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Unity

By Mantrid Brizon

Episode Thirty-Two: Altered

Several days pass, and Unity remains quiet, even peaceful. With routine updates, Miss Ayanda’s suggestion of transparency has proven effective; with this, and the efforts of Draiman and Corova, the rebellion has entirely ended. With the Council in prison and unable to take control, no one besides Miss Ayanda is even in a position to wreak havoc. Standing beside his hospital bed, a recently discharged Madrid slips on his V.I. bracelet. Activating the device, he waits for it to load. After watching the loading wheel spin, shrinking into a dot, he checks his messages to find nothing at all.

As she’d promised, Miss Ayanda diverted all work-related messages for him, however, none of his personal contacts, what few there are, bothered to so much as text him while he was hospitalized. Neither Sashuna nor Delilah, whose number he also has, had even tried to visit him once. Somewhat dejected, Madrid lets out a melancholy sigh. Walking through the ship, conspicuous as ever, he glances toward the tall ceiling of his tier, many stories above him. Watching the artificial sky drawn overhead, the glow of a false sun striking his skin, his mind races and his frustrations simmer.

“And I made sure to cycle the police on duty, trying to keep them from being too bored.” Kellan continues.

“Good. Now that that’s settled, what’s next on the list?” Miss Ayanda looks at her Lieutenants, standing around the main table.

“I received the reports from the prison, Miss Ayanda.” Fizona begins.

“And?”

“Everyone has been processed, including our special guests. Most have minor offenses of disorderly conduct and unarmed assault, though a few have some more serious infractions.” Fizona begins.

“Are you sure you want to book the Council for treason?” Stefan raises a brow.

“Why not?” Miss Ayanda smirks, shrugging her shoulders.

“The Council wanted us to integrate everyone, even the criminals from the riots... Maybe we could show a little mercy?” August suggests.

“A little mercy is not blowing their brains out.” Sihl’Ahzen retorts.

“Agreed.” Drayusa nods.

“Well, I suppose we could-”

The main door abruptly slides open, revealing Madrid standing in the corridor. The Lieutenants and Miss Ayanda look toward the door, startled by his sudden and unannounced appearance.

“Captain!” Miss Ayanda chirps. “What a pleasant surprise!”

“Hello. I hope you’re all doing well.”

“We are.” Miss Ayanda nods, answering for her team.

“Good... Do you have a minute to speak privately?”

“Of course.”

With a wave of her hand, she draws the captain in. Turning around and walking away from the table, she leads him into her office, taking her seat at the chair behind her desk. No sooner than he enters the room, she closes and locks the door behind them, using her remote panel. Madrid takes a seat, his stare intense; he looks toward the floor as if peering through the hull and watching an object floating in deep space.

“Are you alright, Madrid?” She softly asks.

“Hm? Oh, yes. I’m alright. I’m healing well.”

“Good.” She grins.

“This visit is about Unity... I’ve kept myself apprised while in the hospital.”

“How? Without your bracelet, I-”

“There are portable terminals in the hospital.” He interrupts. “They don’t have any use besides reading messages, but thankfully, you’ve been so transparent. I assume you were following my lead?”

“I was.” She nods. “I thought transparency could work, though it was a little... Rough, that first time.”

“I appreciate your effort, and your tactics. It’s working quite well.”

“So far...”

“I think at this stage transparency is the only choice we have left... So why not take a vote?!” He asks with exuberance.

“... A vote?” She raises a brow.

“Yeah! I’ll draft a blanket message, briefly laying out how it is, and ask the crew and refugees what to do about it. There are only two real options. The Dezonians and Solar Council saw to that. Option one: We float in orbit around this nameless moon and call it a life. We vigorously populate Unity and live in peace until she can’t hold anymore and then make up a new plan, however many decades from now that takes us. Option two: We continue with the mission and have a chance of surviving and returning to Sol sometime in the next few years.” He explains.

“That isn’t much of a choice.” She retorts.

“That’s the point. We’re choiceless, and we both know it. We can’t even plot a course without a Dezonian, and you can’t see where you’re flying in hyperspace because of the warp bubble. We’re. Fucked. If, however, they take a vote, however pointless it might be, maybe the populace will feel like it mattered? They’ll only be able to blame themselves for everything that happens next.”

“I didn’t realize you were so devious.” She silently chuckles, sitting back in her chair.

“There’s a lot about me you don’t know...”

“Are you floating this by me? Asking my opinion?”

“No. I’m doing this whether anyone likes it or not, but I’m giving you a heads up because I respect you.” He bluntly replies.

“Following my lead, this time?” She narrows her eyes.

“I read what you did to the Council. Fuck them. I’d have done the same in your place. I’m the captain, and this is my party.” He coldly growls.

“And how does a figure head, such as yourself, host a party?” She asks.

“Simple. The Council are still technically in power, and the Councilmembers wield that power. If I could compel the current Councilmembers to surrender their seats, however, I’d be the de facto leader for once. Maybe I could even replace them with a new Council, who are on my side, and who’re on the crew’s side?”

“And how would you go about all of this?” An intrigued Miss Ayanda asks, her lips curling into a sinister grin.

“I suppose if they were all in a confined space of some sort. Some kind of prison-like structure, I could give them an enhanced interrogation. Maybe they’d surrender their seats? ... Or I could blow them out of an airlock, their signal would cease and Unity’s computer would automatically update their seat as empty. Either way, the captain promotes the seats should a Councilmember die.”

“Well, now, this is a pleasant change! You should get shot more often!” She giggles.

“I’d rather not.” He smirks.

“I like this plan, and I’m excited to be a part of it!”

“Glad to have you with me, Miss Ayanda.” He rises to his feet.

“Oh, it’s my pleasure.” She coos, standing in kind.

Stepping around her desk, Madrid gives Miss Ayanda a tight embrace. Though often jovial and polite, he acts with more assertiveness than he did in the past. Is this a result of his injury? A potential brush with death? Whatever caused the change, she enjoys it. Her arms wrap around the human in kind, and she brushes his head with her snout.

“Thank you, Miss Ayanda.”

“For what?”

Backing away just enough to look up at her, Madrid stares into her eyes, keeping his hands planted firmly on her broad hips.

“I didn’t think it could be done, but you found the one thing the Dezonians and Solar Council missed. Apparently, they never expected us to usurp the Council.”

“Dezonians never betray authority figures. It isn’t in their nature.” She remarks.

“It’s a good thing that we’re a bunch of backstabbing bastards then, isn’t it?”

“I suppose. We still can’t pilot the ship without a willing Dezonian. That’s their failsafe.” She retorts.

“I know, and that’s why we have to carry out the mission. At least with us in charge, we control the computer, we don’t answer to the Council, and we know what to expect. I’m sure they have files that even we couldn’t read.”

Stepping back, Madrid heads for the door, only to find it locked. He glances over his shoulder at her, his eyes scanning her form as he waits expectantly. Miss Ayanda crosses her arms beneath her bust, subtly pushing it up for him, waiting for him to make the next move.

“Well?”

“Well, what?” She asks, feigning ignorance.

“Well, open the door and let me out, or I might bend you over that desk.” He smirks.

“Mmm... Yes, sir.” She coos.

Pleased by his response, she sashays toward her desk. Bending over and placing her four-digited hands firmly atop her desk, the Kanorakus’ tail swishes slowly from side to side as she methodically reaches for the button. Giving it a little tap with a claw, both unlocking and opening the door for him, Madrid glances at the opening and then back at Miss Ayanda before exiting her office without a word. He gives a little head nod to the Lieutenants standing idly around the main table, who watch as he heads for the door. A few moments later, Miss Ayanda emerges from her office and returns to continue their debrief, a little smile on her face.

“What was that about?” A curious Drayusa asks.

“Oh, he just wanted to share something with me.” Miss Ayanda replies.

“Anything of consequence?” Sihl’Ahzen wonders.

“I guess we’ll find out... So, where were we?”

Heading for the bridge, Madrid sees the guards, who stand at attention as soon as they spot him. One of the two he recognizes from the first mutiny, a man who was under August’s command. He turns his head to face the door, only to glance further down the hall. About a minute’s walk from where he stands are the offices where both Delilah and Sashuna work. Taking a deep breath, he marches on, passing the guards as he walks toward the secretarial office. Standing inside and speaking with her co-worker, Adi, Delilah hears the subtle swooshing of the door. She turns to see if someone is arriving late, pausing mid-sentence.

“C-captain!” Delilah stammers, her eyes wide.

“Hey.”

Madrid enters the office, where many of the women greet him, asking how he’s feeling and if he’s doing better. In the background, Madrid’s eyes turn toward Sashuna, who sits in her cubicle. Looking through the opening that leads to her desk and chair, her head lowers as if ashamed, her snout angled towards the floor. Her softened brow partially obscures her saddened eyes. She somehow looks simultaneously pleased and afraid to see him. Turning his eyes to Delilah, he extends an arm, leaning on Adi’s cubicle.

“So, why didn’t you stop by to see me?”

“I-I just... I didn’t want to see you like that; hooked up to tubes.” She speaks softly.

“That’s a shame. I was hoping for nicer scenery.” He leans closer.

“Oh.” Her grin grows ever wider.

“... Do you want to come over to my place sometime? Like after your shift today?”

Delilah blinks, her eyes growing even wider as her brow raises in surprise. She can’t believe he’s being so forward. They’d flirted extensively and called each other once before, but he’s never asked her to his home.

“Uh... Sure! That’d be great!” She chirps, her face aglow.

The other women in the cubicles softly giggle, some of them glancing across the hall to the others. They all know what will most likely occur; the human man and the Voeldahn woman’s attraction isn’t a secret. Glancing back toward Sashuna, her head is now straight ahead. Her expression has shifted. She appears perturbed by this turn of events. Is she jealous? Perhaps surprised? At that moment, he’s too bitter to care, considering how little effort she’s shown in their friendship. He eagerly awaited her visit in the hospital, a visit that never came.

Without speaking another word, Madrid leaves the offices, making his way to Unity’s bridge. Delilah stands there for a moment, her narrowed eyes watching the door as if he were still standing there.

“So... Are you really going to go?” Adi suddenly asks.

“Hm?” Delilah turns her head.

“To his apartment. Are you going to go?” Adi reiterates.

“Of course! I’ve wanted his body for weeks, but I just didn’t want to be the one to have to ask. Call me old fashioned, but asking a man for sex just doesn’t seem right to me... I’m glad he finally said something though!” Delilah chuckles. “I was worried he never would!”

“Hm... Did he seem... Different?”

“Different how?”

“I don’t know... Just... Not like himself.” Adi vaguely explains.

“Not that I noticed.” Delilah replies.

“You never even knew him.”

Spinning around, Delilah’s lips curl into a smug grin as her big brown eyes scan Sashuna’s taller, larger frame. Glancing up at the Kanorakus, who stands only feet away, she leans back against Adi’s cubicle wall with confidence. Her bushy, squirrel tail sways behind her back as her eyes scan the imposing, raptor-like female.

“Oh? ... You sound jealous.” Delilah remarks.

“I have nothing to do with this. You don’t really know him. How can you judge if he seems different or not?” Sashuna poses.

“Then you noticed too?!” Adi looks to Sashuna.

Sashuna looks toward the mare Voeldahn and nods her head.

“Look, I just think he’s hot. I can get to know him after I fuck him.” Delilah coldly retorts. “Now get back to work!”

Entering the bridge, the crew greet their captain, who hasn’t set foot in the room since the massacre. He pauses, looking over the immaculate chamber. There’s not a single chip in the computer consoles or one drop of visible blood anywhere. The maintenance droids and Unity’s technicians are certainly the best in their field. With a little sigh, he waves to his crew, though he doesn’t speak a word. Heading for his private office that’s attached to the bridge, he pauses, standing just before the door. He rests a palm against the doorframe, leaning against it and resting his head against the cold metal barrier.

“Captain? ... Are you alright?” A crewmember finally asks.

“Hm?” He lifts his head. “Uh, yeah... When does the autopilot’s timer expire?”

“In T-minus seven hours and thirty-one minutes.” A crewmember replies.

“Good... We’re taking a vote.” Madrid begins.

“A vote, captain Basile?”

“Yes, a vote. I need to do something in my office. After that, I’d like you all to find a useable terminal, cast your vote, and then report back here. Once the vote is tallied... I’ll issue new orders.” He explains.

Stepping into his office, his crew appear thoroughly confused. Taking a seat at his desk, he activates his terminal and begins his work, drafting a message. Interestingly, voting was already established in the computers and so no program had to be written to allow it; the Dezonians and Solar Council apparently assumed that the crew would simulate their lives on Unity after the virus was to wipe out their star charts six months into their mission and leave them “stranded” in deep space. Madrid drafts a simple and straightforward question with only two choices to pick from.

As he works, he cannot help but reflect on the highly detailed, even convoluted plan that the Dezonians and Solar Council set forth. Would their plan have ever worked, or was it a folly from the start? It would’ve been nice to explore deep space, living a peaceful life aboard a ship as grand as Unity. It’s unfortunate that things occurred the way that they did, and that now it’s come to this. Looking over the brief message, Madrid takes a moment before pressing the button and sending it to every home and office terminal, as he did with his first declassified message.

Rising from his chair and exiting his office, he braces himself against the doorframe once more. The crew look to him with concern, some of them slowly approaching. Several ask him if he’s truly alright, or if he needs medical attention. Silently nodding, he walks toward his captain’s chair and takes a seat. Their sentiment is touching, which he appreciates; their future feelings toward him could very well be less than pleasant.

“You’re going to want to take that vote now...”

The crew gradually disperse, heading for a nearby office to check the terminals there. Several minutes pass and soon Madrid sits alone. His mind races as he ponders the myriad possibilities of what he’s just done. After a time, he can hear the various footfalls of his crew approaching. He draws his blaster on impulse, stopping to question why he’d do such a thing. Looking down at the blaster in his hand, he has a brief flashback to the mob that roughly a week earlier tried to kill him in this very chamber, a direct result of being unable to cope with the truth that he’d revealed to them. He opts to keep the weapon in-hand, just in case.

Looking over his shoulder, the large, reinforced door slides open and the crew slowly march inside. Their shoulders are slumped and many look quite depressed and upset, however, none show hostility towards him. Is this what their defeat looks like? Madrid slowly and silently holsters his blaster before any can see it in his hand, watching the crew quietly returning to their consoles. Though they resume their work, they’re motions are slowed, as if they’re all suddenly sleep deprived. None of the crew speak a single word to each other; only the beeping and clicking of the consoles is heard.

Standing from the chair, Madrid walks toward his office. Entering the room and sealing himself in, Madrid sits at his desk and stares at the ceiling, slumped back in his chair. He gives the poll some time before checking the results. After an hour of deep thought, Madrid finally opens the polls, swiftly closing his eyes as the screen shifts. He’s almost too afraid to look upon the holographic image. Taking a deep breath, he holds it for a moment before slowly exhaling, lifting his eyelids as his lungs shrink.

“Unity cannot be piloted without a willing Dezonian, and we are too far from Sol to ever be rescued within our enhanced lifetimes. As a self-sustaining ship, with space for over two hundred thousand citizens, we now have two options...

1) Orbit this moon and live out our lives aboard Unity. (We will most likely never see Sol again)

2) Allow the Dezonians to program Azavia into the computer and attempt to complete the true mission. (We may see Sol several years from now)”

Looking over the tally, option two has received one hundred percent of the current votes, of which there are over eight thousand and counting. A shaking Madrid slumps back in his chair once again. His trembling hand runs his fingers through his long, brown hair as he closes his eyes tightly. For all that he’s done as a Sol Marine, and all that he’s seen through countless missions, he’s never been as close to death as the day he was shot, or felt such fear as when the mob surrounded him. Their visceral rage changed him, as did the tunnel of light that he recalls when lying atop the surgical table. Lifting his wrist, he audio-calls Miss Ayanda.

“Hello.”

“Hey... Did you vote yet?” He asks.

“I did.”

“So did nearly everyone else...”

“... And?” She asks after a pause.

“I need a Dezonian volunteer to come up here from tier nine and program Azavia into the computer. Keep them under guard.”

“I will. Anti-Dezonian sentiment is understandably common.” Miss Ayanda replies.

Under heavy guard, protected by scores of Irakus and Kanorakus soldiers, a Dezonian with a dark gray chitin enters the bridge some time later. It’s three heavy feet thud loudly as it approaches the special console. The crew’s eyes glare with rage, but they remain in place and say nothing. With its pincer-like hand, the Dezonian opens the hidden panel, activates the isolated navigational computer and begins working. It enters the strange code of colorful shapes as if it was the only writing it had ever used. The navigational console used by the crew begins to load, and a series of coordinates appear.

To the operator’s surprise, the virus truly did erase all stars from the cartographic data; there are no backups. There’s no Sol in sight, and Ir, Kanor and Dezos are not visible. A three-dimensional display of hexagonal sectors appears, with Unity floating in one, and Azavia somewhere near the center of another, hundreds of light-years away. Without stars mapped, Unity’s sensors can detect objects within range, so that when emerging from the warp bubble of hyperspace the ship doesn’t appear inside of or near dangerous astral bodies. With the sectors plotted and a straightforward course set, the Dezonian is swiftly ushered back to the safety of tier nine.

“Alright...” Madrid sighs. “Prepare to engage hyperdrive.”

“Yes, sir.” The pilot murmurs.

The cobalt blue and teal swirled light of the warp bubble envelopes Unity as her five massive engines once again hum with life. A subtle vertigo strikes everyone as the ship begins the jump, swiftly dissipating as the ship flies at astronomical speed to the first of many checkpoints. According to the computer’s calculations, it’ll take them approximated forty-two jumps, each jump lasting a week and each day traversing ten light years; they’ll reach the sector where Azavia resides in roughly ten months. With a new timer counting down before the end of the first of forty-two jumps, Madrid dismisses the crew.

With nothing left to do but sit and wait for the next jump, they all head back home, either to their apartments, or otherwise wander about the ship. Madrid himself knows that he shouldn’t expect Delilah for some time, and so he roams the halls. He pauses, standing before the cafeteria, recalling the time he’d shared with Sashuna. Thinking back, he wonders how much of their time was genuine. While not in love with her, the fact that she admitted to using him as a replacement still cut him deeply. Even so, he often missed her company as he sat alone in his hospital room; he misses her even now. Why would he, after the pain that she’s caused him? He doesn’t understand it.

With a morose sigh, he shakes off the thoughts before swiftly walking away. Hastily turning a corner without looking, Madrid slams into someone, feeling their fur brush his face and arms as they tumble over together.

“Oof! Watch it, you son of a... Hey captain!” August quickly changes his tune.

“Hey... Sorry about that.” Madrid quietly apologizes.

Rising to his feet, he holds out a hand to August, pulling the white tiger Voeldahn up from the floor.

“It’s fine, sir. I just wasn’t expecting you to come leaping out at me like that.” August laughs.

“I was... In a bit of a hurry.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

After a short staring match, Madrid subtly nods his head and walks around August, leaving him in the hallway. August notes his posture and expression, and it bothers him. Already guilt ridden over what happened to his captain, August takes a breath.

“Captain!”

“Yeah?” Madrid turns back.

“Business or personal?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You were walking awfully fast.” August remarks.

“Oh... Well, neither, honestly. I just needed to walk.”

“I was heading for the cafeteria... Care to join me?”

After a short pause, Madrid approaches August. The Voeldahn grins, slipping his clawed hands in his jacket pockets as he continues his walk. Neither he nor Madrid speak as they traverse the walkways and enter the cafeteria. Placing orders at a kiosk, they take a booth, sitting across from each other. Still, they remain silent. August, for the most part, simply can’t think of anything to say, while Madrid seems lost in his thoughts. Taking a greasy cheeseburger, August opens his maw, taking a bite out of the sloppily made sandwich.

“Heh.” Madrid suddenly chuckles.

“What?” August looks to him.

“Five-star restaurants aboard this ship that charge fast food prices, and we’re eating at a greasy spoon.” Madrid answers.

“It’s edible and convenient. I think that’s why mostly men eat here; we just want to not be hungry anymore. The fuck if we care what it is we’re eating.” August quips.

“True.”

With the ice having been broken, August clears his throat, setting his burger aside for the time being.

“Look, I’m... I’m sorry about before.”

“What’re you sorry for?” Madrid furls his brow in confusion.

“I stalled for time. I tried to save everyone. Sihl’Ahzen and Miss Ayanda wanted to go in shooting and rescue you, but I fucked it up.”

“You did what you thought was right August. I can’t blame you for that, and I’m not mad.”

“But if I’d just stayed out of their way, maybe you wouldn’t have been shot? Maybe less people would’ve died?” August retorts.

“You’re going to drive yourself insane playing out all of the ‘maybe’ and ‘what if’ scenarios. Take it from me, you don’t want that on your mind twenty-four seven. Even with all of that lovely Dezonian medicine pushing us into the hundred and eighties, life’s still too short for that shit.”

“And what do you think I should be worrying about instead?” August scoffs.

“Worry about something that you actually have a semblance of control over, which pretty much boils down to your personal life.” Madrid answers.

“Well, maybe you should take your own advice.” August retorts.

“I’m sorry?”

“I mean, you don’t seem yourself these days. Clearly you have a lot on your mind; it can’t all be just your personal life that’s bothering you.”

“My life is all I really worry about anymore...”

August sits in silence at Madrid’s response. The captain sits, staring with wide eyes at the table as if possessed. What happened to him that’s left him so broken? After a short pause, Madrid rises from the booth and collects his tray.

“So, what’ve we covered? Don’t feel bad for shit that isn’t your fault and stop dwelling on the past, especially when it’s also not your fault. Have a good one, August. I’ll see you around.”

Patting August on the shoulder, Madrid leaves him behind. On his way to the door, he tosses the leftovers into a bin marked for composting, before setting his tray alongside several others for cleaning. Looking over his shoulder, an arm on the backrest of his booth, August watches as Madrid leaves the cafeteria and disappears into the city of their tier. After finishing his meal, he receives a text message from Annette, reminding him that she’s home. Clearing his table, he soon leaves the cafeteria as well, heading directly for Annette’s apartment complex.

“Hey!” Annette chirps.

She swiftly throws her arms around August’s neck as he steps into her apartment, giving him many kisses upon his face.

“It’s good to see you too, babe.” He replies, a hand resting on the small of her back.

“But you haven’t seen all of me yet.” She whimpers, her little bunny tail dancing from side to side.

August grins. Though he smiles, he seems somehow distant. Annette takes notice. Her tail stops swishing and she straightens her back. With a softened brow, the snow-white bunny Voeldahn brushes her dyed pink hair from her face, cocking her head as she looks to her lover.

“What’s wrong?”

“... Can we talk for a minute?”

“Of course!” She chirps.

Taking his hand, she leads him further into her apartment, directly to the bedroom. The pair sit at the foot on the bed. With her lips curled into a little smile, she waits patiently for August to begin speaking.

“Do you remember Fizona? You might’ve seen her before.”

“... Yeah... The orange Kanorakus...” She murmurs, her smile fading.

“Before you and I ever met, I was with her.”

“Oh... Do you still...?”

“No! We’re not together and we were never close enough for me to love her; she made sure of that.” He quickly assures her.

“I see.”

“Well, she came to me recently to tell me that because of our previous relationship, she’s pregnant.”

“What?” Annette asks with a startled chuckle, her eyes wide.

“It was before we met, and I didn’t even know about that until recently!” He quickly explains.

“... And now what does she want?” She sheepishly asks.

“Nothing, actually. She doesn’t want my help with it, or even want me around, but she told me anyway. She thought I needed to know.”

“Oh!” Annette chirps, her smile returning and little bunny tail swishing once more. “Sooo, why are you telling me?”

“Well, I just thought that you needed to know. This is kind of a big deal, at least to me. I care about you Annette, a lot, and I don’t want us to have secrets.”

Taking her into his arms, she can feel his warmth. She grins from cheek to cheek as they embrace, resting her cheek upon his shoulder. She’s beyond elated that this news doesn’t affect their relationship in any notable way. August nuzzles her cheek, kissing her softly. His hands slowly slip beneath her top and up her back, rubbing the short, soft coat of fur that covers her body. One of Annette’s hands finds its way to his belly, sliding down to his groin where she carefully removes his belt. She pulls back to plant a kiss upon his lips, their tongues briefly entwining. He lifts her top from her body, her arms over her head as he undresses her. Annette’s breasts are swiftly exposed to him as he pulls the shirt away, tossing it to the side.

“Wait.” She suddenly says.

“What?”

He looks into her big blue eyes, smiling warmly.

“No secrets... Right?”

“Right.”

“And you won’t be mad?” She asks.

“I won’t be mad.”

“You promise?!”

August feels his gut tightening. He suddenly becomes nervous. She looks almost afraid to speak, her brow sorrowful as she stares right into his soul with her gleaming sapphires. Swallowing audibly, he wrestles with the tension.

“I promise.” He says, nodding his head once.

“Okay...” She lowers her head. “I... I ate your salmon filet last night and let you blame Draz.”

Turning her head up to him, she smiles wide. August can’t help but laugh.

“You little skank.” He chuckles.

“Do you forgive me?” She cutely pouts.

“Sure, but you still need to be punished.” He winks.

Leaning in, he kisses her passionately, his arms tightening around her body as they fall back atop the bed.