"Foster, Alan Dean - Flinx - Bloodhype" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

the appropriate places.

The only thing that made him a little uncomfortable was that she appeared
to stand a good five centimeters taller than he. He left the counter and
moved to intercept her as she headed for the public transport park.

Subtlety was not Kingsley's forte. He grinned his best grin, every bicuspid
and molar perfect (he had guarantees for that, too), and said, "Hello,
stranger!"

The gaze she offered in return was faintly amused, otherwise noncommittal.

"Hello yourself, native." The voice was a husky soprano, with just a trace
of terran accent.

Better and better! Everyone knew about terran girls, didn't they?

"Russell Kingsley, but you can call me Russ. Can I give you a lift? My
rates are reasonable."

"Kitten Kai?sung. Sure. Are you passing anywhere near the ..." she paused,
"the Green Island Hostelry?"

"Green Island." (Not filthy rich, but well?off?not that it mattered much.)
"I am now. Got any luggage?"

"It's being delivered."

"Well, then. Come along!" He tried to put an arm across her shoulders. She
shrugged it off.

Uppity bitch, he thought. He'd change that quickly enough, as soon as he
got her back to the Tower.

His hoveraft was a Phaeton Mark IV, the latest. He was just a bit put off
when she didn't acknowledge the gleaming hunk of machinery. Not even a
little oooh! or mad Let her play it cool, then. He'd change that, too.

As soon as he was sure all doors were secure, he grinned the powerful
engine and blasted away from the station, scattering grit and sand over
several pedestrians.

The cloud cover was still fairly heavy, the air typically warm and damp.
Now and then a light mist would not so much fall as simply appear in the
air. Wood was utilized to a great extent on Repler, not only because the
planet was blessed with tremendous softwood jungles, but because wood had a
natural advantage over many metals. It wouldn't rust.

"You plan to be with us long?"