Surprised by the voice behind her, Syra turned and stood. Torgo stood directly in front of her. His face was expressionless, but his eyes looked her over before returning to meet her gaze. “I didn’t mean to startle you, no.” He picked up her headscarf, which she’d taken off while wiping down her glider. “You shouldn’t take this off.” Syra watched him as he held out the headscarf but didn’t bother to take it from him. “Why are you here, Torgo?” “I thought we could talk. I don’t think I’ll be sleeping much tonight.” She noticed then how miserable he looked, and desperately wanted to reach out and touch him. She bit her lip and clasped her hands in front of her. “Of course we can talk, Torgo. We’re friends, aren’t we?” “Yeah, we’re friends,” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. Torgo shook out her cloth then pulled it over her head. His hands stopped at her shoulders and for a moment he left them there, staring at her. She didn’t move a muscle.
