She was sated, and her mind had wandered elsewhere, away from my face and hands and body, and I was left to my own mind again. “I am so sorry,” I said. It came out a whisper.

“For what?”

“I am so very sorry.”

“What’s there to be sorry for?” she asked.

I sat up. I blushed at the sight of my own naked body. “Where’s Sorcha?”

“Who’s Sorcha?”

“He was here.”

“Oh, the other tinker?”

I looked at her. “What?”

“The tink who was here with you? Red hair?”

“Don’t call us that.”

She sat up and pulled her hair over her shoulder. “That’s what you are, though, right?”

“No, I’m Semadran. Don’t call me that. And he’s from the City. Is he still here?”

“I don’t know. I think he left.” She bit her lip and leaned forward. “That was something else. Let’s go again.”

“You should go,” I said. I stood up and found my pants on the other side of the room.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“It was so good, though!”

I looked at her over my shoulder. Her wants reached out to me, poured into me, threatened to pull me over. “You called me a tinker. Please, go,” I said. I kept my eyes pinned to the floor and went into the bedroom. I leaned against the door, barricading it, hiding from her. A few minutes later, I heard the front door creak open and slam shut.

Sorcha came home an hour or two later. He eased the door open slowly, silently, and peeked through. “Ah, you’re done,” he said. He came in and dropped his violin case on the couch. He shot me a grin. “You know, I never made you for the exhibitionist type.”

I crumpled into a ball. I hugged my knees to my chest and hid my face in my arms. Sorcha was next to me in a second. “Hey,” he said. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“I hate this.”

“Hate what?”

“Hate being a shaper. I hate this.”

“Oh.” He stroked my hair. “I just thought, you know, it’s been over a year…I just thought you’d broken out of your shell.”

“I can’t control this. Who could control this? Why am I like this?”

“Hey, hey.” He coaxed me out. He held me by the shoulders. “Ain’t nothing wrong with what you are. It’s not easy being anyone, right? You’ll be all right. You will. I’ll help. If I can, I’ll help. Can I help?”

“Next time, stay,” I said. “And pull me off. I can’t do that again. I woke up from it so hollow.”

“Yeah, all right,” he said. “Sure, I can do that.”

* * *