"No way! No bloody way!" Johns rolled his eyes at the infuriated Shaza, wondering where his life had gone so wrong that now he had to argue his orders with a woman. Whatever happened to blind obedience? The world needed more of that.
"Look, Riddick's got a soft spot for kids," he explained for what felt like the hundredth time. "I go in there, he'll clam up. You go in there and, assuming you can control yourself enough not to try to kill him, he'll just start fucking with your head. But the kid… she might be able to get some answers out of him."
"You want to send a little girl in there to interrogate a convicted murderer?" Shaza demanded, dark eyes burning with rage. "Why, you are the-"
Johns never got to find out exactly what he was, however, because the kid chose that moment to step out of her hiding place, her face mulish, and say, "I'm not little! And I'm not scared. I'll go talk to Riddick."
"Jack-" Shaza began, but Johns cut her off, saying, "Just get him talking, kid. Riddick loves the sound of his own voice, and with your little hero worship thing going on he won't be able to resist the urge to brag." Jack nodded determinedly, trying, and failing, to hide her excitement. Johns just frowned and, without so much as a backwards glance at Shaza, led Jack towards Riddick's temporary prison.
Boots, cargos, sweat, blood, youth. So, they had sent the girl. Riddick wasn't surprised. Johns probably figured he'd be at ease, not have his guard up as much around the kid, maybe even let something slip. Riddick smiled to himself. This was going to be easier than he'd thought.
"So," he said, hearing the girl jump as he addressed her, eyes still closed against the weak light filtering into the hull. "You must be the carrot to John's stick. I'm surprised it took him this long. What was the hold up?" Silence. The kid was trying to figure out his game. Riddick repressed his grin.
"Shaza didn't want me to come," she replied after a few beats, her voice reluctant, as if she didn't know whether she should be saying that.
"Ah, of course," Riddick acknowledged, dipping his head. "Didn't want to let Johns send you to do his dirty work, not when I'm such a bad, dangerous man." More silence. Kid didn't know what to say to that. Riddick let her simmer for a few moments, then took pity. "He probably told you to get me talking, am I right? Well, what are you waiting for, Jack? Ask me something." She smelled like excitement and adrenaline, no fear tainting her scent. Riddick frowned, unsure of whether he enjoyed that fact or not.
"Can I see your eyes?" The question was timid, but filled with curiosity, as if Jack knew she shouldn't ask it, but really, really wanted the answer. Riddick let himself smile this time.
"You'll have to come a lot closer for that," he replied, voice rumbling up out of his chest as his beast sniffed the air, intrigued. A pause, the a few shuffling steps.
"Closer," he murmured. A few more steps. He could feel her now, feel the gentle press of her body's energy near his. His legs shot out, wrapping themselves around her waist and yanking her towards just as Riddick opened his eyes, survey his captive.
Absent was the fear, the disgust, the horror that he usually faced. Instead all he could see in Jack's eyes was amazement. Her mouth was actually hanging open, which nearly caused Riddick to snort with amusement.
"Where the hell can I get eyes like that?" she breathed, still holding eye contact, seemingly unconcerned by her proximity to the universe's most renowned serial killer.
"You gotta kill a few people," Riddick replied, unsure of whether he liked her bravery or wanted to remind her why she should tremble before him.
"Fine, I can do it," she assured him hastily, grinning. Riddick couldn't help but return the smile. She could. In that moment, Riddick saw what she could be, what monster lurked under the surface of her skin, just waiting for the day it could rip itself free.
"Then you gotta get sent to a slam," he continued, leaning forward and drawing in her scent. "One where they tell you you'll never see daylight again. You take up a doctor, and you pay him twenty menthol Kools to do a surgical shine job on your eyes." She smelled like sand and dirt and blood and metal, harsh, sharp smells at odds with her soft, rounded skin.
"So you can see who's sneaking up on you in the dark," she surmised, grinning at him, unperturbed by his nearness.
"Exactly," he agreed. She had a good mind. A criminal's mind. The merry little band seemed to forget that she was a street kid, that she had spent most of her life on the run, hunted by police and criminals alike, stealing for her meals, sleeping on ledges and benches.
"Did you kill Zeke?" Her voice was calm, neutral even, as if she was trying to say she wouldn't judge him if he had. Riddick had to chuckle.
"No, kid," he replied, speaking more gently than before. "I've killed plenty of people, but Zeke wasn't one of them. Something else got him."
"He's not in the hole," Jack said, and from any other person it would have sounded like an accusation, but from Jack it was just a fact. "We looked."
"Look deeper," was his reply as he studied her, weighing his options. "Whatever you find, it's going to be worse than me. And that means that I need you to give Johns a message for me." Jack perked up, nodding eagerly.
"Tell him," Riddick continued, "when he finally finds his monsters, I'll be waiting here for him, ready to make a deal: my freedom in exchange for protection. You got that?" Jack nodded again. Satisfied, Riddick loosened his legs from around her tiny waist. For a moment she didn't move just looked at him. Riddick smirked, jerking his head towards the stairs and nearly laughing at the disappointed look that flickered across Jack's face as she moved away.
"Oh, and Jack," he called, causing the girl to turn and look at him. "Don't you dare go down that hole."