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Harper's stomach rumbled, and he quickened his pace. He'd finished the snacks he kept in his quarters while he was working late on a bit of mechanism that had proved too cranky in the shop. Fortunately, he'd had his secret weapon for frozen mechanisms (and many other purposes) in his quarters, so he'd brought the obnoxious bit of machinery back there to grease it. Yeah. And it had worked, too, but he'd gotten the munchies afterward, and wasn't that a cliche?
As he walked past Tyr's door he heard a muffled roar. Or was it more of a whimper? He had to stop and listen. It was a mater of security. No, not curiosity. Him curious? No way. He just had to be sure there wasn't some ... thing or someone in there taking advantage of Tyr if Tyr didn't want to be taken advantage of.
As if.
This time it sounded like a frustrated whimper, and that gave Harper the nerve to knock on the door. Tyr might sound like almost anything if he were in the midst of a liaison, but Harper would be willing to take bets that frustrated and whimpering were not on the menu.
"What?" Tyr roared.
"Um. You okay in there? I, um, heard something and it didn't sound ... well ... is everything okay?"
A pause.
"Enter." Tyr's voice sounded resigned, as if he had decided to give up the quest for the renewal of Kodiak Pride and take up canoe carving or raising hydroponic skinks.
The door opened. Harper stepped in and stopped one step into the room. His jaw fell open; he couldn't help it.
Tyr wasn't naked; he was decently dressed in his more leisurely skintight brown leather pants, as opposed to the formal armored black ones. But he had ... how had he ... well, there was the hair, and the chainmail, and more hair, writhing like snakes in a net ...
Harper picked up his jaw and stifled a chuckle. The last thing he needed was for Tyr to think he was being laughed at when he seemed to be in trouble. Actually, for Tyr to let him into the room when he was a hostage to his armor showed a great deal of trust.
"If you're going to stand there, you might as well be useful," Tyr muttered through his teeth. "Untangle the back of this."
"Sure thing."
And sure enough, Tyr turned his back to Harper and sat on the edge of the bed, so Harper could carefully -- very carefully -- pull each strand of Tyr's long hair out of the chainmail, where it had gotten twisted and caught between rings.
"How'd it happen?"
He wasn't sure it was really happening,but it looked as if Tyr had flushed. "I fell asleep without taking it off."
"You sleep in chain mail?" Even for a Nietzschian that seemed extreme.
"No. I told you, I fell asleep. I was working on the exohull on the long line, checking the seals that the ship said had been damaged by that firefight yesterday.."
"I thought Rommie sent the 'bots to check."
"She did. She wasn't satisfied with their report, and you were busy."
"Well, yeah, I was. So she had you in a hard suit on the long line? Whew. Yeah, that'll wear you out fast. I don't care what they say about things being weightless in space, it still takes effort to move them, and to keep you from moving with them."
"Yes."
"Hold still. Almost done."
Tyr sat like a statue carved of some expensive wood, but most wood statues on Earth weren't representational. Older statues in marble were, though; there had been one that Harper had seen in a photo as a child, an ancient marble statue carved by some Greek named Michael something. Yeah. That was it. Every muscle in place, and ready. With effort Harper turned his attention to the last few strands, which had gotten caught among several of the interlinked rings and needed to be disentangled one by one.
"All done." He stepped back.
Tyr's shoulders and back rippled as he shrugged, carefully, making sure his hair was attached once again only to himself. "Thank you."
"Right. You're welcome." Harper tried not to watch too much as Tyr pulled on what looked like a loose chocolate sweater with slashed sleeves. "What, no armor?"
"The material will stop knives and bullets, and will disperse the blast of a force lance." Tyr raised an eyebrow. "You think I need more for today?"
"No, no, I'm sure you'll be fine." He was backing toward the door, bouncing on his toes a little. To the best of his knowledge this was the first time Tyr had allowed anyone into his quarters, though Beka had hinted that she'd seen them. She'd probably just stood in the doorway, he realized, because he was seeing more than Beka had described. For one thing, Beka hadn't mentioned the workbench, around the corner from the bed, with tools and equipment neatly stored and stacked. Some of the tools were obvious; of course Tyr would have plyers and metal for fixing his chain mail. Some were more unexpected. Was that a genetic sampler?
"You, um, expecting to find spare relatives out there in the universe?" he said casually.
Tyr observed him for what felt like a lot longer than it probably was. "There's no way to know. Not everyone who lived on my homeworld was there when the Drago-Kazov came."
"True, true." He was standing in Tyr's room discussing Tyr's private business. The door felt cool behind him. Breakfast was starting to feel like an even more necessary idea.
"Have you eaten?"
"What? Oh, no, just heading there..."
"I was planning to make myself an omelette; I'll make two."
"Hey, thanks. All food gratefully appreciated."
Tyr hesitated a second, then said, "I am glad you came by. I have not cut my hair since I left home."
"Hey, no problem. At least I managed to get it loose without having to use my secret ingredient."
Oops.
"Secret ingredient?" Tyr cocked his head, curious. "Is this something you might be willing to discuss over breakfast?"
"Maybe. I usually discuss it over dinner."
"Then I'll look forward to hearing all about it." Tyr smiled at him, as if he knew exactly what Harper was thinking, and ushered him back into the hall. "It's always useful to know of something that will help reduce friction between hard objects."
"Yeah." Harper nodded. "Always good to have a little technology for those too-tight situations."
"To make them more ... slippery."
They stopped in the hall. Tyr was watching him as if a new thought had burst into his mind, shedding light on shadowed areas. "If you like," he said, as if it didn't matter, "we could have lunch later. I'm told I'm an excellent chef."
"What about being hungry now?" Harper retorted.
"I think I can take care of that, back in my quarters."
"Okay. But if you want to know about my technological genius, I'll have to stop by my place first."
Tyr looked amused. "How about if we compromise on the guest quarters down the hall?"
"Bigger bed. Better mattress. I like the way you think, Anasazi."