For A Serious Woman

She looks satisfied as if she had expected you to give just that answer.

A bluff, you suspect.

”But what do you think will happen here? I am not my sister. And I have a suitor already,” she says. The confident spark in her eyes has not dimmed, but she does acknowledge the absurdity of her last statement by averting her gaze.

You note that she does deserve better. Both because he deserted her and because you are unable to tell him apart from his drab brethren.

She laughs at your observation. A lock of brown hair falls over her face and she, laughing still, blows it away. ”You are not wrong, First Officer, and I am inclined to reward such,” she pauses. ”Interest.” The butt of her graphene pen thumps on the tabletop. Tap. Tap. Tap. ”And what does interest you? Money?”

You urge her to perish the thought. Poor though you may be, you are not a cad. And she does look – not lovely, not exactly, but striking. Enticing, even.

”You misunderstand.” She sets the pen aside and instead flicks one of the calculating orbs back and forth. ”I do consider matrimony a matter of contractual law before all else. An economic endeavour, not unlike any business. And since you are – as I understand it – quite scarp-less, the first thing for me is to ascertain if this relationship can work on a fiscal level.”

For a while, only the clickety-clack of her manipulating the metal ball back and forth can be heard. She is looking away from you, her attention focused on the machine. ”I should not have said that,” she says, finally, still unwilling to meet your eyes. ”I am not suggesting we marry. Not not ever, but...”

You raise an eyebrow.

”I am not one for intimacy,” she says, more to her herself than to you. ”Not on the first date, I mean. And this is not a date. I know that. Just – just take some money. As a loan. As a friend. Not that we are friends. Not that we aren’t friends. I do think we could be – friendly, I mean. More than friendly – I am not a prude. Well, I am not like my – I’ll shut up now.”