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Now, see, I’m not inattentive, you know. Perhaps I can be a bit distracted sometimes. Not so’s you’d notice, mind – most people are far less observant than I am. It helps when people don’t really pay attention to you – easier to sit and observe, that way. More profitable, too.
But Avon’s something else. When he’s not busy being five miles ahead of you, he notices everything. He doesn’t announce half the things he notices, not unless you ask him, but he saw, for example, that I’d made a mistake with Blake’s haircut long before anybody else did – had a good laugh about that one; he wouldn’t have found it as funny if it’d been his hair. He also hears it when something’s wrong with the computers. Technical faults, you know. Says the hum of the electricity changes.
Now me – I can hear it in the locks, if I focus, but Avon notices all the time. If he were less clumsy and as clever with people, I’d get worried.
But it’s still disconcerting to turn around in the shower and find him standing there, sniffing the air.
“Avon!” I cried, dropping my fresh bottle of shampoo. “Took years off my life, you did!”
He ignored me, frowning.
“What’s wrong?”
He gestured vaguely. “What’s that smell?”
“Can’t be me. I’m showering!”
His eyes snapped to me. “Did you change something?”
“Change! Avon, I’m naked and dripping. I’ll get cold! What do you want?”
He reached past me to switch the shower back on, apparently oblivious to the fact that the water instantly drenched his sleeve.
“It’s not the water, at least,” he said, turning it off again.
“Avon, what’s going on?”
“You don’t smell it, of course.”
“Smell what?”
He shook his head slightly. We must have been a sight – me stark naked and drenched, he fully dressed with his sleeve soaked and that look of total focus on his face.
“What else?” he murmured. “Did you change your shampoo?”
“No!” I protested, picking it back up. “It’s just a fresh bottle. I didn’t change a thing!”
He hummed and plucked it from my hand.
“Hey! I need that.”
He flicked it open and waved a hand over the opening, sniffing carefully.
“You know, this is very strange,” I told him.
“This smells wrong,” he replied, pulling my towel from where I’d left it. “Dry off. If you changed nothing, I need to check the synthesiser.”
“What about my shower?”
“If there’s something wrong with the shampoo, you’re better off not putting it on your skin.”
“My hair, you mean.”
I realised I’d left him an opening the instant his eyes lit up impishly and he bared his teeth in a grin. “Well…” he drawled.
I hit him with the towel.
Turns out, there was something wrong with the synthesiser. We analysed the shampoo, too. Wouldn’t have killed me, but would probably have clumped my hair. Not too much of a tragedy with my hair, but everyone else’s would have turned out bad. Pays off to pay attention to the things Avon notices, it does.