Steelhands - Jaida Jones [106]
The plan still needed a little fine-tuning, but putting it off would at least give me some more time to prepare.
“So I didn’t have to do anything at all,” Adamo said.
“Except for grunt a reply now and then,” I agreed.
“But you’ve decided what you’re gonna do for a problem you didn’t even tell me about?” he asked.
“Righto,” I said, getting out of my chair. I probably should’ve given him a curtsy or something, but he seemed like the kind of man who would’ve preferred a salute. I fixed the uneven buttons on my coat instead. “That’s the one. You’ve been a real help.”
“Are you trying to be difficult?” Adamo asked. “I mean, this can’t all be by accident. Now you’ve gone and made me curious—so if you were looking to make me feel like a liar, consider your plan successful.”
“When I was little, Da’s champion racing horse kicked me in the head,” I told him, allowing my eyes to cross, just for further effect. “And me? I’ve been a little funny ever since.”
“That explains everything,” Adamo said, but I caught him looking at my face like he wasn’t quite sure if I’d been joking or not. He got up after me, shouldering into a coat that looked like it’d been made from at least forty cows all dead and stitched together. I didn’t ask if he meant to walk me back to my dorms, just did up the collar of my coat and slowly made my way out of his office.
I was pretty relieved when he followed me anyway, turning out the lamp and locking the door behind us. Some dumb joke about me getting kicked in the head was no proper way to say good-bye, even by my standards. Besides, it’d be nice to have the company.
The walk downstairs through Cathery was mostly quiet at that hour, all the classrooms locked up and darkened; even the last of the brown-nosers and stragglers had already gone home. When we passed by the door with that professor and his student I thought about telling Adamo what I’d seen, but something made me stop, and it wasn’t because of the delicacy of the situation, either. He just didn’t seem like the kind of man who’d enjoy random gossip. I’d have to save that tidbit for Toverre, who’d probably eat it up.
At least the hallway wasn’t completely silent, since Adamo kept clearing his throat like he had something to say, but couldn’t quite get around to saying it.
“You want a lozenge?” I asked finally, once we got to the bottom of the steps.
“No, thanks,” Adamo said.
“ ’Cause it’s possible you might have some kind of cold,” I added. “Hot bath with steam in the room’ll fix it pretty quick.”
“Or a lozenge,” Adamo said.
“I don’t even have one, anyway,” I replied. “I just thought you might know it sounded like you need one.”
It was colder than an old stallion’s lonely balls outside, and it would’ve been dark as pitch if it weren’t for the lanterns lining the ’Versity Stretch. I wished I’d thought to bring my gloves, or maybe even a hat; at least I could comfort myself that it wasn’t a very long walk back to the dorms.
There was even a little kiosk set up along the walkway, selling hot drinks and stale pastries and the like. I couldn’t even imagine how frozen the poor bastard inside must’ve been, with his breath puffing out in front of him like he was having a smoke.
“Hot drink’ll help your throat, too,” I suggested.
“You wouldn’t know this, ’cause you’re still young,” Adamo told me, “but when you get to a certain age and you have a cup of coffee after sundown, you don’t sleep a lick all night.”
“What about hot chocolate?” I asked.
Adamo considered it, face looking craggy with all the nighttime shadows. Then he strode away from me. “Two hot chocolates,” he said when he returned, handing me a steaming cup.
“Can’t accept that,” I said, poking around in my own pockets for some of my allowance.
“Why not?” he asked. “It’s already done.”
“Well,” I replied, trying to remember how Toverre had phrased it, “because it’s just not proper for a young girl to let a man buy her anything, unless it’s with intentions