“Among other things,” she said, finally glancing over her shoulder. Her eyes were the color of burnt umber, and they held a mischievous glint. “You’re not here to collect my bounty, are you, handsome?”
And somewhere in the lower decks of Veridian Station, a new rumor began. A whispered tale about a replacement panel, hidden in a locked locker, guarded by a man who’d once touched the light and still dreamed of the lavender meadow. her glowing buttflap is a trap
But humans, and human-adjacent beings, are not rational creatures. The glow was too friendly. Too inviting. It whispered promises of comfort, of rest, of a brief vacation from the grinding horror of space-station existence. And one by one, they kept touching it. “Among other things,” she said, finally glancing over