It moves more slowly than clouds traversing the sky, but for a plant, it’s almost alarmingly rapid. Personally I find the thing creepy, but I keep my smile plastered on as the vine tugs at my finger.

Shey leans forward, both hands clasped to her chest now, eyes locked on the tiny monstrosity. I can practically see the credits sliding into my account already. And luckily for me, Shey hasn’t got a lick of savvy about the actual going rate. I have no shame in charging her as much as I think she’s willing to pay. She’s not going hungry anytime soon, and I have no qualms about ensuring that I never will again.

“What’s it called?” Shey asks. She shifts closer, leaning farther over the table.

“The Devans called it a…” I pause, realizing strangle-vine isn’t a particularly appealing name. “Creep-crawler, I think.”

She’s leaning so close now that I can smell mint on her breath and have to make an effort not to stare down her dress. A considerable effort, given that I’ve spent the last several days crammed into a spaceship with no company other than my family. She glances up at me, quirking one eyebrow in a way that lets me know I’ve been caught in the act, and I avert my eyes. I bite the inside of my cheek and focus on the vine, which is now brushing its leaves against my wrist. I need to keep my mind on the job.

“May I?” she asks, holding out one hand. A pale green clock tattoo glows just above her glove, reminding me I’m on a deadline, but I can never bring myself to rush with Shey.

“Sure.” I pull free from the vine just as Shey reaches forward to take it, and our fingers brush. Even through my rough brown gloves and the white silk covering her own skin, the gesture feels strangely intimate—especially for Gaia, where hands touch so rarely. Shey’s cheeks flare pink, but she refocuses on the plant as I pull back. She strokes a leaf with one finger and lets out a quiet laugh.

“It tickles,” she says, and slowly turns her hand over, watching how the vine clings to her. “Reactive to heat, I wonder?” After a few more moments of watching the plant, she glances up at me through her long eyelashes. “How much?”

I swallow and turn my eyes up to the ceiling so I can think clearly.