#thezuuma

It wasn’t everyday he picked up a strange ship signal on Earth. Aside from poachers, few aliens bothered coming here. Didn’t want to run afoul of the Confederation, yet one brave soul seemed not to care what that interspecies government thought.

His search had brought him to an island, the signal too weak to give him particulars. However, it was nothing his nose couldn’t handle. He wondered, briefly, if he’d been here before.

Areban lifts his hand slowly, knowing better than to make sudden moves when he’s a bow and arrow pointted at him. The action shows the pair of mug-sized tea cups that he held in his hand. It wasn’t that he was particularly scared at the moment, no more than anyone might normally be when a bow was leveled at them. Rather, he was answering her question.

“I brought tea.” He says simply, “I would lii-like to share it. And, offer an ear, if- if you would allow it.” The minotaur lowers himself to the ground, careful not to spill the pot of tea on his way down, and lays down his staff once the pot is no longer hanging from it.

   “Well, okay, it won’t. He’ll never know. Because as much as I love him I’m smart and he’s. Well, he’s kind of dumb. Look you--”

   She swipes at him and 02 takes a careful step back. He knows when not to approach someone that’s dangerous and aggressive--because they’re freshly hurt. Unlike someone I’m looking at, says the mean little part of his head, which he silences quickly. Nu-uh, not here. There’s a lot of people to blame all around, he thinks.

   “You kind of do,” He says, sparing her not a single ounce of any fake sympathy because he’s LA-02 and brutal honesty is how he is, “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try to help. Might argue that he deserved to get his arm cut off. Still helped.”

   No need to kick someone while they’re down. Her mention returning makes him presume the arm that Xaallo buried, and he looks to her stump.

At this point, Z’uuma has accepted the visitors that keep showing up when she cooks. However, this one did catch her by surprise since she hadn’t even had anything being roasted or grilled.

“I’m only making Poke Bowls, if you’re into raw fish. It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

She’d glance over her shoulder to see her intruding guest. Not that her home was keen on stopping visitors. Her only door was a long cloth after all.

[ Jean gets bold when he’s trying to survive somewhere new, much like a starving coyote. He doesn’t seem to care much that he’s literally trespassing, and as soon as Z’uuma greets him with anything but aggression, he steps further into the room, interested. ]

[ She looks familiar, in terms of her biology, but the lack of fur and the extra set of arms is all it takes for Jean to discount any similarities to that Xaallo guy as pure coincidence. He’s got no interest in connecting dots right now. ]

Xaallo’s nostrils flared. The wrapped item...it smelled familiar. It smelled like him, if he’d been rotting for a few days. A few wrinkles appeared in his muzzle, as he suspected what it might be.

And then he saw. The wrap came loose and revealed his arm. The one Lusamine had taken. Xaallo looked at it for a good long while, and continued to do so as Z’uuma spoke.

What was the meaning of this?

He only looks up when she mentions his demands. There was no way Z’uuma had wrested this arm free of Lusamine’s grip. It must’ve been given, no, exchanged. Why? Xaallo creased his brow, golden eyes sheening with anger at what an exchange possibly meant.

She made to leave, but Xaallo made to follow her.

“So.” He began.

“You’ve thrown your lot in with her. Is that it?”