Over the past few days, I've learned a few things about her.
Abigail is the type to clearly distinguish between enemies and allies.
She offers compassionate embraces to her allies and merciless blows to her enemies.
The harsh words and actions she occasionally displays are the face she shows to her foes.
Apparently, I'm in her "ally" category.
She's too trusting. Believing Butcher like that.
She usually presents a gentle demeanor, but once she's set on something, she shows a sharp, elite side. She can switch gears like that.
It's the same during sex. Normally, she acts like a refined lady, but once she flips the switch, she becomes wilder than any prostitute.
I guess that's how you survive in the elite world—by adapting to different roles.
And Abigail is exceptional. Among the people I've seen, she's head and shoulders above the rest. Watching her from the sidelines is almost terrifying. No wonder she was ostracized in the organization.
—A fearsome woman. I can't let my guard down. She's a brilliant spy. Her job is to deceive and steal. If I fully trust her, she'll drain me to the core.
Though, if it's my prized rod she's draining, I wouldn't mind.
Oh no… my thoughts are turning into dirty old man mode…
Come to think of it, there was someone like that back then—someone who'd crack those kind of jokes and laugh at my reactions. Could this be their influence…?
"What's wrong, Gévaudan?"
N-Nothing at all.
Startled, I turned around to see Abigail opening her eyes, still buried in the leaves.
She'd been sleeping in the makeshift bed I'd learned from Fox.
Well, it's just a pile of dry leaves, but still.
It's what you use to sleep in the wilderness. Luckily, it's early autumn. The leaves are all sun-dried, so there are hardly any bugs. With its cushioning, insulation, and breathability, combined with a blanket, it's a decent bed in a survival situation.
When I showed her how to make it, Abigail murmured, "You're so resourceful…" in awe. I don't think this would give me away, but her every word and action feels probing, making me flinch. Am I being too paranoid…?
"—Mmm… mm-hmm! …Let's have breakfast!"
Saying that, Abigail crawled out of the pile of leaves.
She said it enthusiastically, but I'm the one making it.
While she got ready, I started a fire and grilled some meat.
Breakfast is meat.
Actually, it's always meat. It's autumn, so there are no mountain vegetables. Mushrooms are risky—even with my scout-trained eyes, I've misidentified them before. Plus, mushrooms are too low in calories to fill you up.
Wild berries are surprisingly rarely edible without preparation. They're too bitter. You'd need to soak them for months to remove the tannins.
So, it's only meat.
Luckily, we had various seasonings. Among the supplies we took were salt, pepper, spices, dried herbs, and curry powder, so Abigail hasn't gotten tired of the meals yet.
Last night, it was bone-in meat stewed in curry. Even the cartilage was delicious. Before that, I made a fake pesto sauce with dried basil. Before that, smoked meat. And before that, hand-chopped minced meat hamburgers with plenty of nutmeg.
To keep Abigail's mind sharp, I've been cooking wholeheartedly as her personal chef.
But this morning, it's just pepper-flavored meat.
I saw Abigail's eyebrows furrow for a moment at the surprisingly simple dish, after being treated to my creative cooking.
She looks a little disappointed. Heh.
But then, her eyes lit up, and she dug into the simple meat with gusto.
"Mmm… Gee, this meat is so tender and delicious. It's strange… why?"
Hehe… it's dry-aged meat, seasoned with salt and left in the autumn breeze for a few days. The umami is concentrated. Just pepper makes it a feast. The salt concentration is the key.
I smirked inwardly, rolled up my sleeves, and flexed my biceps—a gesture to say, "It's because I'm good."
Abigail burst out laughing at the sight.
"Hehe… ahahaha! You're quite the butcher!"
I've done the research and thought things through. The basic plan is what Abigail outlined the other day. Now, we're discussing how to proceed. Today is our last day at the base. Tomorrow, we have to return to that alien facility.
"Hey, Gee, what's this area like?"
That's a tough question. What do you mean, "what's it like"? Should I draw a map?
When I stayed silent, Abigail continued.
"—If you don't mind, I'd love a tour! We just need to talk things over, so we can do it while walking, right?"
First talking, now walking…
I looked down and made a small noise in my throat—a sign that I'm not too keen.
Since living with Abigail, I've realized my emotional expressions are limited, so I've come up with various signs.
Besides throat noises, I open my mouth, tilt my head, or snap my fingers. I've become much more expressive, though my face is still creepy.
We've reached a point where we don't need words—Abigail talks, and I respond with gestures.
"It's fine. There's a river nearby, right? I want to take a dip… Gee, you know… because of that…"
Abigail said shyly, looking down.
She's not good with dirty talk.
Yet, she's a sexual powerhouse who can make me fall in an instant. This gap is adorable.
"It smells nice, and my skin feels smooth, so I don't hate it, but sometimes I want to wash off properly… Is that okay?"
…Smells nice? Did she just say it smells nice? Stop lying. To me, it just smells like squid.
*What does it smell like?*
I decided to press her.
"Hmm, let's see… The top note is woody, like patchouli, with hints of vanilla and muguet. I also get a bit of lily. Over time, the base notes of citrus and amber come through."
Such a sophisticated scent…
I was stunned, mouth agape—a sign of my surprise.
Seeing this, Abigail covered her mouth and laughed, then leaned in to whisper in my ear.
"Hehe—it tastes like cola, too. It tingles your throat at first, but it grows on you."
Oh, is that so? No wonder she drinks it so eagerly…
"So, I don't mind it. But after bathing in cola, don't you want to wash off afterward?"
I completely agree.
And you don't have to convince me that hard. It's fine to wash up. I won't stop you. In fact, sorry I didn't notice sooner.
*Let's go after we finish eating.*
After our meal, I took Abigail to the river.
The stream wasn't far. You could hear the water from deep in the forest. After a short walk, the river came into view—wide and deep.
"Ahhhh! Waterrrrr!"
Abigail stripped in front of me and waded into the river. She's not shy around me anymore. Of course not. But it's a little lonely.
"—It's so cold!"
She sank into the water, mouth wide open.
Splashing her hands, she said,
"Gee, come on!"
Huh, me too…?
"Come on!" Abigail insisted, her energy high. Reluctantly, I took off my apron and stepped into the water.
"—It's warm."
Abigail hugged me, resting her face on my chest. I was her human hot water bottle.
"Mmm… something even warmer appeared…"
Well, of course. You're hugging me naked.
"But… later. It defeats the purpose of bathing."
We might as well get dirty now, so we don't get dirty later.
I love outdoor sex. You do too, Abigail. I know. You're an outdoor type. You're clearly more into it outside. We're compatible.
But I get why you like outdoor sex.
It's not that you like having sex outside—it's that you enjoy moaning loudly while talking. In a prison or near aliens, it's better not to speak human words.
Loudly, you say, "I'm going to die, Gee. Please, stop." You dig your nails into my back, hug me tight, and nibble on my shoulders. You beg for mercy with your words, but your body begs for pleasure. There are few women as satisfying to hold as you.
Anyway, just as I was about to suggest riverside sex, a large shadow emerged from the forest.
It was a huge bear—probably a grizzly.
I could feel Abigail tense up in my arms. Grizzlies are bigger than I thought. It must have come for water.
It'll probably leave if we ignore it. Just as I reached for Abigail's hips, the bear let out a loud, threatening roar.
What's going on? Why is it so agitated?
…Oh, it's pre-hibernation.
I had no choice but to get out of the river with Abigail.
I stood in front of the approaching bear.
I'm tall—about the same height as a standing grizzly. With my weight included, I'm even bigger.
The bear, surprised to see such a large creature emerge from the water, hesitated for a moment before baring its teeth and growling at me.
"Uh, uh… what do we do…?"
Abigail fidgeted behind me.
Good question…
Casually, I turned toward the river and flicked out my tongue.
"Huh? Huh? Huh…?"
With chameleon-like speed, my tongue pierced the water's surface and pulled out a river fish.
I held it in my mouth for a moment, then, ignoring Abigail's shock, tossed it lightly at the bear's face.
The bear, hit by the fish on its nose, took a few steps back.
After barking at me two or three times, it picked up the fallen fish and quietly retreated into the forest.
We silently watched the bear's retreating figure.
Come on, Abigail. You'll catch a cold. Let's finish bathing and head back.
I patted her shoulder, picked her up, and returned to the river, becoming her hot water bottle again.
My reward for being a hot water bottle was a slap on the hand. Sorry, river creatures.