Simone is on her feet, and heading for the door to the warehouse, when Crank enters. He nearly plows into her. Simone regards him with concern--a current of fear creeping into her veins. She has never seen him quite like this. The vengeful nature of Crank's thoughts is almost palpable in the still afternoon air.
“Crank? What’s going on?” She inquires.
Crank's conversation with Paul Bunyan has left him very angry and confused. He glances at the lounging Sherlock Holmes and a cruel sneer turns up the corner of his mouth. Crank's chest heaves up and down, and his eyes narrow menacingly.
“Nothing,” Crank responds. He is careful to keep his eyes averted.
“It’s not nothing,” Simone replies. She cups his face with a warm hand. “I saw it in your eyes. Something has upset you. What is it? Crank? What is wrong?”
Crank angrily whips a hand in the air. He continues to avoid making eye contact with Simone. Instead, he focuses on a crate lying on the opposite end of the room. Anything to keep from turning his angry eyes on her. She has done nothing to earn his wrath.
“This. All of this. That is what’s wrong?” Crank whispers hoarsely. “I don’t like feeling powerless. I don’t like being vulnerable. This situation is growing more and more unbearable by the moment. It makes me want to hunt again. To gather trophies—.”
Crank motions toward the now slumbering Sherlock Holmes with a head nod, his beaded braids whipping around with the forceful action.
“Starting with that one,” Crank says in a deep growl.
Simone places her other hand at Crank’s cheek and turns his head back in her direction. Her voice is soft and reassuring.
“You don’t really mean that,” Simone says. “Besides, I don’t think he would make an honorable kill right now. I saw him reach into a pouch some time ago. Right now, he’s higher than an orbital shuttle on that opium he told us about. It wouldn’t be very sporting.”
Simone stands on tiptoe and pulls Crank down to her level. She whispers kindly into his ear. Their cheeks brush, and a tremor traverses Crank's spine. Ghosts of past traditions tugging at his very essence.
“I think we should go elsewhere to talk," Simone whispers. "We can inform the others that we have chosen different accommodations later."
Crank nods in agreement, but continues to frown, his mind still toying with the idea of Sherlock’s polished skull hanging from the mesh about his back. Simone senses Crank is not quite over his desire to claim Sherlock’s head, and hurries him out of the warehouse.
-
-
Paul enters the warehouse to find Sherlock Holmes reading loudly from a book of poetry. The burly frontiersman freezes in his tracks and stares with disbelief at the man who calls himself the "World's Greatest Detective".
Sherlock’s trousers are wrapped around his head like a turban. What Paul Bunyan mistook for poetry is actually gibberish. Reddish dirt is smeared over the English detective’s bare chest and forearms. He is playing out some form of strange fantasy. While wearing only his underwear.
Raising both hands in the air, Paul retreats out of the warehouse and heads for the barn. He quickly decides he will be safer with the animals. As Paul makes his way back to the barn, he considers the oddness of Sherlock Holmes' behavior. At least, now he knows how the Englishman lost his trousers to a goat.
-
-
Simone pushes open the door to the farmhouse and steps inside. Crank tries to squeeze in ahead of her, in order to ensure the way is clear, but Simone gently places a hand on his upper chest.
"There's no need," she says calmly. "This place has been shut up for a long time. You can smell it in the air. There's no danger here. It's fine."
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Simone bravely walks through the front room. Crank is barely two steps behind her. She wanders throughout the house, admiring the cozy decor. Crank is unable to understand Simone's fascination with the drab ancient ooman decorations--many of which are covered in layers of dust and grime.
Stopping to admire a large clock, Simone reaches out a hand and rubs dirt from the clock's face. The hands on the clock read 2:21. Simone laughs and glances out of the nearest window.
"I think it's a bit later than that," Simone chuckles. "Too bad, I don't have a watch. Or a phone. I lost my phone back home...At the bus station. Or rather, I didn't lose it. I threw it against a wall. My ex kept blowing up my phone. Calling me over and over. Sending me text messages about how I'm such a loser and a horrible mother. I was afraid I'd get thrown off the bus if it kept ringing like that. So, I went into the ladies room and killed the freaking thing. Would have flushed it down the toilet, if I didn't think it'd clog up the drain. Don't want that headache. Or the bill. Ha. I guess, I understand how you feel, Crank. I mean, only a little. Sometimes, it feels good to be destructive. In small doses."
Simone turns away from the clock and heads for a wooden staircase, leading to the second floor. Crank is still dumbfounded by Simone's admission about having killed something. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, Simone offers Crank her hand. She chuckles when Crank remains rooted where he is. Regarding her with obvious amusement.
"Come on," she says teasingly. "I won't bite. I was only kidding."
Crank moves with calculated strides to where Simone stands at the foot of the steps. However, he does not take her hand. Instead, he places a hand under Simone's chin and gazes down into her eyes. Eyes like pools of jofdohr elixir. He lowers his hand only to remove his gloves. Holding Simone's face once again, Crank presses his disguised lips to her mouth.
Simone remains perfectly still, not questioning his motives or his mood. Crank's desire grows and he draws her in closer. What energy he would have dedicated to the hunt, he now channels into his passion. Simone finally recognizes that this is not a fleeting impulse. She throws her arms around Crank's neck.
Crank's eyes open and he peers at Simone. They are so close that he can only see her nose and part of her face. Simone's eyes are shut, in usual fashion, and there is perspiration on her skin. Crank's olfactory senses kick in and he draws in her scent. She is pleased.
Politely withdrawing from their kiss. Crank glances up the stairs, and then back over his shoulder. The wood of the staircase appears old, and he does not wish to test fate. He chooses the downstairs. Gathering Simone up into his arms, Crank heads for someplace more comfortable.
-
-
Sometime later, Simone and Crank are lying atop an assortment of blankets scavenged from a linen closet. Crank stares up at the ceiling, a contented expression on his face. Simone grins and turns on her side, draping an arm across Crank's chest.
"Feeling better?" Simone whispers, resting her chin on Crank's shoulder.
"Yes," Crank replies. Truly meaning it.
Crank kisses the top of Simone's head; nearest her hairline. Simone's body trembles and Crank manages a tiny smile. Once again, he has made her happy.
"It is strange...How much you remind me of my mother," Crank says wistfully. "She is always concerned with my feelings. Always wanting me to be happy. She wants to know at all times...What I am thinking or feeling."
Simone's eyes widen and she props herself up on an elbow. Crank reaches up a hand to caress her cheek, believing he has upset her. However, a smile slowly creeps onto Simone's face.
"You haven't told me very much about your family," Simone says. "What are they like? Do you have many brothers and sisters?"
"I do not have as many brothers and sisters as I once did," Crank explains in a soft voice. "Some have been killed in hunts with the Keinde Amedha...The black serpents. Others, in hunts with their hybrid cousins...Beasts borne of the serpents' blood. Still others, of my family, have joined with various clans in marriage or for diplomatic reasons. I have only three siblings which are close to my heart. Klinatoa, my eldest brother, is much larger than I am. He wears many exotic weapons, including an implement belt full of small incendiary devices, and carries a combistick of enormous size. He has slaughtered many black serpents with this combistick. It is practically legendary. There are jewels inlaid across the entire center. Jewels collected from worlds he has helped to overthrow. Lenaa, my youngest brother, is wiry and thin. My family believes he is more suited to be a ghost hunter than those of the regular caste. He is able to flit in and out of anywhere with relative ease. Even other yautja fear him. Natalis, my sister, is still very young. She has many years to go before she is ready for a hunt. In the meantime, we practice together..."
Crank's voice trails off and the excitement drains from his features. The world he speaks of will never be as it once was.
"Oh, Crank," Simone whispers. "I shouldn't have asked. I've upset you again."
Crank's smile returns and he draws Simone close, kissing her forehead.
"My heart will always be saddened by what I have lost," Crank says, his smile unwavering. "But, I will also remember what I have gained. That is what life is about. Never taking anything for granted."
Simone snuggles tighter into Crank's embrace, but refrains from saying anything more. Crank kisses her bare shoulder and then lies back. Before long, they are both asleep.