Lukian pushed a glass of water closer to him. “Shh.” He mouthed without speaking, waving a finger, “Infraction of silence.”
Benny wiped the tears from his eyes.
He was too dumb to read lips.
The lights brightened: the announcements were over.
“I can’t believe it, the honorable work you do.” Benny jammed his spork into another sausage, and pointed at the medals on Lukian’s uniform. “It must be difficult, all the time–” He chewed. “Nigel, what a tragedy!” He horked back another piece of meat and swallowed. “Lukian, you have a strong will to live.”
Lukian glanced out the window, watching the snow pile relentlessly, pointlessly. He pushed his tray across the table, and reclined in his chair, crossing one ankle over his knee. “I don’t have the will to eat.”
Lukian’s back stiffened. Instantly recognizing his voice, he squinted his eyes and balled his hands into tight fists, wishing bitterly to vanish. His blood turned to ice.
It was Krodha Tempestus, his therapist, a half-cocked, raging dynamo whose hot-headed brutality in battle won him a flimsy, nondescript shred of superior ranking, which he loved to flaunt and abuse at every opportunity.
Use it or lose it, Krodha had said.
Lukian was about to fucking lose it. Not Krodha. Not now!
He heard the heavy steps moving toward him: Lukian sucked in a breath. He wanted to disappear, to die. He heard the boots stop behind him, his funeral parade.
“I said, yo! Valentin.” Krodha rammed an electrified kluzein baton into the back of his shoulder.
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Genre – Sci-Fi/Steamy Romance
Rating – R (18+)