They were sitting together, and he was making that face at her again.

"Rosto, stop it."

"Stop what?"

Again. Ugh.

"You know. That expression."

"What expression?" he asked, perfectly innocent.

"The one you make every time you're thinking about taking me to bed with you."

He grinned wickedly. "I don't know what you mean."

"Really."

They are both sitting on the floor of her room, feeding the pigeons.

"You seem to notice quite a lot of things about me, don't you."

"Perhaps."

"What? Oh, come on, Beka, you have to give me more than that!" he puts on an expression of mock outrage. "How can you deny so ideal a man as myself the praise he rightfully deserves?"

"It wasn't praise I was thinking of imparting."

"Ah, but I am worthy of it, wouldn't you say? Note my sculpted cheekbones, my dear! And the fine hair of the palest gold, which surpasses even the moon in beauty! And my eyes! Like polished stones, black stones, like stars twinkling in the blackest void!"

"You seem to have this all figured out in your head, don't you. And the hair's white."

"No, it's not. Any way, I don't hear anything better coming from your mouth."

Beka suppresses a grin. "I don't think my words would be compatible with your own personal opinion of yourself."

He stretches like a cat, conveniently bringing himself closer to her. "Try me."

"Very well." She gives him a long measured look and pointedly moves back an inch or two so that the distance between them is restored. "You're extremely vain."

"Ouch. Shot through the heart, Beka."

"You're far too self-assured around others."

"And another! Look at me bleed."

"Especially the mots."

He gives her a scathing look. "And if only you'd give me a chance, I could show it wasn't just talk."

"Spare me. I'd druther not."

"Yes, I'm aware of that." He sighs loudly and dramatically. "Very well, continue."

"You take pride in your reputation. You're crooked. You're prone to taking revenge."

"Ah, but Beka, these are all things I know!" he says airily. "Impress me a little, here."

She looks at him squarely.

"Fine."

She takes a deep breath.

"You're every inch a criminal, but underneath you've got a sense of honor stronger than most Dog's."

He looks up at that. Beka's usually fond of telling him how deficit his morals are.

"You're loyal, extremely loyal. You protect those you love."

A blush heats her face- stop looking at me!- but she keeps going.

"You're witty. Intelligent. And… And though you try to hide it, you're actually quite generous."

Rosto's shifted himself now, moved a little closer.

"You've got a sense of humor like a snake's, eyes like a foxes and a heart like a lion."

He's very close now, she's looking right into his eyes. Beka looks down, her blush growing even deeper, but he grasps her chin lightly and she's looking at him again.

"You're… You're just you. I don't think you'd be you any other way, and if it came to a toss up between you and the Nobles, I'd choose you any day." She coughs, avoiding his eyes, and tries to pull away. "Let go of me."

"No."

"I'm going to go find Pounce. He's been missing for a while, I think he might-"

"That cat can look after itself, if I'm any judge."

"I don't know, Rosto, I really think I should go look for him, it's not normal for him to be gone like th-"

"For Goddess' sake, Beka! Would you please stop talking, just this once?"

Startled, she looks at him.

His lips, cool, and her face, blushing.

"I know you like me," he says quietly against her lips. "You watch me too much for that not to be the case. Why?"

She could get up. She could run. She could scream, tear down the steps, leave him and live his life, find another city and find another job, find someplace that wasn't here with everything she wanted laid out in front of her and yet forbidden.

Beka Cooper does not run.

"Because everything I said was true."