silver is the grip on the helping hand

He stopped crying so fast it was like a switch flipped. He drew in one last snotty breath as his head shot up. Smacking into her chin, which he had forgotten rested on his head. He twisted awkwardly to turn and look at her. Slack jawed with astonishment as he stared at her. She was speaking a language he knew, but maybe he didn't know it as well as he thought. He couldn't have heard her right, there was some translation issue at play here.


Loved. Given my name alien concepts. His mother had told him he was barely worthy of his father's name, and it was a good thing she was a woman because she certainly wouldn't have given him hers. She wanted to do a hell of a lot more than speak for him at The Thing. He wiped his eyes, still staring. "And if I refuse?" He asked. Because he wanted to know her threshold, see what he could push. He was yet to see her mad.