He said, "Well, they want me to get them a, uh—well, a high dragon bump." He pronounced the words carefully.
"So why dontcha?" the girl asked.
Wayne's voice rose. "I don't even know what it is. I told them and they don't believe me. Now you're here! I suppose if I can't be reduced—seduced—into getting them one, it will wind up with torch hair. Believe me, I never heard of a high dragon bump."
"Now, don't get panicky!" the girl pleaded. "After all, I'm scared too."
"I am not scared!" Wayne replied indignantly. But he realized that he was.
So far, in the hour or so he'd been a captive of the Cirissins, he'd managed to keep his fright pretty well subdued. He'd understood almost at once what had happened, and his first reaction had not been terror or even any great degree of surprise.
He was a scientist and he had a scientist's curiosity.
And at first the Cirissins—or the one that had done all the talking—had been cooperative in answering his questions. But then, when he wasn't able to comprehend what they meant by high dragon bump, they'd started getting impatient.
"What's your name?" he asked the girl. She was making gentle swimming motions with her hands and feet, moving gradually closer to him.
"Sheilah," she said. "Sheilah Ralue. I'm a model. I pose for pitchers. You know—for sexy magazines and calendars and stuff like that."