Ngoc Chau does not own District 9.

I'm holding the next chappie hostage! Unless you want to see it in a full complete piece with the grammer still attached, the spelling in good shape, and it not having already lost a good fluffy part or anything, I want a ransom of at least 10 reviews for this one. You won't see the next chappie in good shape for a long time if I don't get me those reviews!

.....Nah, I'm just kidding! 3


...... No, seriously, I'm just kidding with you guys. :3;3

OR AM I?!!


review please.

Fumnanya did in fact come back again tomorrow to his surprise. It turned out that she was also true to her word whenever she said everything. She wore almost the same thing she had yesterday except in her hands were a large paper bag that took up about half her torso volume from her shoulders down to her waist. In her other hand, she tried hard to support a cup that he could smell from practically a mile away. The aroma was bitter and his mouth parts furled and unfurled at the scent of it pinching his alien type nostrils.

As she walked into the District with the familiary butcher next to her and his arms just hovering around her, Christopher wondered if he should go to the entryway into the District to walk her in. Suddenly the memory of when she came back the second time and gave him the red jacket that he now wore faithfully -because of the insulted expression she gave him when she saw him without it- came back as he recalled the same shy and fearful expression on her face again.
On that day when they had walked side by side, only seperated by thin metal and barbed wire, she had told him that she was scared of non-humans, of going into District 9. Her first time when she had brought him the cat food had not been a moment which would compell her to come back within the fence in militerized area. She had been too scared to enter into the District with him even though he was there, and it was only when the butcher was with her that she had willingly come back again.
He wondered if she really did think of him as harmless or was still frightful of him turning on her and tearing her limb from limb. He stood yards away from the gates.

It was too early in the morning. Too early that so very few were out to eat and even fewer were out to watch and... be. The District 9 prostitutes were already walking up and down alongside their pimps and boyfriends or purchasers.
The Nigerian butchers came out with carts full of raw goat and cow meat, along with a a box of cat food encased in a blue-paper wrapped can. The skies were of the dark blue, the moon still apparent in the skies with the orange sun of Africa just peaking through the tall skyscrapers that greatly populated Johannesburg. He watched her as she strided so gracefully in the dirt and trash. It was so different he realized, to see her again at this hour. His vision was still blurry from fatigue and it stung to try and keep it open.

But he couldn't stay asleep because of the resident rats that found themselves scurrying about in the slums. It was not enough eating them for when one was gone, 2 came back to take its place and so on. The taste of rats was undistinguished and nauseating; having almost no flesh on the bones and only wiry tendons and muscles on the minute limbs. They tasted as though they had been soaked in the foulest things ever, worse than bones or compost. He hated the taste of them. If they tasted better or were a bit more stocked in meat, then he wouldn't have minded the extra company. Aside from the bad taste, they had the nasty habit of chewing his wires that he was using and so he would have to find more wires as back up and something big to smash the rats.

The thought of her saying that she would come back tomorrow actually had him curious to see if she would follow through with what she wrote. She did indeed. It was odd to see her so awake like she was when he first saw her as to opposed yesterday when her gazes were cold and drained of life like she could've just dropped in the dump and slept there if she wanted to. Compared to everyone, she was wide awake and her movements, even the stillest, seemed more static than if the man next to her would've run or something.

She waved to him and whistled something that was quick and brief.

He assumed that she probably meant it as a greeting to him.
"Hi." he said to her, waving his arm tiredly as the elbow stayed glued to his protruding hip. She skipped over a few pieces of trash, her smile looking so bright -brighter than yesterday when he had thought that she would drop dead. She stood in front of him as he sat resting tired on a large concrete chunk that he was using as a makeshift bench, wires were tangled and twisted in his 3-tentacled hands. Her eyes were clear to see with her hair tied back out of her face; they widened to a familiar expression of surprise as she stood diligently. He looked up towards her -not wanting to let her know what he was planning to do with the wires- and told her that he thought they looked pretty and he was going to decorate his home with them later.

Her eyes tilted at his hands and she inquired if he needed any help untangling them from his hands.

He told her that it would be alright and he could do it himself.

"I came back." she simply stated in distant words as she sat down next to him. Her hands hugged the bag tighter to her and the subtle crunch of paper practically echoed in the District. She took a sip of her drink and sighed heavily as her eyes looked far away. The sun rose higher and higher, turning parts of her skin orange and golden. He squinted looking at her and moved to adjust his vision.

"Just like you promised." he added. Christopher pulled out a long red wire and stared at it as he held it close to his face. It was clearly too small and it was too thin to hold any sort of alien equipment, let alone try to substitute for one of them. He placed it in his mouth and chewed on the rubbery skin. He looked up to see if she had seen him in the wire, but no, her attention was still diverted to whatever it was she was staring at and the bitter smelling cup in her hand.

Her face directed towards him and her cheeks puffed out as she whistled. "Glad to see me?" she asked, placing the large paper bag in the space between the 2 of them, her hand still gripping it tightly. He wasn't sure why exactly, but staring at her made him feel all the more tired and exhausted than it did yesterday when she came stumbling and yawning. Christopher looked discreetly in the bag, seeing nothing at top but the fading shadows of whatever it was that lurked at the bottom. He wondered what was in the bag, could it have been more catfood. He eagerly hoped deep down that she had indeed brought more catfood for him to eat.

With a free hand, she reached to the base of her head and pulled at her hair.
He was about to ask her why she was pulling her hair until he realized it was actually a hair elastic in her fingertips. She pulled the little band clear off her head and the hair sprung forward like some sort of warning call. the curls jumped and bounced as she shook her head. Her hands ran through the hair, having it point towards the heavens and settle like falling feathers on the sides of her face. Locks fell in front of her face, but she blew them away.
In his opinion, she looked a lot better with her face down like that, it just seemed to match her; her standing out as she always did to him and her eccentricity. Her eyes closed in a kind of way it didn't look tired but more like a contemplation, her eyelashes casted dark shadows over her cheeks; the little thin streaks blending in with the strands of curly thick locks that begged for entrance into her puckered mouth.
He asked after seeing her taking in a slight yawn; her hand covering her mouth, the shiny white teeth glaring through the darkened skin and lips, "Are you doing any better?"

She tilted her head and whistled a quizzical tweeeet.

He explained to her -his antennas suddenly pointing towards her and tugging the base of his head, egging on to jump into the jungle of her hair, "You looked so tired yesterday. I.... I was worried something was wrong with you."
With the few remaining wires in his hands that he had deemed would be adequate enough to replace a few of the wirings that had combusted in the small ship under his home, he balled them up in his hands. He pointed to her hands and gestured how often she had yawned yesterday when she came to see him again.

Her eyes rolled at the top of her lids. "Tired, yeah...." she clicked hesitantly. The sun was rising higher and the lights were so blinding. More non-humans were coming out of their huts to scavenge for food, play(smashing and setting fire were prime favorite recreational past-times), and getting ready to take the MNU-licensed bus to work in the factories. Many of them passed by his and fumnanya, glancing at them both but more importanly at the bag that sat between them. Fumnanya saw where their gazes were headed too and simuteneously pulled the bag closer to her body as she moved closer to him; the space between the both of them becoming smaller.
She looked up and down and everywhere.
Until her eyes landed on him and stare at him all over. He suddenly felt embarrassed at having her stare at him in such a way that he carefully moved his legs closer together without having her notice his sudden shyness to her looks. She moved closer to him and pointed a hovering finger above his half naked thigh. She didn't touch him like she did before. He supposed that she remembered and felt embarassed for touching him or she had recalled the clear uncomfort when she squeezed his leg and he had stiffened under her. Nonetheless, she didn't touch him and kept her hands to herself. Her mouth opened wide as she clicked and every so often in the syllables, her hand would tap against the side of her head like she was trying to knock the word out onto the tip of her tongue.
"You found.... found....." she struggled to say to him.

"Pants? Yes." Christopher finished for her.

She nodded and moved farther away from him. Taking another sip of her drink. Coffee -she told him, pointing at the bubble letters on the side of the cup that clearly read coffee. Fumnanya cocked her head once more at him and whistled wheeee, obviously asking about the origin of his new garment.

"After you left, I found a pair close to my house. It was more than torn up, but after a few adjustments it was better." he clicked and growled to her as his knees seperated apart from each other.
The brown ragged thing covered only his pelvic region, but it didn't cover anything underneathe. It was resembled something of a very short skirt on him, but he compensated for it to retain some aspect of looking like pants by taking other pieces of it and wrapping it around his legs to create the illusion of pant sleeves. It didn't look as ridiculous as before but it still felt odd to walk and feel the exoskeleton shells of his legs brush together without the barrier of fabric.

Fumnanya must've felt more daring for after taking another sip of her coffee, she reached forward and pinched a small amount of the dirty greasy fabric. Her expression went from curiosity to sour as her face scrunched together inwards to her nose and she shook her head, the hair flying everywhere. Her fingers rolled the fabric around and moved like a snail to the edge where he had ripped it before, the threading coming looser apart and turning into fuzzy fringe. His gaze went over to her pants around her fleshy thighs and his own substitute that suddenly seemed like a skirt compared to hres. He felt incredibly emasculated for before on the home-planet, he had been raised to prepare for a paternal role than a maternal role.

She tugged on the end of his provisional trousers and her hand snapped away with a few of the brown strands in her pinching fingers. Her face was one of disbelief and held an uncouth nature that he wasn't used to seeing on her nor could he have imagined that embodiment of clever features being capable of making a face like that. She looked up at him, still holding the face with strong lines around her mouth as the corners of her lips pointed downwards and her eye brows furrowed together to create vertical logs between her eyes. He could practically hear her non-existant voice asking why he would and how could he wear something like that.

"I would rather wear something that covered only the necessities than that which has been made it look like it was designed for going to the toilet." he told her, his face stern and serious. He actually was serious, compared to what the other non-human residents wore, this was actually the norm. Some wore worse than he did or decided to just go naked, taking full pride in thei outer shells and physique or simply not caring -like the drone workers which populated most of the non-human population- and not being able to find any sort of material to wear.

But she laughed silently at what he said, the frown flipping into a mirrow image and all the disfiguring features of her face disappearing to be replaced by smooth cheeks and chin. But the mime laugh was quickly gone and replaced with a serious one that matched his almost perfectly. She pointed back and forth with her index between her jeans and his ragged trousers. It took her very long to speak and 3 times, she bit her tongue and winced at the pain, biting on her lips. "Can get you..... pants." was what had finally came out from her lips and the ends of her teeth and tongue.

"You've done too much now. I can't ask for any more. I don't want to bother you too much." he told her, gesturing with both of his hands held up and his wrists offered out to her.

Her frown became harder and she shook her head back and forth. She puckered her lips forward and prepared for a marathon of clicks and whistles to tell him what she thought, to give him a 'piece of her mind'. Her head would twitch and toss with each finished syllable and he could see anger sprouting beautifully on her face like a crimson flower. Every so often, he would hear a very sharp "Tch... tch..." in the midst of her speaking. She seethed through clenching and snapping teeth, "Bother.... don't like.... it..... when.... you....."

He sighed and placed a tentacled finger on her shoulder and pulled it back like he was afraid he would burn him if he left it there too long. She stopped speaking and sat up straighter, gazing deep into his gold eyes, her green splashing brown eyes booring into him. Putting the wires into the pockets of his red jacket, he broke down for her, looking at her and the ground at his feet alternatingly, "I understand what you're saying. But would you enjoy it if someone constantly asked you for material possessions whenever they saw you? I don't think so and most humans wouldn't either. Honestly, why would you want to spend money on a non-human like me?" He motioned with his antennas and his mouthparts at her and then pointed a long finger at himself, tapping upon the concave space at the base of his armoured neck to further his point to her.

The look on her face was exactly the same as if he had suddenly told her that he was growing a tail and he had great white wings on his back. She took a sip of her coffee once more, but the wide-eyed expression was stuck on her face. Brushing some of the strands out of her mouth's way, she clicked out a few simple clicks that were consummately well-said and put together. "Friends."

"Friends?" The shock and suprise was clear and loud in both his actions and tone of growls.
It was his turn to be surprised. She thought of him as friends? Actually, she considered him to be a friend rather than an ongoing obligation? He was flabbergasted, his only friends were the other non-humans whom he worked with and collaborated with. He didn't think that she would regard him as such. Yet while her simple word had suddenly opened up his eyes and self and made him feel like an entire burden was taken off his shoulders, at the same time he felt more downhearted like he had been dropped from a very high place. He wasn't sure as to why he felt ecstatic to hear it directly and officially that they were friends and disheartened to hear the relationship status as such.
He chalked it up under for his hormones because he was sure that he was coming into fertile stage this time of year. He noticed his testosterone levels were lowering and he often felt the urge to run and he could smell pheromones even more strongly now. He deduced it was because he was entering the fertile stage and concluded that the bi-polar feeling of her telling him that they were both friends was also a side effect to the fertile stage.
Still, he could not stop whatever it was jumping inside him to calm down and settle in his pits nor the ongoing waves of depression battering his spine at what she had told him.
He looked over to Fumnanya whose serious and abashed countenance changed to his own.

Her mouth gaped like she realized she had said something that had unintentionally offended him or that she shouldn't have said in the first place. Through the dark skin, he saw something that took him long to recognize what he was exactly; a blush. She fidgeted with her fingers but it would always jump up now and again to dance for her, to speak for her, and she would place them under her legs. But not before taking another sip of her coffee. She flipped her head side to side, wondering what to say to him he supposed. She looked so frustrated with what she was doing. Regret was clear on her face, but he wasn't sure what she regretted exactly; telling him that they were friends or even thinking of him as a friend. Not until she struggled to explain to him what was bothering her, "I think.... we..... we're...."

"I'm glad that we are friends." he said back, leaning forward and motioning with his hands, palm up towards her, the trust that he planted in her. Her face drained of the colour it had before and she laughed silently, her eyes squinting and the corners of her mouth stretching from ear to ear.
He eased her as she had eased him and excited him was the least he could do for her. And it made him happy deep down that he had done it with a verification like that.

"I.... like... helping friends. Don't..... be.... k-k-khhe.... scared.... to ask for help. That's the reason for.... friends." she said as she looked down and the clicks became more muffled and abstruse.

But he could still recognize the keywords and pieced them together easily, knowing for sure what was the main idea of what she said. She really was too nice. There was something about her that already told him that she cared more than she ought to. The proof had already been in coming to see him and gradually rising above her fear of the non-humans and District 9. Whenever she came, she gave to him as much as she could, as best as she could. And she never asked him for anything in return, she never expected it. All she did want though was appreciation for her efforts and what she did. Such a simple thing and he couldn't give it on one occasion and now worked hard to show that he did appreciate it; wearing the jacket she gave him faithfully and keeping it safe.
"You're too nice. I can't... I don't like to be the one who takes and never gives, especially to someone..... as kind as you." he complimented her. Christopher was embarrassed that he had said something as sappy as that, but he felt that it needed to be said. He was almost positive that parts of his exoskeleton had a slight tinge of red.

"Christopher..... is sweet. Christopher is sweet to me." she clicked, cooing back at him and she smiled almost too timidly at him that he wondered what did go on in that head of hers when she sported that look of batting her eyelashes and smirking so innocently.

Something inside him just jumped, flipping upside down and doing backflips. He smiled at what she said and he felt lighter inside, not caring at how stupid he must've looked because in her aim to talk and speak, he promised her before that he woud smile more often.
She smiled back at him just as warmly, encouraging him even more to widen those muscles and laugh.

An idea blinked inside her and she reached inside the brown paper bag. It crinkled as her hand moved around in there. Very slowly, she brought out something white that was shiny, looking opposite as opposed to her black hand. She unwrapped a little bit of it and the smell of fish and meat that he loved came wafting from the little wrapped package. She held it out to him and smiled even more if it was possible. "Tuna salad. Try." she whistled to him.

The bread was cold but it was very soft; practically melting in his mouth like frost. But this 'frost' was fluffy and it gave him mouth a more satisfied feeling, sticking to his little jagged teeth. There were small crunches as he chewed and swallowed, the crunches breaking out into juices that tickled his sandy tongue and curled it. It was meat as far as he could tell; the sensitive parts of his mouth flicking at the little strands of flesh. It tasted very similar to cat food really; the saltiness and the wet moisture that rolled around like fine butter. The fish was wet and it wasn't dry as he had thought before when she mentionned tuna salad. The taste had come to almost a shock to him at how robust it was but the soft fluffy bread did its job in toning it down while complimenting it perfectly and adding more to fill.
It moved so easily to the back of his throat and went down all the more. It spread all over his tongue to his cheek pockets and down his gullet. But his teeth itched at how soft it was and obscurely, he wished for it to be tougher to give him something to chew.

He mumbled as he stuffed it into his mouth, the mouth parts and tentacles shadowing over each other. Dirt was mixed in as well.
"It's.... good. Very good."

She nodded and smiled at him, handing him another sandwich from inside the bag. . He took another bite, already leaving one thrid of the sandwich left. Christopher pointed at the bag and Fumnanya politely raised her hand against it. She pushed the bag over to him and he asked her if she was really giving him a whole bag of tuna salad sandwiches.

She told him that she got a high discount for the sandwiches where she worked and she suggested for him that he could also share it with his friends. But the sandwiches had to be quick to eat because there was mayonaise in it which could spoil very fast.
He didn't care.
Like all non-humans, he often had to eat from the garbage just to survive because the money he made couldn't support him for both food and recreation sometimes. Plus the rationing oil they gave out as power was costly to them and he had to have a lot power and batteries to continue repairing and upgrading the ship. So what was the point in having a lot and eating quick to have it gone for later? He could eat a few now and give one to Mike and Charles each later when they met again tonight to look at this ship, but save the rest for tomorrow when he went to work again. He was reminded to tell her that he would be off at work tomorrow. Secretly, he hoped on the inside that since she considered him a friend, she also considered him to be the main reason why she came to District 9 when she did. He didn't want to think that she came to visit people like that heavy-set butcher he saw the other day.

She nodded again and drank some more of her coffee.

"Read a very nice story this morning.... Want to hear?" She asked him as she set the cup down. Fumnanya rolled her lips inside her mouth between her teeth. One of her hands rubbed her cheeks, moving in small circles and molding the flesh around. She was getting tired, but that was a good sign. It showed that she had put in more effort than she did last week.

"Of course. I love hearing you speak. You improve with every word and phrase." he complimented her, hoping that she could know how much he meant it, how much he did indeed love to hear her speak to him and for him.

It wasn't that she told the story to him; they collaborated on it and finished it for each other. Her words and phrases were slow and jumbled into each other that it was often she would pull out her notebook to write a sentence or a word she couldn't translate or remember. Her hands would dance and play in front of her as though it very well was spinning the tale out of thin air. He could see the adroit ability of her fingertips in the cold morning air in front of his tired eyes.
When the notebook was starting to come out a little too often, he would take his hand and lower the dry notebook away from her view and have her try to remember the word or have her repeat the word from his own mouthparts.
Once, twice, thrice.... she would repeat what he said and then every while he would repeat the word and she would write it down in english upon her notebook. Between each little part of her story, he would stop her to advise on her posture or her breathing so that her 'speaking' could be more comprehensible if she were to ever speak to another non-human.
When he noticed that she was getting tired an she would stretch her mouth, the heart-shaped face getting longer, he would grant her some mercy and finish the word for her and have her continue with what part she was getting to in the story.

The story of Godfather Death is old and changing, but the ideas ran close to each other.

The man's father had been poor all his life and wanted the best for his first son. He went out looking for a Godfather that would be willing enough to take care of his son. He asked rich men, but they wanted nothing to do with him. He continued looking and soon came upon God.

God said that he saw the child's future to be blessed and offered to be the son's Godfather with the gift of health and happiness. The man declined the idea because while God was merciful, he favoured poverty and rewarded suffering in Heaven.
The man met the Devil after. The Devil offered to be the son's Godfather with the gift of gold and worldly goods. But, the man knew about the devil and his ways of tricking mankind.
Finally he met Death. He knew Death and how he was indiscriminate to all and decided that would be perfect as his son's Godfather. The man asked Death to be his son's Godfather and Death agreed.

The boy was 15 when he met again with his Godfather. He asked, "Are you here to take me away, Godfather?"

Death replied, "No, I am going to make you a doctor."

Death showed the young man a secret garden that could cure all. Taking just a mouthful of the herbs would cure anybody. However, Death warned that if the boy was going to cure someone, he would have to watch for if Death were to stand at someone's feet, there would be no point of giving the medecine. When Death was at the person's head, he could heal them.
The boy became prosperous and famous. One day when the King was sick and the young boy saw that Death was already standing at the foot of the King's bed.
The young boy felt sorry for the King that he tricked Death by turning the King over so that Death was at his head. The young boy quickly fed him the magical herb and the King was cured. Death was upset with the young man about breaking his promise.

The boy begged for forgiveness and Death granted it. However Death told him that should he ever disobey again, he would surely die. The young man promised to never disobey. Soon the King's daughter fell ill and when the young man was called in to cure her, he immediately saw Death standing at the foot of the Princess's bed. The young man had only seen the young Princess's face and fell in love with her. The King promised the young man that if he could cure her, he could marry her and inherit the throne. The young man quickly took the Princess and turned her so that her head was at Death and he fed her the magical plants.
She was cured.

Death was outraged and brought the young man to a cavern behind his garden filled with of candles. He told his Godson that each Candle represented a dying life and in saving and increasing the Princess's lifespan, he had without knowledge made his own shorter.
The young man begged for his Godfather Death to make his life long once more so that he could be with the Princess whom he had fallen in love with. Death reminded him of the promise he had made. The young man begged and cried to be with his love.

Death agreed, but in a swift act of vengeance, he switched the candle lengths so that while the young man would then again have a full life, the Princess would take his place and die.

"Know the meaning?" she asked him as she placed her hand behind her back and then the notebook suddenly disappeared out of plain sight.

His antennas wagged up and down as he thought carefully about his answer. "'Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me?'" he quoted the human expression after once hearing it from the mouth of a scrawny white man whom had been yellling at a prawn for trying to sell him a broken tv and the tv ended up being one that the human had thrown out.

She shook her head, her hair flying everywhere.

"What then?"

"Can't cheat Death." she said simply and then she took a sip of her coffee. She slurped her drink and held onto it in her lap. her eyes darted back and forth as though she was looking for something. He thought that she couldn't have been looking for someplace to throw away that drink, was she? It would've been foolish to try and look for a trashcan in a slum/dump. He waited for a while as she would stand up again and again turning around and around. She would sit down again with her fingertips tapping against the paper walls of the cup.

Finally he told her that she may as well chuck it onto the ground because she wouldn't find any garbage cans or bins in District 9. Her expression was hesitant as she lowered the cup onto the ground and settled it there as though she was freeing it into the wild. He chuckled at her naive nature, but it was still good to see that sort of behavior in a place wrought with sin and crime everywhere.

They were silent for a moment. Neither of them knew what to say to each other. They sat still on the piece of jagged concrete that served as a makeshift bench with curious eyes trailing over them as their beholders passed by moderately and fleetingly.
She moved closer to him, he imagined. Or maybe he didn't imagine it. He looked to her hands that were closed so dilligently in her lap and her feet that were crossed over one another, the black heels blending in so perfectly and the jeans complimenting her complexion.

Suddenly the confident air she had that was able to barely sustain in a place filled with the Underworld of Africa and Nigeria and hostile dangerous non-humans, became a small shell of insecuriy that he could feel in the small -yet still significant- decrease in temperature around her. Her eyes went full, like water had rose in their colour and was overflowing, threatening to drown anybody cocky enough who dared to stare her straight in the eyes. Her mouth that he always saw flapping up and down desperately trying to be heard albeit her condition was still and almost quivering like it was too cold or she was trying hard not to utter a word.
Her long fingers fidgeted with the newspaper that she held. Every so often, she would look up next to him, and then her eyes would cast down as though she suddenly reconsidered what she was about to do or say. Her shoulders bunched up to her ears with the messy hair as well slowly spilling out of the wrapped bun that she had tied onto her shoulders.

He drank in the sight of her vunerable that he found almost too delicious and shamed himself about it. Without her talking or rather trying to make a conversation about something with him every moment, he took this chance to observe her, to emprint everything of her and about her in his memory so that he would have something to give him a sense of compassion when everything would get too crazy or too hard.
She would be his lifeboat in his way of trying to retain his sanity in a world that had its inhabitants souless almost.

'You just want to check her out.' a little voice mocked him in his head.

'No, I don't.' he argued back with his little subconscious.

'Yes, you do. You don't want her for all that fucking noble shit about a happy memory and friendly shit. You just want to know what she looks like so you have something to imagine for when you jerk off!' it laughed mercilessly.

'See, I'm going crazy deep down now. This is exactly why I need a thought -any thought- to keep from hearing voices in my head.' he pointed out to the little subconscious.

'That would be a good reason, but get this; I'm your reasoning. How do you like them apples?' it laughed and laughed.

He looked at her, wanting to see what was it indeed besides her eyes and her oddness that always had her invading his thoughts especially when he was down in the dark fixing the command ship. It certainly wasn't totally her hair.... now that he looked closer, it wasn't as long as he thought, it was rather short actually with it barely gracing her shoulders. It must've been her long neck that gave the illusion of extra length. He laughed silently at watching her eyes; the way it always shifted side to side like she was suspicious all the time and how every so often her nose would scrunch up and twitch. She really did seem like a feline to him; those shiny eyes that were filled with so much life and mischief while all at the same time not knowing what indeed was going to happen next.
Curiosity really did kill the cat.
Her skin wasn't as dark as he remembered; it was as though she had simply been playing all day in the dirt, being slowly baked by the sun instead of burnt to a dark ashy crisp. There were spots on her skin where the sun shone that it was coloured a dark honey. His mouth almost started watering when he made that metaphor. She was organic, free growing like a weed or a vine. There were no lines on her that could be identified as uniform or systematic. Everything about her was impulsive and 'so with the flow'. His eyes subtly followed each line; the curve of her neck ligaments blending into the collar of her uniform, the little stitches on the edge of it crossing each other, the empty spaces around her turning fuller. Without realizing what had happened, he suddenly found his eyes drawn to the crease of her skin on her front resulted by her leaning forward too much and her arms coming too close in the middle. It was then his turn to turn away almost shyly at the truth about where he had been staring out for the past time.

He bet that they must've looked like the shy teenagers that one so often saw in the streets sitting on the park benches outside the fence lines and in the magazines that often found their way into the trash heaps of District 9. Or rather like a sexual predator having already lured a willing victim and was contemplating on how to devour her.

She spoke up, he could hear her lips smacking together and her tired breath, "Why?"

He moved a little farther away from her but turned to face her directly, ""Why" what?"

She tried to speak with her tongue clicking so rapidly against the roof of her mouth, but each time she was getting into it, her tongue would suddenly flop dead as though exhausted or she would bite herself on the lips. It was apperent that something was on her mind and it was stressing her enough that she couldn't concentrate to form the sounds of the language that always had her looking a fool. The bloated look in her eyes became clearer and the muscles on her long swan-like neck twtiched and moved like logs bobbing over and under black waters. She sighed, heaving her shoulders forward.
Again, she looked at him only to look away; an expression of turmoil on her face as though she couldn't decide what was right or wrong.

He leaned in slightly closer, his hand clenching tight on the steel piece of concrete, "What is it?"

There was a sort of pitiful smile on her lips and he wished that he knew the reason behind the sudden silence from her or the frustration that she displayed so clearly. At first when he met her, he had thought her silence was most welcoming because he wouldn't hear any curses from her and that it was uplifting to hear her struggle to speak his language.
She took out her notebook from behind her and flipped through the crinkled sheets, the yellow coloured papers buzzing alive. She..... Fumnanya came to a page with a huge word scrawled on it in the black ink that leaned to the right and had been underlined ferociously;


It had clearly been written for some other occasion, before his for sure looking at the light navy spot of certain part of the sole word.
"I don't understand." he growled to her, tapping the word. She flipped the sheet over and on one half had black scribbles clearly meant to black out something that she didn't want anyone to see, or perhaps she didn't want to see it again herself. Abeni wrote slowly this time, her hand tracing the paper as though she had become lost and tried to recollect on how to spell once more. She didn't look up at him, all in all it seemed that she didn't want to look up at anything; all that mattered to her was what she was writing. She wrote something down, but then crossed it out with the ink scritching scratching over the paper and she wrote something else after it.
He counted that she had made a total of about 7 mistakes in her note. the fact that she couldn't talk to him like she just had been a few minutes ago was seriuos. Something must've been bothering even more than when she had told him that she thought of him as a friend, that she couldn't pronounce anything or think of how to speak. After a while of crossing out words and slow deep breathing over quick scritching, she appeared to be finished with the written message as her wrist lifted off the paper and her elbow moved along with it in a curving motion. She didn't pass the note over to him, she held it in her grip and kept her face down away from him.

Why did you save me?

the note read. Bringing the note back to the front of her chest once more, she briskly underlined the 'Why' several times and showed it to him once more.

"Does there always have to be a reason?" he questioned as he leaned forward in his seat and crossed his ankles just as she did.
His brain was racking with his original thoughts of that day -it wasn't that he had any trouble remembering, no not at all- it was rather that he wasn't sure if he should share with her what he thought.

"Christopher....." she whined with her whistles, long and rawling with a hint of a sort of twaaang.

What would he tell her?

Short chappie yes, but I thought a cliffie would be good so far as I decide on how to tell this part. It'll explain why she'll still want to go into District 9 even though she's usually freaked out going in there without her butcher friend and it'll.... be worth it. Again, the hostage message still stands strong here.

Please review

Yes, I know I am totally meretricious, no need to tell me that in a review if you decide to and if you're nice about it.