Bab 232: Chapter 232: French Braid

"We will go to the bar again," he said the next day. She'd woken on the floor of the shuttle, that had somehow become softer, a silver blanket covering her. He'd been sitting at the consoles grunting at it.

"Until Morgan decides to make an appearance, I don't suppose we have much choice."

He grunted and motioned to her hair. "I will do your hair." He'd made it into one of his intricate basket weaves overnight. She'd been tempted to choke him when she saw what he'd done while she slept. She had no problem with him doing all the work undoing it now.

"Make a French braid, like you did yesterday. That works well when we are working." If she couldn't stop him messing her hair, she'd give him some directions. Lots of directions.

He helped her to sit on the bench and then went to work on her hair. "I am working; you are merely accompanying me."