Original: "Translation"

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Title: Translation
Characters: Shaima, Will
Summary: "You sound like my sister with a bad head cold."

"Shukran."

"Shurkan?"

"Shukran." She's torn between exasperation and amusement- how can this be so difficult? She picked up his language quickly enough. Still, he looks so earnest as he mispronounces the word that she can't help but soften a little.

"Shukran?" he tries again, only it comes out sounding like "shukrain" and she laughs in spite it herself. He looks hurt."I'm sorry." she forces out between chuckles.

His face softens, and he begins to grin too. "That bad?"

She swallows the last of her laughter. "You sound like my sister with a bad head cold."

He cocks his head. "Your sister?"

She nods. "I told you about her, remember?"

"'Course I remember." He frowns slightly. "I really sound like your sister?"

She has to struggle to keep from laughing again. "Well, maybe my brother." she allows. "Does it matter?"

He looks at her, still laughing, a piece of hair hanging in front of his eyes. "Well, I'd rather not be related to you. I'd be kind of awkward."

She stiffens, and pulls herself away from him, ignoring the confusion on his face. Mentally, she files "family" away as a potentially dangerous topic of conversation. She takes a deep breath. "Let's try again. Shukran jazilan . . ."