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— Answer me, — the boss repeated, starting to scan every corner of the room. — If you’re from patrol, are you alone? Or is your partner here? How many of you are there?
Rico was still holding her in front of his face, smiling stupidly. His face was already unbelievably huge because of his excess weight, but from this angle, with her squeezed into his sweaty palm, it looked like the very embodiment of some insanely massive mountain troll from Scandinavian fairy tales.
Flora’s ears rang, as if a grenade had gone off nearby, even though nothing like that had happened. Her tiny eyes slammed shut, and she squeezed them tight, as if that could help calm the panic. Her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was about to burst out of the tight white top. Heat rolled over her again in a wave—that same familiar and hated one—starting somewhere in her breasts and spreading through her entire body, making her skin burn and tingle. Her wings, pressed to her back, trembled, trying to unfold, and a bright green light flared in them, seeping through Rico’s fingers.
— Hey, what’s wrong with her? — Rico muttered, loosening his fist slightly out of curiosity. His hot breath washed over Flora again, and at that moment she felt her scent—the same sickly sweet one, with strong notes of chamomile and freshly cut meadow grass—grow several times stronger, filling all the space around his palm. It burst outward like a dense cloud and hit Rico straight in the face.
The fat man froze. His nostrils flared, he took a deep breath—and his eyes went glassy. The smile that had just been curious and a little mean slowly melted away, replaced by an expression of complete, unconditional awe.
— Oh… my God… — he breathed out softly, almost reverently. His fingers opened completely, carefully, as if he were holding the most fragile treasure in the world. — I’m sorry… I’m sorry, my precious! Are you… are you okay?
Flora didn’t immediately realize she was no longer being held.
The pressure vanished so suddenly that her body jerked from inertia, and she almost tumbled in the air. Her wings, finally freed, snapped open convulsively, unevenly, blindingly. At once the green light flared brighter than before, cutting into her eyes, and only Rico’s other hand, placed just in time under her back, kept her from falling.
She was breathing hard. As hard as you can even “breathe hard” with tiny lungs. Her breasts were still heaving under the white top, the fabric sticking to her skin, and that made her feel ashamed, angry, and… scared.
— You… you… what the hell?!
she shouted, lifting her gaze to Rico’s huge, sweaty, round face. He was looking at her with some unexpected warmth and… remorse? Flora’s blue eyes widened. She wanted to hit him with her tiny fist, blind him with a flash of light, fly away as far as possible—but instead the words got stuck in her throat. Because something inside flipped over.
Rico was big. Very big. But now he was looking at her not like moments ago, but as if she were the only light in his life.
“Why the fuck am I not flying away?!” flashed briefly through her mind, but at that moment the boss’s voice sounded behind her:
— Rico! What the fuck?! Have you lost your mind?!