Assimilation (Concordia Series Book 1) by Lydia Chelsea Page A

turns at the sound of the dressing room door closing. “Ready?”
    “Yes.”
    “Will you be needing lingerie?” Mina asks as she carries my choices to the back of the store.
    Ritter goes back to staring out the window while I choose some underwear and a couple bras.  I’m quick about it and a little anxious as I realize I don’t know what any of it costs or how money actually works here.  I make a mental note to ask Ritter later.
    Mina gathers the last of my purchases and leads me back to the payment desk.  Ritter, having joined us, places his arm on a swing out panel, resting it there until a pinging noise issues from the panel.
    “Wait just a second,” she says, swiping the screen of her logger.  “I just want to give Davinney my codes.” She looks up at me.  “Your logger?”
    Ritter holds up his own.  “Use mine for now,” he says.  Mina nods and each waves their logger in front of the other’s. Ritter glances at his screen.  “Got them,” he says.
    “Good to meet you, Davinney.”
    I take the bag she holds out to me. It says Flash on it in large, slash-like letters.
    Once we’re on the street, Ritter offers me his first smile since we arrived at the store.
    “You made a friend,” he says, glancing at his logger again.  “Want to meet some of mine?”
    “Sure.” 
    How can I refuse? He’s putting a roof over my head, feeding me, and buying me clothes.  I’ve got little to offer him in return, but I can offer him my willingness to assimilate…even if it is the last thing I want to do.
    The service unwind (bar and grill) is a few blocks down in the same district. Ritter must have given this outing some real thought.
    The place is called Lennin’s Unholy Unwind. Just inside the meld, we have to provide our breath chemistry. When I give Ritter an exasperated look, he says,
    “If you have a propensity for addiction, you won’t be able to order anything with alcohol in it.”  He clamps his mouth shut as someone approaches.
    I wonder why he’s bothering to introduce me to anyone when I’m bound to mess something up and embarrass him. Even so, Ritter introduces me to his friends, Melayne Serda and her husband, Scuva, referring to me as a friend from out of town.
    Melayne and Scuva go still and glance at Ritter. Melayne’s hand curls around Scuva’s tightly and the four of us stare awkwardly across the table at one another before Scuva breaks the spell, offering me a stiff smile that makes the back of my neck prickle.
    Melayne follows his lead. Looking at my outfit, she asks, “You’re a caretaker?  Are you a friend of Strega’s?” I blink at her accent, which sounds vaguely British but is mixed with something else I can’t identify.
    Ritter looks caught but recovers smoothly. “We met Strega this morning for breakfast and there was a little accident with our drinks.”
    She laughs sympathetically.  “Your doing, I assume?”
    Ritter dips his head and lifts his hands.  “You know me,” he chuckles.
    Melayne’s blue eyes twinkle as she peers over the edge of the table.  “I see you’ve used Ritter’s clumsiness as an excuse to visit one of my favorite shops. Well done.” This, too, strikes me as British. I wonder whether she’s also from Attero. Then I inwardly roll my eyes at myself. There are probably an infinite number of open worlds full of people with accents of all kinds.
    I smile and set the bag on the floor. I don’t tell her any differently.
    Ritter and Scuva get into a conversation about an upcoming festival.  I try to follow, but some of what they say is obviously Concordian jargon and I quickly lose the meaning. The strange, loaded looks continue, though, reminding me of the ones passed between Ritter and Strega in holding. I want to ask Ritter why they’re looking at me this way, but I can’t.
    I’m relieved when Ritter shows me his logger and asks,
    “Anything look interesting?”
    It is my ScanX profile, adjusted for the menu in this service