Zale wandered back to the apartment by himself, hands in his pockets and humming tunelessly. He never was particularly good with making music, for all he listened to it constantly for nearly two years. Those who can't create could at least enjoy, right? At the moment, he wasn't even sure if there was a tune he had in mind to go with the not-quite-music, but he really didn't mind. He was in a good mood.

He'd paid for Wiro and Silent Melody to have the rest of the afternoon to themselves at one of the sun-spas scattered across the station, one of the ones with a dragon-sized pool no less, and left them to chat and cuddle as they would. Somehow he didn't see the pairing itself lasting beyond the clutching, but at least Wiro had found a friend, and for that he was happy for her. As for himself, he was content to let her be happy for a while, and he'd keep Cannon company.

The flight had gone well, despite Wiro's concern, as he'd known it would. Dragons had been having first flights for as long as there'd been dragons who mated on the wing, and rarely did anything go wrong, particularly not when the chasers were all friendly! Zale had never had a doubt that things would be fine, but slightly proddy, very nervous maiden-dragons were harder to convince. At least there would be no more need of convincing, anymore, and hopefully this wouldn't happen to her too often. Zale couldn't imagine what it would be like having a clutch every year, or even every other year....

Not something I'd like, and I'm not even the one carrying or laying the eggs.

Zale stepped out of the lift on deck five, level thirty-two: the deck and level of the apartment, though he was several blocks down from it. He rarely got off at the closest lift access portal, preferring to walk at least a little ways. Sometimes Wiro would walk with him, or fly alongside, looping around in the air and showing off, or making him laugh when she fumbled or nearly hit someone else in the somewhat crowded airspace of the residential decks. She would know his amusement immediately, of course, and either be annoyed with him or amused, as well, depending on her mood. Usually amused.

For once, today, Wiro's thoughts were nowhere near his, just as she was several decks away, cavorting in one of the sun-spas pools or basking in the artificial sunlight. He resolutely didn't try to focus his attention on her, determined to let her enjoy her post-flight relaxation with Melody. Though he was a little surprised her friend Linelith hadn't persevered, Melody seemed like a good fellow, as well; he was here in search of a bond, himself, and had actually met Wiro by running into her. An amusing change of circumstances. Wiro wasn't exactly clumsy-- she wasn't clumsy at all-- but she had a tendency to get too excited and forget to look where she was going. This time, though, it had been someone else who had run into her, and it just seemed ironic that this was the dragon she ultimately chose to "catch" her, herself.

And now I'm going to leave them alone together for a while, he told himself as he walked along the "sidewalk" of the level, the railed-in walkway that served as a street.

Of course, being happy for her didn't mean he couldn't be a little lonely, without her company.

God, I'm hopeless, he thought with a little chuckle. Addicted to my dragon, instead of a drug. Better get home to Cannon and my music, before I go into withdrawl.

The last couple blocks seemed an awfully long way, though, and by the time Zale finally reached the turn-in for his front door-- thankfully the first one on the left, given they had a dragoner apartment with a launching ledge-- his hands were shaking. Frowning at them, he gave his electronic key a click, and the door slid noiselessly open to admit him. He put them back in his pocket to keep them still, and went inside.

The phone was ringing.

"Oh, no," he groaned, and made a run for the kitchen, where the phone was sitting. Where it usually sat, in its charging cradle, since so few people ever called. It was, actually, almost always a scramble to get to it, since it rarely rang when someone was conveniently in the kitchen. One of these days I'm going to get a voice activated one!

Cannon, glad to see him home and heedless of the annoying thing that was the telephone, came bounding up to greed him and, not expecting his generally slow owner to be moving quite so fast, ended up tangling in his legs. This time Zale couldn't avoid it: he and the dog went tumbling down in a mess of limbs and fur, while the phone kept ringing.

"Cannon, hold still!" he exclaimed, trying to get back to his feet while fending off enthusiastic dog-kisses. The dog obediently, if reluctantly, backed off, tail wagging and tongue hanging out, replacing his usually mournful look with something more cheerful. "Good boy," Zale sighed, and took a step towards the phone--

--Too late. The voice mail picked up, and it stopped ringing. Sighing again, Zale brushed his hair vaguely back into place, gave Cannon's ears a ruffle, and made a more leisurely path to the phone to check for a message. Not that I really like talking on the phone, anyway, he consoled himself. He just hated missing phone calls. If it was someone important, like his brother, and he was expected to be here, the person on the other end would worry. Not that anyone had, had reason to worry for two years now, but sometimes old habits died hard.

Still, the desire to keep the important people from worrying led to a lot of "conversations" with salespeople. Thankfully, Zale's general lack of conversability usually made those conversations short....

"Good boy," Zale repeated fondly as Cannon followed him into the kitchen to wash his face and hands after their liberal bathing in dog-saliva before he tried picking up the phone.

Sure enough, someone had left a message. "Play message," he told the phone-- at least the computer on the other end, handling voice mail, understood voice commands, even though the phone itself didn't.

Then, when the message began obediently to play, he momentarily forgot to breathe.

"Heeey, Zale! Been a while, where've you been, man? Ran into an old mutual friend, heard you'd gone and bonded a dragon. Good for you!"

He hadn't heard that voice in three years. He didn't want to hear that voice. Delete it. Stop the message. Zale, stop the message.

Whatever made Zale do what his good senses told him to do wasn't listening.

"I've missed you, man! You were one of my best customers-- good guy, to boot! Give me a call some time; I've got some great new stuff, you're gonna love it."

Hang up. Tell it to delete. Hang up! Zale, you idiot, do something!

Finally he remembered how to move, and he fumbled at the keys to disconnect the call, trying not to hear the number rattled off once, twice, then a third time just in case he'd missed it the first time. He didn't get the phone off until the last couple words of the message, cutting it off at, "See ya rou-" and dropping the phone onto the floor as if it had burned him. Maybe it had. He was certainly shaking enough.

Zale hadn't realized he'd slid to the ground until Cannon gave his nose a tentative lick, whining a bit at his owner's odd behavior. He pushed the dog's face out of his absently, and put his head into his hands.

I don't know how, I don't know who he talked to, but he found me.... I wish he'd never have found me.... I only just started to feel like I had my life back....

His old dealer, after all, was the last person he ever wanted to talk to. 

Chapter Ten

Back