I get up and step behind him. My legs shake a little because wow this is awkward, emotional, and stupid all at once—my specialty.
I kneel down again, right behind his huge back. He instantly stiffens like a scared refrigerator. His head snaps straight ahead, avoiding me like I'm the IRS.
Before he can wiggle away, I wrap my arms around him from behind.
Well—try to wrap. The man is built like a sofa set. My hands barely meet. It's like hugging a warm, confused cupboard.
He freezes.
His antenna does a full panic-wiggle—left, right, tiny disco shake—light going twinkle twinkle like he's buffering for answers.
I take a slow breath and bury my face into his back. My cheek squishes against him. He smells like sleep and sadness and a tiny bit of alien metal.
"Will you please stop saying those things…" I mumble, my voice shaking.
He doesn't move. Not even a blink. Just a stiff, confused statue with sparkly antenna.
