“Seriously, sixty-seven?” Hours later, Jane still couldn’t believe how old Karryl was. “I wouldn’t have said more than what… thirty-five, at the most.”
The big Latharian warrior sat in the opposite recliner at the front of the cockpit, his gaze focused on the holographic screens in front of him. She had to admit, seeing him stretched out like that, with his attention elsewhere was more than handy. She could look her fill without him noticing.
“Yes, sixty-seven. Do human women ever stop talking?” he grumbled, throwing a scowl her way, which she ignored.
“Be thankful I’m not Kenna. That woman can talk the hind legs off a donkey. Creatures like your kervasi, but smaller, and more beasts of burden rather than to ride elegantly.”
He did look at her that time, his expression quizzical. “Thei
