PART VII: Silver > GoldVANDRIS SHIPYARD EPSILON, CARGO HANGAR (6 MINUTES, 42 SECONDS UNTIL SELF-DESTRUCT)

  “Over there. We’ll take that one.” Avon points to a Rebel Golem-Fd11 medium shuttle. “It’ll get us past their cruisers.”

  “HAYTON!!”

  *fsh*

  Suddenly, Silent Control teleports in front of the Rebel vessel. Underneath her helmet, her eyes glow furiously with purple sparks.

  “Well, hello again.”

  “Don’t you py dumb! I know what you did!” Silent Control points a finger at Avon. “You reactivated the QF bombs in these factories. Do you have any idea how powerful those things are!? You’ll kill hundreds!”

  “That is the idea.”

  “You dumb fuck! You’ll just add fuel to the fire!” Silent Control shrieks. “Abort the detonation, you fairy princess reject!!”

  “Infantile profanity notwithstanding, even if I were to comply, that timer can’t be stopped. Not even by me,” Avon reveals. “So, c’est vie, bitch. Although, your life will end in about six minutes, give or take.”

  “You…! You will pay for this!!”

  “Bill the company if you desire reimbursement,” Avon taunts.

  “GRAH–!!”

  ZAAAAPP

  Avon calmly deflects Silent Control’s lightning with a barrier. The Rebel then unches another rage-filled lightning bst at the gunship, but Avon blocks that one, too.

  “Hoarfrost, get that ship working. I’ll take care of Silent Control.” Avon throws away her rifle and summons a whip in each hand. “I want this victory all to myself.”

  Khan nods. “Make sure not to let her grab you, Vice General. Ad astra pro Humanite.”

  Avon’s choice to take on Silent Control herself intrigued the tter. Based on her recent thoughts, this was out of character for that foul-mouthed blonde heiress.

  “You know I’m gonna kick your bougie ass, right IQ?” she jeers while removing her gun belt. “While you sucked from a silver spoon, I’ve been brawling since I was six years old.”

  Answering with a roar, Avon flicks both whips at Silent Control, damaging her helmet.

  “Argh–!”

  The Rebel recoils; the whips crack her visor, exposing a sliver of her right eye. Silent Control was caught off-guard by the Vice General’s ferocity. In fact, Avon surprised herself.

  “You aren’t the first to underestimate me, but you will be the st,” Avon replies.

  She spins on her heel and continues to batter Silent Control with fluid shes. The Rebel Silencer lifts her hands to shield her face. Shifting gears, Avon twirls her whips to sso her by her forearms.

  “Oh? You shouldn’t have done that.”

  Using her whole body, Silent Control yanks Avon toward her using her own whips. She raises her arms to hit her with a devastating clothesline. Falling hard, Avon’s whips dissipate as she groans in pain. With a heave, Silent Control then lifts the other Silencer over her head and sms her onto the floor.

  While Avon’s head spins, the Rebel turns her attention back to the fleeing Confederates. Seeing this, the Vice General draws her knife to stab her in the leg.

  *grab*

  “Attacking people from behind. The one thing you can always count on GSAF to do.”

  Avon groans in pain as Silent Control twists her wrist. After forcing her to drop the knife, she sweeps Avon’s legs…

  WHAM

  …then sends her flying with a backhand.

  Avon falls back down with a dent in the side of her helmet. Standing over her, Silent Control shakes her head, disappointed at her ck of fighting skills. For a Silencer, she was an inadequate opponent.

  “Is that all, you got, you limp noodle!? C’mon, woman up!” she barks. “Or was Gregori’s life not worth fighting for? I guess he wasn’t really your friend.”

  “I’LL KILL YOU!!”

  Avon screams in anger and swings at Silent Control. Catching her fist in her palm, the Rebel counters with a headbutt. She then followed up with a powerful one-two combo, rattling Avon further.

  Finally, Silent Control grabbed Avon’s undefended shoulders and decked her again with a knee to her liver.

  “So… I was right…” the Rebel pants, slightly out of breath. “You do care about Gregori. What a twist.”

  Avon coughs from the pain. Every part of her body was aching, stinging, and throbbing.

  “You… you better…” she breathes, slowly getting back up. “Keep my friend’s name… out of your fucking mouth!!”

  “‘Friend?’ Yeah, I don’t think you have the right to say that,” Silent Control sneers. “‘Shield’ might be a better word.”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  “Avon, at first, I thought we were kinda simir. Two freakish babes burdened with power trying to find our pce. Sadly, I was very wrong.”

  “I said, shut the fuck up!!”

  “Like, I may be a Rebel, but I would never think about letting my best friend send herself to her death. I mean, even for a Hayton, you suck. No wonder you’re alone. You’ll always be alone.”

  The guilt hits Avon like a stack of bricks. Sadly, she’s right; Avon is far from a decent Human being. She didn’t deserve Gregori’s unrequited friendship. Saddened to the point of speechlessness, Avon lowers her head in shame.

  POW

  “What the–!?”

  A gunshot breaks Avon out of her head. At the same time, Silent Control staggers, clutching her bleeding thigh. Behind her stands Khan with his rifle raised.

  “Hoarfrost…?” Silent Control mumbled.

  “On your feet, Vice General!”

  Shaking off her emotional pain, Avon quickly picked herself up and dashed through the hatch as it closed behind her. Worried, Khan follows her as she takes the helm in the cockpit.

  “Anything broken, ma’am?”

  “Not physically.”

  “I told you not to let her grab you,” he chides dryly. “Saying Silent Control has the strength of ten men would be a gross understatement.”

  “How does anyone even get that strong?” Avon wonders while engaging the thrusters. “Advanced steroids? Custom hydraulics? Either would expin her height.”

  “No, she’s all-natural,” he replied. “Apparently, the secret is the ‘cake and ice cream’ diet.”

  “Zip it.” Avon takes the controls as the gunship hovers into the air. “No time for the door. Hold on.”

  *whoosh* BOOM

  Avon fires the gunship’s missiles at the hangar door, causing an explosive decompression. After that, the shuttle flies through the hole without clipping the edges.

  Meanwhile, Silent Control teleported into a control tower. While healing herself, she watches them escape with gritted teeth. After resealing the hangar, she finds her gun belt and puts it back on.

  WARNING: 3 MINUTES UNTIL SELF-DESTRUCT

  “Oh, almost forgot about that,” Silent Control ughs sardonically. “Silly me. Welp, better round everyone up and get the hell outta dodge. Good thing my portals have become much better now.”

  “As for my… repcement, there’s always next time,” she sighs. Removing her helmet to wipe her brow, Silent Control takes a second to rest.

  “That girl was such a jerk.”

  GOLEM-Fd11 MEDIUM ESCORT SHUTTLE

  At the same time, Avon also removed her helmet. Good peripheral vision is critical during spaceflight. Luckily, the naval battle was beginning to wind down, so there weren’t too many obstacles.

  “Reprogram the comm to open a one-way channel to all Confederate ships, right now,” she orders Khan.

  Avon points to what was probably a comm system to her right. This gunship, like most Rebel craft, wasn’t a Hayton IP, making her unfamiliar with the yout.

  “But our allies don’t know–”

  “Just do it.”

  Khan flinches when Avon’s eyes briefly turn purple in front of him. He only saw the st few moments of her fight against Silent Control, but whatever happened must’ve been very distressing for her.

  Khan knows how dangerous intense pathos can be for Silencers. Humans are a naturally passionate species, and receiving psionic power will amplify all personality traits, good and bad. When fighting alongside her, he noticed Avon wasn’t very stable, likely due to a lifetime of compartmentalizing. He mentally vows to keep an eye on her until this rush subsides.

  “Channel’s open,” he says ftly.

  “This is Vice General Avonnica Hayton of the CSS Legend. In less than one minute, multiple quantum nuclear bombs will detonate in this zone. I advise Confederate vessels to get clear, or you’ll be destroyed.”

  With that curt warning, Avon cuts the cord. She shouldn’t have to listen to the suspicious ravings of paranoid officers right now. Then, a soldier frantically barges into the cockpit.

  “What do you want?” she growls at him.

  “V-Vice General, you need to get down here!”

  “And why should I do that?”

  “The Commander… His condition has taken a turn for the worse.” The soldier fidgets as Avon gasps in shock. “His heart rate slowed, and his body temperature’s dropped,” he spells out.

  “Get us onto the nearest Confederate ship! Send them my command code with this!” After jamming her necktie into Khan’s hand, Avon follows the soldier into the cabin. “You have the conn!” she yells behind her.

  A bit ter, the quantum nuclear devices inside each shipyard all detonate. Chunks of debris fly into many unfortunate ships from both sides, damaging or destroying them. Luckily, the Confederates who heeded the Vice General’s curt warning were able to watch the carnage from a safe distance.

  “To look on the bright side, I count this as a victory,” Khan comments to no one, alone in the cockpit.

  Below him, he hears Avon racking her brain and loudly voicing her anger at her ck of ideas. Behind his cool expression, Khan was beginning to worry; the Vice General was dispying signs of obsession.

  “…Maybe I’ll leave this part out in my report.”

  CSS OVERLORD, MED BAY

  To cut maintenance costs, medical facilities on small Saber-css destroyers like the CSS Overlord were ill-equipped and out-of-date. Despite this, the Android doctors tried to treat as many people as possible. Fortunately, the number of wounded was rather low compared to an average battle with the Rebels.

  After nding the gunship in the Overlord’s hangar, Rokov was rushed to the med bay on Avon’s orders. She also ordered them to make him their first priority. And when they got there, Avon insisted on supervising.

  She may not know much about medicine, but she knew the medical staff weren’t making any more progress than she was. Frustrated, the Vice General taps one of the Android surgeons on the shoulder to get his attention.

  “Will he live?”

  “No, but he did regain consciousness a few times. He may have survived that lightning bst, but his body absorbed too much psionic energy. This level of cell damage is beyond our repair. I estimate he has about 48 hours, tops.”

  “What if I healed him with my powers?” she suggests.

  “This mady is a far cry from that GSW you repaired earlier, ma’am,” he replies. “Using psionics to heal a psionic injury will only kill him faster. It’ll be like treating a viral condition with its vaccine.”

  “Then, can’t you just… drain the energy out of him!?”

  Intrigued by this idea, the surgeon dwells on it, consulting the medical databases programmed into his ELIM. Yet, he eventually shakes his head.

  “It is feasible, but look around, ma’am. We don’t have the equipment for such an advanced procedure. At this point, we should terminate him before his condition gets worse.”

  “Absolutely not!”

  “Look, no one likes it when a friend has to go, but you’ll get over it. If you want, I’ll let you do the honors.” He points to Avon’s holstered DH-25 Lupine, which makes her growl.

  “Then again… a lethal injection will also suffice.”

  Despite having more medical knowledge than any Human professional (for a fraction of the cost), Android military doctors are also programmed to assess whether or not patients are worth treating. Modern Humans might be more resilient than their ancestors from Earth, but quality medicine is expensive in the Confederacy.

  As for Avon, she never liked humanoid robots, finding the idea of Humans being repced by machines repulsive. Especially if the machines were intentionally designed to cut corners.

  “Hypothetically speaking, if the psiotas in Rokov were removed, what then?”

  “Then, all he’d need are two basic injections today and tomorrow to repair the cellur damage,” the surgeon informs. “After that, he should make a full recovery with enough rest.”

  “I see. Then, I’m giving you a new order: do not terminate Rokov. Disobey, and I will personally crush your brain.”

  The Android jumps. He may be robotic, but his ELIM was made from a Human brain converted for mechanical use. And the primal fear of death isn’t an easy impulse to override.

  “Look me in the eyes and tell me you understand, Android,” Avon utters.

  “I-I understand, Vice General,” he stammers.

  “Good. I’ll be back shortly. Stand by.”

  Stepping out of the med bay, Avon takes out her phone to call Khan. Luckily, he answered in two rings, implying he was idle. And even if he wasn’t, since he was the only other reliable engineer within her reach, Avon would’ve forced him to help.

  “Hoarfrost, how quickly can you construct a device to safely extract psiotas from the Human body?” she demands.

  “You know, Vice General, the proper way to start a phone call is ‘hello.’”

  “Not in the mood for jokes. Answer the damn question.”

  “About four hours, give or take,” he estimates after a short pause. “If you can get ahold of some psionic tech, I can do it in a fraction of that. Preferably of Alliance origin. Some deiyaruun crystals would be useful as well.”

  “I understand. Come to the med bay, we can discuss this further in person.”

  “On my way. And…” Khan hesitates. “Um, and if it’s any soce, Hayton, I admire that you’re trying to save your friend. It’s very noble of you.”

  “Noble…” Avon repeats faintly. “Hmph, you’re mistaken. I’m only motivated by the challenge of this experiment, nothing more.”

  CSS OVERLORD, MED BAY (1.5 HOURS LATER)

  “And… done!”

  Khan proudly seals the final panel on his and Avon’s first joint project, a subcutaneous psiota extractor (tentative name). Avon accessed the CSS Overlord’s records to learn that the ship had recently taken part in a series of raids against the Deldraka. By pulling rank, she and Khan managed to acquire everything they needed from various departments and storage rooms in minutes.

  On the outside, this machine was an unremarkable metal box about the size of a throw pillow. A series of copper wires tipped with hypodermic needles came out of the sides, and three slots for synth-psi power cells were located on the top. However, the real innovation was on the inside.

  Psiotas are traditionally maniputed via thought, but certain materials can also affect them. Since deiyaruun crystals can concentrate these particles, the two engineers pooled their technical knowledge to use this property to save Rokov. And it only took ninety minutes.

  Finally, the two tech geniuses shake hands triumphantly as a sign of mutual intellectual respect. They carefully pce the extractor on a table next to Rokov’s unconscious body.

  “Sedate him,” Avon commands the Android surgeon. He carefully injects some sedative into Rokov to ensure he won’t wake up.

  “We should also have some resuscitation equipment ready. Just in case,” Khan recommends.

  “Sorry. Our st AED broke a while ago. And our cortical stimutors–”

  “Forget it, then,” Avon interjects.

  “I must say, for something you cobbled together out of scrap, this device looks very impressive,” the surgeon comments. “Do you think it’ll work?”

  “We don’t exactly have time for a test run,” Avon replies dryly. “So, shall we find out together?”

  The Android carefully inserts each wire into Rokov’s lymph nodes. Meanwhile, Khan pces a power cell into each slot. Right now, he was way more nervous than Avon. Most Silencers think their powers are exactly the same as the Deldraka’s, but this isn’t true. And since Silent Control was a Mutant, the number of uncertainties in this risky experiment made his heart race.

  Still, the sniper puts on a brave face and says nothing. Keeping Avon ignorant was the best course of action right now.

  “Here goes… something,” he mutters. With a sweaty finger, Khan flips the switch.

  *click*

  Almost immediately, purple psionic energy began flowing out of Rokov’s body and through the wires. Slowly, the first power cell is filled to the brim before moving on to the next. Once each cell is saturated, Khan repces it with one of the empty ones he brought.

  Holy crap, this is actually going to work! he cheers. Thank God I was worried over–

  “Dammit!” he swears.

  “What’s wrong?” questioned Avon. Khan points to the box where he put the power cells.

  “Silent Control’s attack was way more powerful than I thought. I only brought six power cells, and we just filled the fourth one. There isn’t time to get another, and we can’t abort the transfer mid-way.”

  Avon panics at Khan’s words… for less than a second. She had come this far, she wasn’t going to give up over a capacity problem. Shoving Khan aside, she reads the numbers on the medical charts while doing calcutions in her head.

  “The remaining psiota level is equivalent to just under a fourth of a power cell,” she muses. “That’s not fatal. I can take that.”

  “What do you mean you can–” Avon gives Khan a look while pointing to herself. “No! No way! If you absorb Silent Control’s power, there could be drastic consequences!”

  “You said there isn’t time,” Avon argues. “You also said you supported me.”

  “Your body is a temple, not a battery!” Khan cries. “Come to your senses, Avon! You’re not thinking rationally!”

  Ignoring him, she carelessly yanks out the st power cell while ripping off her inhibitor.

  “I don’t care! I’m not losing my only friend!”

  Bracing herself, the Vice General pces her hands over one of the slots.

  “AAAHHHH!!”

  Avon howls in pain as the psiotas enter her arms, creating a purple hue inside her veins. Grimacing and twitching involuntarily, she fights the urge to pull away, pressing down harder instead. When she opened her eyes, a series of glowing rings had appeared, covering almost all the brown in her pupils.

  “Doctor, help me!” Khan rushes to pull Avon away, but the Android stops him. The two struggle briefly, but the former comes out on top.

  “If you touch her, the energy will overload your cybernetics!” he cries. “This was her choice. You shouldn’t sacrifice your ability to walk for it.”

  Frustrated, Khan shoves him even though he knows he’s right. For the next few minutes, Avon’s agonizing shrieks echo through the med bay. Powerless to stop the Vice General, Khan could only watch with bated breath, praying that she would survive.

  *ding*

  The machine automatically deactivates after completing its task. Avon steps back, her fatigued eyes fluttering as they return to their original brown color.

  “Perfectio… aut… nihilum…”

  *thud*

  After murmuring her family’s motto, the elite unceremoniously passes out.

  “It appears the Vice General has fainted.”

  “Thank you, Doctor Roboto,” Khan replies sarcastically. “I’ll take care of her; you check on the Commander.”

  Crouching down, Khan shifts Avon’s blonde hair to check her pulse. Her heart was racing, and her temperature was high, but both were quickly returning to normal. For now, there were no side effects; she was just asleep.

  “She’s okay,” said Khan.

  “So is the Commander,” the Android adds. “Should we keep them here for further observation?”

  “No, send three men to help me take them back to the Legend. Our med bay will be quite busy, so I’ll bring them to the Vice General’s quarters.”

  “Got it.”

  Once the Android leaves, Khan gently takes off Avon’s boots and jacket to make her more comfortable. He also removes her weapons and phone and leaves her belongings in a neat pile. Apparently, Avon keeps an extra derringer in her jacket and a micro pistol in her boot.

  “Just rex, Vice General,” he whispers gently. “Tomorrow will be a new day.”

  CSS LEGEND, AVON’S QUARTERS (THE NEXT MORNING)

  “Mmm…”

  Rokov’s eyes slowly open as he comes to. Once the fog in his head clears, he can feel that he’s in a bed with small electronic noises in the background. When he rolls, the bnket around him rustles lightly. Whoever’s bed this was, it was remarkably soft and smelled fantastic.

  Like napping on a cloud in perfume heaven, he thinks. At least, I think this is what it’d be like.

  A voice called out to him, but Rokov was still too groggy to make it out. “Hnngh… Who is it?” he mumbles.

  “It’s me, Gregori.”

  “Avon?”

  Rokov sat up and saw his friend crouched in front of her armor stand, repairing her suit. Instead of her uniform, she wore a casual navy blue blouse over bck tights.

  Avon had woken up some time ago from a terrible stomachache, likely due to Silent Control’s blows. She spent a long time throwing up, brushing her teeth, and showering. Only now was she feeling better, and fixing things soothed her as much as a hot bath.

  Meanwhile, this was the first time Rokov saw Avon out of uniform. Admittedly, he fantasized about her a few times, mainly her chest, and she was far bigger than he thought. Her top was stretched tightly over her bust, hiking up the hem, and her leggings weren’t faring much better. Looking a little closer, he discovered she wasn’t even wearing a bra.

  You dumbass! Get your goddamn mind outta the gutter! To this end, Rokov pinches himself hard, redirecting the blood back into his upper head.

  “I can tell I’m in your quarters… So, this must be your bed?” he asks.

  “An excellent deduction,” she responds snidely.

  “No wonder it smells funny.”

  “You could always move to the floor. I have a futon in my closet.”

  “I didn’t say I don’t like it.”

  Avon “hmphs” lightly before turning her back to him again. When she woke up, the first thing she did was find Rokov spyed out on her carpet in an awkward position. So, the second thing she did was make him more comfortable. Moving someone almost twice her size isn’t easy without psionic strength, and this is the thanks she gets?

  “How long was I out?” Rokov asks.

  “Around twenty hours.”

  “Did we win?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “What about Silent Control?”

  Avon flinches upon hearing that name. That woman had nearly killed them both as child’s py, and it made her enraged.

  If only Avon were stronger. She would’ve conquered that traitor and restored her General’s name. Then, she wouldn’t just be a branch on her family tree. She’d be remembered as the brightest, most illustrious star in Human history. Her legacy will be immortalized and admired for all time.

  “Unknown, but the General has returned from the surface,” Avon divulges. “He gave me this time to rest, but he wishes to debrief me in a few minutes.”

  Rokov nods with understanding. “Thanks for saving me, Avon. I owe you big time.”

  Avon flinches again as the guilt from before hits her just as hard once again.

  If Gregori truly is my friend… he deserves to know my true nature, she rationalizes. So, she abruptly drops her tools and sits on her bed to talk to him.

  “Yes, about that, I have a confession to make.”

  “Remember when the Rebellion had us pinned down? You volunteered to risk your life to draw their fire. While I objected at the time, if Hoarfrost hadn’t arrived…”

  Avon trailed off, starting to have second thoughts. Still, she forced herself to go on.

  You weakling! All you’ve done is feed off his good intentions like a parasite! Avon angrily berates herself. Even Haytons must pay their pipers.

  “I… I was going to order you to your death, Gregori. And my only thoughts were to accomplish my mission. No matter what.”

  “So, basically, even after all the time we’ve spent, all the kindness you’ve shown me… I still saw you as an expendable asset…”

  Then, Avon starts to cry. She tried shutting her eyes to contain the tears, to no avail. Her mouth couldn’t even form words now, only unintelligible and pathetic sobs.

  “Avon…”

  To her shock, Rokov sits up and tenderly wraps his arms around Avon. He holds her tight, pressing her trembling body close. There wasn’t any lust in his mind, just the pure intention of helping a tortured friend.

  “Shhh… Don’t worry, it’s all right,” he mutters. “I know how scary it can be to watch a friend die. But all that matters is that you saved me in the end.”

  “You may be an elite, but that doesn’t mean you can’t do good things. What you did for me, Avon, is something I won’t ever forget.”

  “We are soldiers of the Gactic Confederacy. We kill for a living,” Avon mutters. “Excess sentiment will only hinder us.”

  “Yeah, and that’s why our instructors try to make us into faceless robots who won’t even take our helmets off without permission. Maybe being a machine makes life easier, but it’s not who we are,” said Rokov. “We’re soldiers second and Humans first.”

  On the verge of tears himself, he gently strokes Avon’s soft blonde hair, an action which comforts both of them. He can feel her lightly hiccuping in his embrace, struggling to pull herself together.

  “My whole life, I’ve been better with machines and equations than with people. I was so focused on reaching my full potential, I forgot how lonely it is at the top,” Avon reveals. “Only with you am I comfortable being myself, Gregori. I don’t– I can’t lose you.”

  “Yet, as a military officer, my objectives must take first priority. What should I do? How do I put an end to this conflict of interest?”

  “There’s only one thing you can do, Avon: decide whether to lead with your head or your heart,” Rokov tells her. “I can’t make that decision for you, but know that I’ll be your friend either way.”

  “And I’m talking about ‘Real Avon,’ not ‘Golden Avon.’ ‘Golden Avon’ would never save someone she cares about. She doesn’t care about anything.”

  “So, these ‘imperfections’ don’t make you a bad person; they make you Human. And all that means is that we now have something in common.”

  Avon continues sobbing lightly as Rokov holds her. However, these were tears of joy. She now knew their friendship was a symbiotic retionship, one that brought out the best in both of them.

  “Okay, I’ve let it all out. You can let me go,” said Avon. Rokov clumsily releases her as she wipes her eyes with her shirt sleeve. “And Gregori, can you promise me something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Promise me that you’ll always try to stay alive. Don’t take any more unnecessary risks,” she pleads. “I don’t wish to repeat this episode… or lose you for real.”

  “I can’t do that, Avon.”

  “Huh?”

  “If I agree to this, you’ll have to take on the world by yourself again. And that’s something neither of us want,” he answers. “Instead, I’ll promise to always have your back. In return, you have to promise to always be yourself with me. Okay?”

  Compared to what she asked, Rokov’s proposal sounded much better. So, Avon gdly extends her right hand.

  “I promise.”

  Then, Rokov firmly shakes it. His rough palm was smudging her signet ring, but that didn’t bother her at all.

  “I promise, too.”

  Finally, they let go of each other’s hand, satisfied.

  *awkward silence*

  Despite this heartwarming conclusion, Avon and Rokov sat in uncomfortable silence, occasionally gncing at each other’s faces for a hint. Neither of them knew what came after moments like this.

  Seriously, I saved Gregori, revealed my inner demons, and consolidated our friendship. Why won’t this chapter just end!?

  “You know, in the movies, this is usually when the protagonist and heroine would kiss,” Rokov suggests, distracting Avon from her thoughts.

  “Fuck you.”

  “Oh, my…” Rokov jokingly gasps with a hand over his mouth. “Well, I’m sure as hell not kissing something that dirty~”

  Avon sighed, but Rokov caught a tiny smile on her face. “Just go back to sleep, Gregori.”

  “Can you tuck me in?”

  “Don’t push it.”