Juvinich did not want to. He had to think of a way out of this problem quickly. With a sideways glance at the man, he stooped to crawl into the hut. The woman inside scuttled to press herself against one wall.
There was barely enough room inside for two people, especially if they wanted to keep from touching each other. Against all intention, Juvinich wound up sitting so that his thighs rubbed against the thighs of the woman. In the dark, he could barely see her face. Long hair hid most of it as she kept her eyes lowered.
She looked soft enough, Juvinich supposed. She risked a quick glance at him before hiding behind her hair again. From what he could tell, her clothing barely covered delicate areas most women in The Militia would be appalled to admit having. She shifted her weight, not because she was uncomfortable with touching him so much as she was supporting herself with one hand on the ground.
“I’m sorry,” Juvinich said, “but I’m not looking for a wife. I tried to tell your father, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”