Eavesdown Docks were hot as a furnace, warmer by far than what he had been used to, but Tico suspected that the heat on his face had nothing to do with the temperature or the proximity of the sun. ‘Gallant’ she had called him. And what had he done? Stampeded over her. He wondered fleetingly if changing one’s name to ‘Smooth’ would’ve been legal on Persephone – most likely yes. Here, it seemed, everything was allowed if you were rich or powerful enough.
“Tico -” He couldn’t refuse the hand she had offered, so deep-rooted were Tia Rosario’s lessons on manners, but he held it as briefly as he could, then let go and retreated a step without even once meeting her eyes. He wrapped his arms around himself, like a shield. “Tico Moreno. That’s what they call me. Tico. You –” His voice broke and he fell silent again, thoughts drifting towards escape. Somehow, however, forming a coherent plan seemed impossible. Running away didn't quite cut it.