The worst part about being mostly human is definitely the bones. They're just so frail. Easily broken. Take forever to mend. Really, evolution didn't do too hot of a job on humans in general, but it could have at least given them a base structure that wasn't prone to snapping at the slightest bit of pressure.
Or a thirty story fall from a high speed hover car charging down an elevated highway on an unfamiliar planet.
But who's keeping track, right?
Definitely not Jericho, who's currently hiding out back at his brakka's place after the guy insisted he stay home for a while to mend and get back on his feet. Literally.
Jay's never been good at telling Korbel no.
Which is how he finds himself laid up at gramps' house on the Moon Colony, beneath the translucent bubble neatly terraformed to resemble fucking Kansas or something. Jay's never been. The wheat field his grandpa tends is a familiar comfort, though.
The big fuck off alien he'd seen while limping up the front porch steps, down the hall and into his room (always kept clean, like Korbel constantly anticipates a surprise visit)—
Yeah, that guy's definitely not.
His brakka, apparently, had been playing a game of cards when some passing rich dick had called in and thrown in a paper, a contract, into the pot. Korbel had assumed it was the pink slip to a car or something, guy always got a little tipsy on poker night at the bar, but when he raked in the winnings and stepped outside to pick up his ride, well.
The "ride" in particular was apparently more to Jay's tastes.
Laid up in his room with a cast on his leg and nothing to fucking do until weak bones mend themselves, Jay had grilled his brakka about the more-animal-than-not looking alien taking up boocoos of space at the family farm house. Apparently the thing's under some old slave contract. When Korbel had went to city hall to break it, they'd informed him the process would be a lot more complicated than using up the third wish to free the genie.
In the meantime, Korbel's asked this thing to help out around the farm, and Jericho's currently stuck on this same farm, willing his broken leg to heal faster so he can put proper moves on the alien and get a hard dicking before traipsing off to find another job across the universe.
First night back home and things have definitely gotten weird while he was away.
It's with this thought in mind that Jericho hefts himself up off the bed at two in the morning and hobbles gracelessly down the hall towards the kitchen, in search of water. He doesn't turn on any lights as he goes, Brakian genes give him that handy night vision and all. Still, he startles when he steps into the quaint little kitchen and spots a monstrous figure looming in the dark.
"Oh, jesus fucking christ." Slaps his hand against the wall to balance himself.
A hot jolt of fear skitters up his spine, so heavy he's sure it sticks along the room like a smell.
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