Learning to Dance

“Sorry to disappoint you,” said Pedro, crossing his
arms and leaning against her door.
Taz shook her head. “It’s just that I haven’t seen him all
evening, and he’s not in his quarters – I just figured tonight,
you know, before the battle...”
She trailed off. Pedro simply looked at her. “You mean
before we all march off to our heroic deaths?”
“You know it’s hopeless,” she said. “The prelim reports
of the robot forces- the G.L.E.E. doesn’t stand a chance.”
“There’s always a chance,” he said softly. Then, after a
moment, “Do you want me to go?”
Taz considered this. “No,” she said, and stood back to
let him in. “I could use the company.”
“I brought cards,” he offered. “And some Plutonian
whiskey. It’s not tequila, but-”
“I’ve sworn off tequila,” she said, taking the deck of
cards from him.
“Pity,” he said as they hauled her desk across the room.
She took the chair. He settled himself on her bed. “I’ve
always enjoyed your renditions of those perennial
favourites - ‘Fly Me to the Moon,’ ‘Space Cowboys,’” He
paused. “‘Boy Toy.’”
“Cierra la boca, or you’ll never get another,” Taz said,
shuffling the cards. “Want to make things more
interesting?”
“What, with money?” Pedro waved his hand. “Who’s
gonna need it after tomorrow?” He cracked a sly smile.
“I’ve got a better idea.”
“No stripping,” Taz said, tossing his cards at him and
taking a sip of the bright pink liquid he offered. She made a
face at the sweetness of it.
“What, scared you’re gonna lose?”
Taz paused, and looked at him over her own cards. He
raised his eyebrows, challenging her.