"Where're my clothes?"
The kid commenced noises of disapproval.
"Damnation! I'm not going anywhere. I just want to look over that pant's
leg."
Came the dawn.
"What'd you say Moya was doing?"
"Oh, I expect he's busy up forward."
The trouble was that he looked me straight in the eye. It takes practice
to lie convincingly. And the Space Academy doesn't list the Art of
Prevarication among its curricula.
"That misbegotten little son of an Aztec! He went back down, didn't he?"