I awaken in a complete daze, unsure of my surroundings, and briefly wonder if the human had seduced me with lard-soaked fries and false declarations of kindness before tying me up and taking me prisoner in the middle of the night.

No, that would have been far too easy, and Alan had more than enough chances the day before to kidnap me and bring me to his superiors for vicious torture and interrogation. It did not make sense for him to wait until I appeared at his door to make such a drastic move.

Once my pulse calms, I open my eyes slowly and perceive, for the first time, Alan's place of rest. I had been too exhausted last night to notice much other than the bed, and he hadn't had any lights on to see the rest of the room before I fell asleep.

It was a simple place, with white walls and a neutral color scheme in shades of black and grey. There was also furniture colored black, with various clothes protruding from a dresser over by the door. Everything about it was so very human; the things Alan clearly loved were arranged high on shelves for protection. The musty, unwashed clothing mounds in one corner spoke of exhaustion and relenting to unabashed filth.

I hear a door open and snap my eyes closed as soon as Alan steps into the room, and I feel him standing there for a brief instant as if he were assessing whether or not I was asleep. 

"Luna?" He asks me, "You awake?" 

Stars above, his voice was so pleasantly gruff with the remnants of slumber, and when I do risk a peek at him, it takes everything within me to keep myself from glowing a brilliant shade of fuchsia at the sight of Alan in nothing but a white towel around his waist. 

I would not forget the sight of his very attractive nipples staring right at me. Or the way his body looked as if it had been carved out of a burning meteor and molded into a man-shaped object capable of bending my body into positions that would surely snap me in half. Unrestricted, the veil of moisture flows from both my mouth and loins.

I needed to keep strong, or this earthling would undoubtedly kill me.

"I know it's early, but I made us cinnamon rolls and coffee," Alan continues, sounding a bit hopeful that I was either still alive after consuming In-N-Out so late last night or awake enough to hear him speak. "I'm about to get dressed if you want to shower and have breakfast before we go to work together."

I finally slide my blanket down and peek out at him at the mention of breakfast.

The rest of the morning was very strange, but welcome. I had always enjoyed having some type of routine to follow or a job to do, and now that Alan wanted me to go with him to work, I was eager to see what he did when he wasn't in his apartment or asleep.

I use Alan's bathroom to wash myself thoroughly and comb the snarls out of my long hair before braiding it to keep the burned and blackened parts from being visible. Alan had been kind enough to let me borrow more clothing—a large grey jacket and some dark pants that I tie around my waist—and I put those on before joining him in the kitchen for breakfast.

"What do you mean he quit because of the giant spaceship crashing into our roof?" Alan's shouting into a device pressed to his ear, "He can't just quit without giving us some kind of warning first! He's literally the guy who frosts and decorates all our cakes, Kiki!" 

I look around his narrow kitchen, which is cluttered with assorted machines and bottles of spices, and find a tiny table to sit at in the corner, my eyes wide as I watch Alan lose it.

"Oh my God, we're dead." Alan sighs deeply, one hand pressed against his forehead. "This is so bad. I brought home that one cake last night to try to frost it, but I'm really shit at frosting stuff."

My stomach grumbles in annoyance as Alan continues to argue on the phone, so I reach for the tray of what I assume he called cinnamon rolls sitting in the middle of the table. Unfortunately, Alan had been so busy that he had forgotten to apply a container of sticky white coating to the top of them, and they looked rather bland in appearance.

"I'm not going to hire Dave again!" Alan exclaims, "Especially not after I caught him licking the spatulas in between frosting all those fucking cakes. I felt nauseous for, like, two weeks. I couldn't even look at a red velvet cake without running to the bathroom."

I find the weapon Alan had been about to use to frost his rolls and examine the sharp edge, poking my finger against it a little. In my experience, knives had been the only weapon I had been good at using, and I was rather relentless on the battlefield when given one. So I frost Alan's rolls with quick efficiency while his back is turned.

"Anyway," Alan rolls his eyes, "I'm heading over there right now. I have someone I want you to meet...No, dude. Seriously. He's not my boyfriend. I told you I'm going to be single for--"

"Alan?" I ask him, the tray of cinnamon rolls in my hands.

Alan turns around, his device still pressed to his ear. Stunned, he stares down at a perfectly frosted tray of pastries complete with green alien-themed sprinkles and adorable pink hearts.

"I-I'm gonna call you back, Kiki." Alan mumbles into his device, "I think I found the answer to our little problem."