg. They worked well in companionable silence and only occasionally had to really say much to each other. If Oliver was in a chatty mood, Greg never had any qualms about listening. What’s more, Greg was better with the customers, so when they shared a shift Oliver usually let the elder Poleepkwa deal with the shoppers, something that hadn’t slipped by Greg’s notice, and something he didn’t necessarily approve of. Not that he minded dealing with the people, he just found it bad work ethics on Oliver’s part, and felt the younger Prawn to be better than that.

Either way, Oliver enjoyed working with the Prawn, and found himself disliking times when they weren’t together.

Today was one of those days. Greg had arrived late, due to some troubles with MNU agents wanting to search his house on bogus charges. They hadn’t found anything, not to anyone’s surprise. The only real crime was the delay Greg had faced. It would’ve been the one day Greg was a little behind Oliver decided to ask an older woman if she needed help reaching something. The lady had screamed and then gone on a tangent about damn Prawns always sneaking up trying to scare the life out of an old woman. She’d made a real scene, and Oliver felt embarrassed for not only for himself, but Mosola, who put his own reputation on the line for the Poleepkwa. Not that the lady sounded necessarily like a credible with her shrieking and fussing, but she was still causing too much of a fuss than necessary, one that drew too much awkward attention.

Oliver figured her death wouldn’t be nearly the tragedy she was wailing about.

“I don’t get it,” he mused to Greg, later in the afternoon. “How can you tell what kind of customer they’re going to be?”

“It’s the way they carry themselves. Body language says it all for humans, they barely realize most of the time that they’re an open book. I could probably tell you a human’s life story, if you give me an hour to watch them,” Greg responded in his usual, soft clicks and growls.

“Give me an example,” Oliver huffed and Greg chuckled, adjusting into a stand from the box of candy bars he’d been setting up on the shelves. He looked about the store, spotting a pretty young woman with tired eyes. She was holding the hand of a little boy and quietly looking through the milk to see which one’s out of date stamp was the furthest away from the present time. She was dressed for the cool weather, and her boy bundled up more than was probably necessary.

“See her posture? She’s totally at ease in this place, comfortable enough to bring her kid here. She doesn’t mind Poleepkwa.”

“This could’ve been her last resort store.”

“With all the things she’s buying? She’s not in a hurry.”

“Doesn’t mean she’s okay with our kind,” Oliver snorted, rolling his eyes. Greg smirked and held up a finger, glancing toward the woman, then back at Oliver.

“I’ll make you a deal. I’ll go up and talk to her. If she gets upset, I’ll mop the floors tonight. But if she doesn’t get upset, you ask the next customer in this store if they need help.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not joking. It’ll build character,” Greg smirked and then held out his hand, watching Oliver patiently. The youth gave a sigh and nodded. Worse thing that would happen would be he’d get a rude customer. Best thing that would happen: the customer wouldn’t need any help. Greg gave his hand a firm shake and then turned and walked up to the woman, his voice a series of polite and charming clicks as he asked her if she needed any help. A warm smile touched her face, and Oliver rolled his eyes.

“Oh no, I’m just looking for the freshest bottle.”

“I can check in the back, if you like,” Greg smiled, pointing toward the double doors that led into the back docking areas. “We got in a shipment this morning.”

“That would be wonderful, Gregory, thank you!”

“Thank youuu!” the little boy perked up, bouncing and waving up at Gregory. “Hello!”

“Hello, Shepherd,” Greg smiled and reached out, very carefully patting the small boy’s head, mindful not to hurt the child on accident. Too rough a pat could very well cave in a small child’s skull. Greg turned and moved back for the doors, giving Oliver a knowing and very smug expression. Oliver twitched slightly, glowering at the elder Prawn as he passed him to head for the back of the store.

“You know her,” Oliver accused and Greg raised his hands in defeat, chuckling.

“I know her.”

Oliver muttered a curse, glancing toward the doors. Next customer, fook. He hated dealing with customers. Like his father, he’d never felt necessarily comfortable in the public eye, especially considering the fact the very thing his family now worked on was probably quite illegal. If MNU ever found out, they would have a field day. They weren’t necessarily introverted, but they certainly weren’t the most extroverted of Poleepkwa either. He trudged toward the front of the store, straightening the shelves on the aisle nearest the door, waiting for the charming tinkle of the bells that alerted them to customers. Mosola was playing some music on the radio, but it was coming out mostly static. It was cooler near the front of the store, with the windows slightly cracked to let in the chilled breeze of summer. The older man was reading the newspaper silently, a cigarette resting in his mouth but it wasn’t lit. The man had long ago given up smoking, but the habit of simply having something to do with his hands, with his mouth, was still hard to break, and he hadn’t bothered to try.

Oliver glanced to the door when it opened with a charming song of bells, feeling the first budding clicks of greeting in his mouth, when he froze, the warm, shuddering smell of patchouli taunting him already.

Fook.

That was just his luck.

Lesedi walked through the front door, dressed in a nice sweater that actually flattered her figure and a pair of form fitting jeans, something Oliver saw so rarely on the girl, yet he usually caught her during the night when she was in sleeping clothes. In fact, he could safely say he’d never seen her during the day. And yet, here she was, at the one place he’d gone in hopes of escaping her and avoiding thinking of her for most of his days. He still took his trip to her house on Sundays, yet he’d begun to avoid the unnecessary trips on Fridays or other days of the week for that matter. It was like restraining a bad habit. Here she was though! He’d been working at this store for three weeks and hadn’t seen this girl once, and conveniently she showed up on a lost bet.

Fook.

Her male, David, walked in close behind her, following by a short black male and wispy white female that stood over the dark youth by a few inches. The four glanced toward him, Lesedi and the black male offering smiles in greeting, while David merely nodded and the other female kept her gaze forward. Greg was right: he could already tell which were going to be pleasant and which weren’t. Oliver shuffled, glancing toward the back of the store, hoping Greg hadn’t yet returned and couldn’t expect it of him to help the newcomers, but sure enough the elder Prawn was there, handing the female with the small child, Shepherd, a jug of milk and giving Oliver a pointed look.

Slowly, Oliver turned and looked back to the four, walking slowly forward, each step unbearable slow and far in his mind. If only they could just turn around and leave, just decide that they didn’t really need anything and it was a fluke they’d walked into the store at all. Lesedi’s back was turned to him, and the sight of her in sunlight was fascinating, strange. Her hair was brilliantly highlighted in the false light of the store, looking soft, a vibrant mass of dark curls. They were down and coiled about white flesh. Oliver moved slowly closer, until the scent of David became uncomfortably potent and he stopped a few feet from the group.

The black male sensed him first and turned to look up at him with open curiosity and a pleasant smile. The others followed, with varying degrees of excitement. Lesedi looked just as welcoming, while David’s expression was less than thrilled, even disgusted, along with the pale female. Oliver took a deep breath, and then ventured forward with the question.

“Can I help you find anything?”

“Sorry, didn’t quite catch that,” David smiled, leaning forward. Lesedi blinked and shot the male a filthy look, her eyes narrowing. “Could you try speaking outside of a bunch of clicks and grunts?” The pale female giggled, biting down on her lower lip, and Lesedi scowled more, hitting David firmly in the side with her elbow. He cringed at the gesture, rubbing sorely at the spot.

“Shut up, David,” Lesedi snapped, and then looked up toward him, placing a warm smile on her face. This close, he finally saw there were a few freckles dotting her face, especially over her nose, and her eyelashes were thick and as black as her hair and eyebrows. A few of them were curling in the wrong direction, and unlike the pale female, lacked in sticky makeup. He did notice dark ink beneath her bottom eyelashes, eyeliner. Human females were strangely partial to such bizarre things like makeup. “Actually, we’re looking for some markers and poster board. Do you carry any?”

“Aisle 5,” Oliver nodded. David rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. The black male grinned playfully, poking Lesedi in the side.

“We didn’t need to ask for where it was. They’re right over yonder.”

“Ah, Mndeni, just like you men, never want to ask for directions do you?” Lesedi teased good-naturedly and Mndeni laughed.

“Listen to that Prawn, you going to let her talk about our gender like that?” David asked, then paused and smirked meanly. “Oh that’s right, I forgot. You itty-bits aren’t all male, are they?”

“David, shut the hell up,” Lesedi gasped, her face flushing brightly with shock at his words and probably embarrassment her male said them at all.

“Low blow man,” Mndeni frowned, wrinkling his nose in disapproval. “Seriously, how about you wander that-a-way and go look at colognes?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, it’s just a Prawn.”

“If you’re interested, we have a sale going. Based on your present scent, you might like it,” Oliver intoned gently, tilting his head as politely as he could. The humans looked up at him curiously and he paused a moment, then smiled as kindly as he could. “It’s called Eau de Pompous.”

Lesedi’s lips parted into a smile and she bit down on her lower lip firmly, turning as if to regard something and coughing out a laugh. David’s face pinched up and red blotches appeared on his cheeks. Oliver took a slight step back, certain he’d crossed a boundary, and it was obvious as David pushed forward, lips pulled back in a snarl to expose white, flat teeth.

“You got a fucking problem Prawn?” he snapped, poking Oliver sharply in the chest. Before Oliver could respond with another snide comment, or more likely a meek one to avoid confrontation, Mndeni put himself between the two, pushing back on David while Lesedi frowned up at him disapprovingly.

“Stop it, man!” Mndeni ordered, pointing toward the back of the store. “Why don’t you just wait the hell outside? We’ll get what we need.” David opened his mouth to argue, but Lesedi beat him to it silently, pointing angrily at the door. He pinched his face up again, before giving in to his female’s demands, turning and stalking angrily for the front door, the tall, pale female following after him. As he reached the end of the aisle he raised his arm, knocking cans off of a shelf. They fell with a loud clatter and a few of them burst, spraying tomato juice on the white floor. Oliver sighed slightly, but was relieved to see David go. He moved forward to pick up the cans, surprised when Lesedi and Mndeni bent down and started doing the same.

“Here, we’ll get that,” Lesedi soothed, piling a few of them into the crook arm. This close to her and without David around, Oliver could smell her fine, and it was intoxicating. Her hair fell over her shoulders in a dark curtain, tickling over her cheeks, her chin, her neck, her breasts. He tried to pull his eyes away, but the simple fact he’d never been this close to her before. Fook, it was like torture. Lesedi continued, peering up at him shyly and he quickly averted his gaze from her body. “I’m sorry about him, he’s an asshole sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” Mndeni smirked, raising a dark eyebrow. “Try all the time.”

“I have had pleasanter customers,” Oliver muttered. He hesitated, and then glanced shyly toward Lesedi once more. “I haven’t seen you here before.”

“Oh, I usually drop in on Sundays.”

That figured. Sundays he took off to spy on her.

“It’s the only place I do my shopping at.”

“Mr. Mosola is the only man around here that allows Poleepkwa to work and shop at his store. So our tolerance group is boycotting all the other ones,” Mndeni explained as he placed some of the cans onto the shelf.

“You’re in a tolerance group?” Oliver asked, trying to make the question multidirectional, but focusing on Lesedi as he did so. He knew she was, but she didn’t know that he knew she was, at least, as far as he knew. The girl nodded her head though. “And you are in a relationship with someone that does not hold your same values?” She paused at this question, looking up at him, a vibrant blush finding its way onto her cheeks that looked, surprisingly nice, compared to silly as it did on most humans. Oliver found it so very funny that blood rushed into human faces so easily, and most any emotion they felt could cause it, from embarrassment to anger to joy.

“Well… I…”

“He got you there, Lesi,” Mndeni smirked, tilting his head to look up at Oliver. He paused in picking up cans, talking with his hands and gesturing to Lesedi as he spoke. “See? I’ve been telling her the same thing. Drop the chump. First it’s: oh no, I couldn’t possibly. He’s such a sweet guy! Who else would date me anyway?” The male took on a falsetto tone at the words, clasping his hands together and pressing them against his chest. “And then it’s: Oh, but maybe he’ll change! He just needs to get to know them better! And now it’s…” Mndeni looked toward her expectantly. Lesedi’s lips were twisted into an amused grin and her brows raised high.

“Now it’s: gee, I’m starting to wonder the same thing,” she said wryly, rolling her eyes and picking up the last can, returning it to the shelf. Oliver stood with them, smirking slightly at the idea of her ditching the foul smelling human. She turned her head, smiling up at him. “Anywho, art supplies?”

“This way.” He sidestepped the mess on the floor, figure he would get it later, or Greg would. Either or, neither of them much cared. He showed the humans to the smell section of art supplies, Lesedi grabbing some cheap paints and markers while Mndeni picked out poster boards. “What are these all for, if I may ask?”

To say he was surprised at how easily they were conversing would’ve been the greatest understatement in Oliver’s life. It was coming so naturally, almost too naturally. Perhaps this was all a dream, a wild and fantastic dream. If he reached out and just touched her, it would be complete. Or maybe he didn’t need to stop at just touching, perhaps he could pursue it, see just how far this dream, or perfect reality, would let him go.

“We’re having a food drive, for the Poleepkwa,” Lesedi said. “A few of the local churches are letting us set up donation boxes, so hopefully we’ll get some good stuff.”

“That’s very kind,” Oliver murmured, fixing the young woman with a warm gaze. He watched a minute flush touch her cheeks and could imagine her heart beating faster. Her scent grew heady and warm and she meekly turned back to the shelves, grabbing a few more boxes of markers. Was that…arousal on her? Had the look actually caused the slightest of reactions from the woman? “Would you like help distributing the food?”

“Actually, we could use a spare set of hands,” Mndeni brightened from his position kneeling by the posters, glancing up at him. Lesedi nipped her lower lip and nodded her head in response, grinning very timidly up at him.

“I’d be happy to help,” Oliver informed smoothly. “My fathers would also.”

“Sure!” Lesedi turned to face him again and he watched her posture open up to him, her shoulders pressing back and her face losing its veil of shyness. “We’ll be having it in late July, after we’ve collected a few more non-perishables. I-I’ll give Mosola the exact date and time when we figure it out, and he can give it to you.”

“It sounds like fun.”

“It really is! Most of the Poleepkwa are really friendly and we always have a good time just getting to know the community of the District better.”

“As long as Adam doesn’t show up,” Mndeni stated, rising into a stand and setting a hand on his hip, the other holding a few posters of various colors. “He did last time, lucky you weren’t there for it. Harassed a bunch of us.”

“Adam?” Oliver tilted his head curiously, but already had a feeling of who they were talking about. Still, he could hope perhaps it was a human that was giving them trouble, and not one of his own.

“A Poleepkwa,” Mndeni informed. Ah well, so much for hope. “He’s one of the smarter ones. Christ, that sounds mean for the rest of them.”

“It’s true though,” Oliver shrugged. “Most get by on simplicity. It’s not a bad thing.” And it wasn’t, he supposed. They weren’t stupid, just simpler. They didn’t mull escape plans like his fathers did and they didn’t contemplate how to get back at the humans, like Adam did. They just lived life the way the cards were dealt to them, rolling with the punches. Greg was that way. He wasn’t a stupid Prawn, rather intelligent in his own, deeply intuitive way, but he couldn’t rattle of laws or facts like Christopher could and he certainly wasn’t a schemer. He was just Greg.

“In any case, Adam’s a real bastard, for any species,” Mndeni declared with a roll of his eyes.

“Maybe we can get a few guards to look out for him,” Lesedi joked, rolling her eyes. She looked back to Oliver, her expression a warm smile that left his heart fluttering and his knees feeling unusually weak. He adjusted his weight, suddenly wishing he was wearing nicer clothes other than the threadbare shorts and the few wrappings around his arms, legs and feet. “Anyway, the two outside are waiting. I— we’ll, see you later…”

“Oliver,” he smiled, hesitating before he held out his hand. She paused, and then a tiny coy smile curled onto her lips and she balanced the markers and paints in one arm, reaching out and catching his hand.

“Lesedi.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

It was shocking how small her hand was compared to his, and as they shook he studied the difference. It was so fragile, so small. He felt he could break her by simply looking at her hard. No wonder David was so hesitant of roughing it up with her. Oliver would be hesitant too. Would he ever be willing to try it, all for the sake of pleasuring her? He frowned slightly, considering this girl, her small, daring little stature, her hesitant boldness. Yes, he supposed he would. If it meant pleasing her, he could try, and he damn well knew he’d enjoy it himself, simple nature demanded he enjoy it. He turned his eyes from their hands, studying her face. It was still shyly open to him, her lips set into a meek half smile and her eyes brimming with some strange emotion he didn’t dare place as interest.

“You guys can let go now,” Mndeni snickered and the two blinked, and blushed, pulling their hands back sharply. Lesedi gave a nervous laugh and awkwardly fumbled with the markers and paints, returning them to both arms. Oliver rubbed at his shoulder, antennae flattening against his skull as he ducked his head.

He watched as the two humans went to counter and paid for the supplies, Lesedi passing him a small wave out the door as she went, her expression still of that uncertain curiosity. He had interested her, somehow, and he wouldn’t dare let it pass. Fook, he’d just met the girl he’d been obsessing over for over a month now. Met her, talked to her, and touched her. She’d been close enough to easily embrace. Oliver felt Greg walk up behind him and pause, the elder Prawn thoughtfully crossing his arms and watching the humans go, before he pointed toward Lesedi.

“She’s open to experience.”

“Shut up,” Oliver muttered, grinning toward Greg.