Simone descends the stairs wearing the ballgown she discovered in the upstairs bedroom. Crank turns as she nears the bottom of the staircase. He takes in her form with a rapidly beating heart. For an ooman female, she looks exceedingly beautiful. He focuses on the gentle slope of her shoulders, her radiant smile, and eyes sparkling with mischief. Simone’s curly hair just skims her bare shoulders and bounces loosely against the flesh of her back.

Paul Bunyan interrupts Crank’s admiration of Simone with a cough and an outburst of laughter.

“Wow,” Paul exclaims. He stops searching for more liquor and stares at Simone. “You clean up real good, lady.”

Simone drops her head in embarrassment. Crank shoots Paul a stare which could melt icecaps. Paul grows silent and continues his search for alcoholic libation. Reaching out a hand, Crank is happy when Simone accepts it. He guides her to a table and she sits down. Crank removes the canister of alien world water from his implement belt and offers it to Simone. She resolutely shakes her head.

“No, we need to save it,” Simone explains. “Until we find another water source, we don’t dare drink the only water we have. We can search again once the dust storm abates. There has to be a well or a water pump around here somewhere. It’s a saloon, for crying out loud. Bar owners were notorious for watering down their drinks to make them go further.”

Crank takes off the oversized hoodie and reaches behind him. He retrieves his face mask which is strapped to his back.

“There’s no need to wait, Simone. My mask is infrared,” Crank says. “I could go out there and find the water.”

Simone glances over at Paul Bunyan, to see if he has noticed Crank’s very non-human appearance. Paul is too engaged with his search for alcohol to notice much of anything.

“Crank…” Simone whispers—leaning over the table so that only he can hear her. “Put your shirt back on. We don’t want—”

The sound of glass bottles hitting the floor jolts Simone and Crank upright. Paul Bunyan stands straight as a rod behind the bar. His gaze is directed right at Crank. Too late.

“What in the heavens are you?” Paul says dropping the glass bottle still held in his hand. “I mean, what the hell are you?”

Paul asks the question, but his eyes and mind already know the answer. He points a finger at Simone and laughs.

“It’s all making sense, now,” Paul says with a snicker.

Leaning on his wooden walking stick, Paul carefully maneuvers around the counter and heads to their table.

“The rain slicker. The backpack, you refused to let out of your sight. The jacket that’s about four sizes too big," Paul rants animatedly.

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"The way you defended me in the bar, little lady," Paul continues. "You knew your boyfriend here was a little green man. Well, not so little…And not all that green. But you knew, he wasn’t from around here. That’s why you believed my story. You know, there’s more things in Heaven and Earth than can be explained through book-learning.”

Simone rises to her feet, she leans over the table and grimaces in Paul’s direction. Crank is unable to keep his eyes from wandering to her bosom, the first intimate flesh he has viewed since meeting her almost two days before.

“You’re only half right, Paul,” Simone hisses angrily. “I didn’t believe your story. I just didn’t like how that red-headed buffoon and that woman named Sue were making fun of you. I can’t abide bullying. And yes, I did know that Crank was an alien. Er, well…I found out last night. But, he’s not my boyfriend. I…I don’t think.”

Simone’s voice trails off and she scrunches her face—trying to decide exactly what Crank is to her. Are they lovers? Would they ever be? Is that even possible?

Crank is hurt by Simone’s confession, but attempts not to show it. He puts the mask on his face and prepares to head outside. Simone grabs his forearm and starts to follow him.

“I’ll go with you—“ she insists.

However, Crank puts a hand over Simone's; which is still resting on his forearm. He shakes his head vehemently.

“There’s no need for both of us to go,” Crank says, very little emotion in his voice. “I will return once I have found water.”

Simone senses that she has offended him and pushes the issue.

“But, you don’t know what you’re looking for. I can help you,” Simone implores him.

Her eyes search Crank’s face for any hint he is considering her point of view. The mask makes it difficult to tell. However, his words leave no room for doubt.

“I’ll know,” Crank says. His eyes remain fixed on Simone’s. “You stay here.”

Crank pushes the door panels open and steps out into the dust storm. Simone leans on the door frame. She shields her eyes, in order to see as far into the storm as possible. Crank’s form becomes nothing more than a silhouette, as he gets further and further away. Simone cups both hands over her mouth and calls to him.

“Crank, I’m sorry…” Simone hollers into the raging dust gale. “For whatever I said. I’m sorry.”

Crank halts his movement and whirls in the direction of Simone’s strained voice. He considers going to her, taking her into his arms, but thinks better of it. At the moment, finding water is more important. He will find her water. Everything else will have to come later.

Trudging into the heart of the gale, Crank quickly loses sight of the saloon. His heart sinks as he contemplates Simone's words to Paul Bunyan. How could he have been so foolish?

Even in his youth, growing up amongst many brothers and sisters; Crank had known he was different. He was not suited for the life of a warrior hunter. But what else is there?

Losing the great Cha'tal had divided many of his clan. Those who wished to continue the great leader's legacy of coexistence amongst factions and species. And those who wished to lay waste to every foe. There were even rumors that the outbreak of Keinde Amedha aboard Cha'tal's habitat had been an assassination attempt. A successful one.

Hope had quickly faded from Crank's mind. Hope of coexistence with the oomans. A chance to share in their technological advancement. To help improve their world. To watch them grow into the society he believes they can be.

A world where he and Simone can be together. Without fear and above reproach. A world where he will no longer need to wear an ooman disguise to be with the one he loves. If she will have him.

Peering back through the wind and sand, Crank imagines that Simone is there beside him. Under his mask, his mandibles stretch into a coy mockery of a human smile. He almost chuckles. If Simone were here, she would chastise him for risking destroying his disguise. But she is not here. Except in his heart.