The man had gone into the kitchen to fetch them some drinks. When he came back into the living room, he carried a tray with a pitcher of what looked suspiciously like avanthnar. He glanced at her as he poured the yellow-red liquid into two glasses.

“Why are you so emotional?” he asked.

The blue woman stared blankly at him. When she responded, her voice was as expressionless as her face.

“All my life, I have been an outcast. To see my kind live so freely among humans is... I have no words for it.”

“How do you know...” He paused. Blinked. “Oh. You are that one. I have heard of you.” He handed her one of the glasses.

Mrill took it as she probed once more into his mind.

He had indeed. And not in flattering terms.

Udran sat opposite her.

“Why are you here?” he asked. Though he sounded more confused than concerned.

“There is a bounty on your head,” she said flatly. “But I will not collect it if you tell me where this place is.”

She sniffed at her glass. The scent was right on the mark.

“A bounty? On my head? Whatever for?”

He seemed even more puzzled now.

Mrill dipped her lips into the liquid and felt her skin tingle just the right way. She pulled back without drinking, simply enjoying for now the sensation of that momentary brush.

“I don’t know. It is not good for business to ask questions in my line of work. Will you tell me what I wish to know?”

Udran shrugged as he drank from his glass. “Of course. It is no secret. It’s a rimworld called Naladen. There are many species there. But no one judges anyone.”

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The blue woman finally took a small sip and closed her eyes. There was silence in the room for a couple of minutes, as the man understood she needed to experience this in her own way.

Her eyes flickered open and she stared at him.

“Your avanthnar is divine,” she said blankly. “Where do you buy it?”

Udran laughed. “I make it myself.”

Avanthnar was a traditional drink from her homeworld, made with a mixture of fruits and herbs, macerated in alcohol.

“How is this possible?”

“I learned the recipe from your people. On Naladen.”

She stared at him quietly.

“Why did you leave?” she asked after a moment.

“I didn’t. Not exactly. I mean, I did, but not forever. I will go back. Soon. But I needed to see people. For work.”

“What do you do?”

He smiled and pointed at the pitcher.

“Import and export. Mostly foods and drinks. Specialties from all around the Imperium and beyond.”

“You cook everything yourself?”

He laughed. “Hardly! But I do like my avanthnar.”

“You sell it too?”

“I try, but few people have the buds to appreciate it.”

For the Vrons, alcohol was an enhancer, but it did not have the same effect on them as it did on humans. It helped clear their minds and feel the littlest details of the drink they were consuming and of the glass that contained it. Sometimes, it could extend to other things—objects around them, even people.

Mrill reluctantly put the glass down. She needed to focus, and this was too distracting.

“You are not what I expected,” she said.

“What did you expect?”

“An evil man. Someone with bad things on his conscience.”

“Would it make your job easier?”

“No. It doesn’t matter.”

“Why not?”

She stared at her glass. “It is work. It is legal. That is all that matters.”

“I assume it’s good money, too. How much did they offer for me?”

“Two million credits,” she said flatly.

Gulen Udran choked on his drink.

“What? Who the hell would want me that bad? That makes no sense.”

“You must have enemies.”

“Not that I know of.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me! I’d rather not have an army of bounty hunters breathing down my back.”

“You won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’ll tell my boss you’re dead.”

“Won’t he need proof?”

“No. They wanted you alive.”

The man frowned, looking confused again.

“Does that mean you won’t collect?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she repeated.

“Two million credits don’t matter?”

She grabbed the glass and very slowly downed the contents.

Udran watched her with fascination, though it was unclear whether it was for what she was doing or what she had said.

After gently placing the glass back on the table, she stood.

“Thank you for the exquisite avanthnar. I shall cherish the memory of your gift.”

She inclined her head, then walked to the door without looking back.