By Cigarette Light

Vas blinked as a kind nun took a seat with him at his little corner of the cargo bay that passed as his haven. “Oh … uh … no not really.” Vas admitted not that he was hurt by this or even bothered. It was a bit of unpleasantness he didn’t people would want to hear after all.

“But really I’m fine. Nothing some sleep and rest can’t fix. Doc gave me a clean bill of health and everything.” He as if he had gotten a gold star next to his name for it. Vas seemed unfazed by it all in spite of his appearance. He was still bruised and lacerated, his nose was straightened and patched but had Lyen now known the full story she could have assumed he had won a prize fight or something.

He was at ease, relaxed in his worn chair. Vas wasn’t a jittery mess or even had that haunted look some might get. Vas smiled, winced touching the sore spot on his nose. “It’s really kind of you thought but there ain’t much to talk about.” He said completely sincere. There was, of course, that small nagging concern of scaring the bijous out of the nun with tales of horror.

Not to assume that she may or may not have been through things but he doubted, slavery, mercenary, wet work and torture would be among them. He was keen enough to know many folk would be off-put not just by the description but the delivery as well.
He lit up another black cigarette but noted her eyed the clove stick. “Did you want one?” He offered the nun. Vas would be the last guy to deny a kindly nun of a harmless vice.

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