Maria shifted to a better and more comfortable position, although she didn’t hurry. She’d never really done this sort of thing before. Cared for someone in the physical sense of the word. Her life on Earth and later Klaus and eventually one starship after another didn’t offer much opportunity; they had technological tools, modern means to do nearly anything. Caring, for a rebel leader like her, meant shooting down the enemy, or letting herself be captured so her allies could escape.

But something this simple, this intimate... it was new to her.

She rested both her hands on his wings, slowly, carefully, half-listening to his narrative about Tuaca and chocolate orchards. She felt his tension, and only when it eased did she start to move her fingers towards one of the misshapen feathers.