Lois smiled, remembering his self-conscious reaction when their fingers had collided over a jigsaw piece. His progress was remarkable. She had to keep reminding herself that there *had* to be damage. Alien ... human ... it didn't matter. *No one* could suffer what he had suffered and not be terribly wounded.
On the other hand, she could simply offer and see where it leads
Linda would show her a way through the minefield of falling in love with an alien from another planet who had been horrifically imprisoned for seven years and was probably almost old enough to be her father.
/goes and hands Lois a pair of laser cutters/
And ... if she caught herself dwelling too long on the ripped muscles of his forearms or the curves of his calves or the breadth of his back ... well ...
Lois chuckled.
She was sure of what Linda would have said.
You're a woman, Lane; he's a man. Everything else is an unnecessary complication.
"Neither can I," she replied.
And me, too!
Michael
