#alien armor

The yautja gave her a scathing look and clicked harshly, only receiving a widening grin in response.

“Don’t hash me like that, we were stuck together for years. You don’t scare me dearest one.”

“I should.”

“And yet here we are, discussing your fashion.”

“Not fashion.”

“Mm, I beg to differ.”

“Beg harder.”

Bea barked a laugh and amicably smacked his arm. “You’re hilarious as always. But no, I’ve noticed those fishnet looking shirts and tights you wear.” She hummed and twirled her pen in her hand, “But why? Wouldn’t it be easier to wear nothing?”

Rho sighed and flicked a switch that lit up green and disappeared. She assumed autopilot as he stood and ducked into his living quarters. Well…their living quarters technically. It’s not like she didn’t sleep in his bed every night.

Grumpily, Rho returned with the garment in question, much to Bea’s surprise. “Wait, you have one? And you don’t wear it? Why?”

Rho didn’t answer, opting to sit heavily in his chair, urging her with a silent gaze.

To her fascination, as Bea fingered the garment she found that between the fishnet like patterns was a thin slick membrane. It had some give but she couldn’t put her fingers through it.

“Not fishnets.”

“Mm, less defense to favor mobility then, right?” She guessed, pressing the membrane taut, “but you’re bulky and like metal armors.”

Rho simply nodded as Bea continued to play with the foreign material. “You should wear this.”

Rho raised a brow ridge at her, “why?”

“Fishnets are sexy and you have big thighs.”

“Not fishnets.”

“Okay, you have killer thighs. Do I get my brownie points now?”

“Insufferable.”

“Maybe, but indulge me anyway?”

“No.”

“But it’s such a good excuse to strip you out of all your armor.”

Rho paused and side-eyed her again. She caught one of his top mandibles tick slightly upward. A smirk. “I am driving.”

“What? Never heard of a quickie?”

Rho laughed this time, a sort of amiable defeat to the tones and clicks. With little effort he scooped her into one arm, his dreads tumbling over her shoulders. He shuddered as Bea twirled them between her fingers.

“Bad influence.”