Coop looked back at him, and then out the front screen, eyebrows furrowing a little. They sat there for a long time, and he had infinite patience. He let her think, pulling up a novel on his screen and reading, all in complete silence. Finally, she took in a breath and looked at him again.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Something else? Yes," he looked up at her, finger closing the screen with the novel without looking back at it.

"What would you do?"

"I wasn't given a choice, but then, I didn't want one," he said simply, twirling his chair to face hers fully. "I was… rescued, and my life belonged to the company." He shrugged. "You, however, were not a high-risk rescue. You were my choice. My boss made it quite clear that if you were with us, you're with me, and I am fully responsible for you. It won't be easy, but it'll be fun." He made a vague gesture. "Mostly. You'll be paid, of course, and completely provided for." He watched as her face visibly went through all of this new information. She was still considering. He had to make sure. "If you decide to leave, I will simply drop you off with your bag and a few credits and say goodbye. You'd have your freedom either way; I'm offering you a career along with it."

"You said I could choose to be a slave?"

"If you would prefer that, then I would be fine with that arrangement," he said simply, leaning forward a little. "You wouldn't get paid, but I would provide for you. You would have to do everything I said, and only me. You would grace my bed whenever it pleased me, killed when I commanded, and clean and cook, of course," he said, almost dismissively.

She stared at him, face completely blank, and she couldn't tell if he was joking or not. Was he joking? Did he know how? "Except for being paid, I don't see much of a difference," she said in an equally serious tone of voice, and the corner of his mouth twitched up into almost a smile. His eyes, however, twinkled at her.

"There isn't much. As a slave, you'd be with me forever, or until I sold you off to the highest bidder, if you ever irked me. As an employee, you could move up. I would be training you to do as I do, and, eventually, you won't need me or want me around anymore. As an old man, I would only slow you down."

"You're not that old," she replied immediately, smirking slightly.

He made a small noise. "By the time you were better than me, I would be."

She smiled fully now, which he answered with a smile of his own as he leaned back into his chair.

"Have you come to a decision?"

"Alright," she said simply with a nod. "I agree to your terms as an employee of this company."

"Oh, good," he said, getting up in a swift motion of unbuckling the safety belt and pulling out a knife from the back of his belt. She pulled immediately back into her seat, away from him, but he caught her by the arm, running a firm hand up the inside of her arm as she struggled to get away from him—well really his knife.

He found the tracker. He made a clean slice into her arm and pulled it out with swift fingers. A patch of omnigel was on her arm before she realized what had happened, and he was into the depths of his ship. She stood and followed, holding her arm. "Fuck!" She called after him, and he grunted in response.

Coop found him as he had put the tracker on the steel table and was smashing it into smithereens. As she watched, he then ran a shock through the table, and the tracker sparked, caught fire, and fizzled out of existence. He then turned to look at her. "One," he said simply.

He took her and placed her in the middle of the doorway and punched in a code to the panel on the side. She stood there, eyes on him, looking increasingly nervous with each passing second and beep and after a few more cuts, she was deemed clean.

He touched her cheek with soft fingers then. "I had to be sure."

She was suddenly overcome with emotion. She threw herself at him, arms over his shoulders, having to pop up on her tiptoes to accomplish such a feat, and hugged him fiercely. He stood there for a moment or two, entirely unsure of what to do, but let her sob into his shoulder and neck. Eventually, he dropped his knife and wrapped his arms protectively around her. This gave way to a new wave of emotion as she clung to him firmer.

She gasped out words at this point, trying to convey her gratitude, which he silenced with simple, 'its okay,' and 'its over,' and 'it'll be alright.' Eventually, the tears stopped, and, feeling foolish, she pulled away quickly, turning her back to him as she tried to dry her face with her shirt and hands.

"I'm… I'm sorry," she managed after a few minutes, and he raised his eyebrows from where he was cleaning off his knife, pretending like it didn't affect him as well. "I'm not usually…"

"You have nothing to prove to me. You have nothing that you have to do now but enjoy your freedom. I, on the other hand, am still on assignment. If you are up to it when we arrive, you are of course free to assist me."

"Yes. Yes of course," she said, turning to face him. "You never told me your name. Now, you can, right?"

He held out his right arm to her. "Kai Leng," he stated.

She took his arm to the elbow, grasping it warmly. "Lisbet Cooper."

"What should I call you?"

"Lis is fine. On assignment or in public, Coop is better to catch my attention. And what about you?"

"Either name in private. On assignment, you can call me Leng, or nothing at all. Specifics will be given out before each mission."

"And the company?"

"Cerberus," he said simply, noticing that she hadn't let go of the arm grasp, and indeed had taken a step closer. He had to adjust his gaze as he looked down at her.

"Do you have any food," she whispered up at him.

"Its not naughty to say you're hungry," he whispered back, amused.

"But if I whisper it I…" Her eyes dropped and so did her arm, and she stepped back. Coop took in a few deep breaths before she looked up at him. "I'm hungry, and I'm sure you are too. Where's the mess? I'll make us something," she said in a clear tone. He jammed his thumb vaguely to a door on the far side of the lab, which led down to the living quarters, and she immediately went to it.

He leaned forward a little to watch her as she left, nearly cutting himself as he brought his knife back up to clean. It brought his attention back to the task, which he finished within a minute. He took a few more to clean up the mess they had made with cleaning her, then picked up her bag and tugged it downstairs with him.

Leng dropped her bag in front of the door to his bedroom, not entirely sure where else to put it, and sidled into the mess. He was met with warm, homey smells, and he spotted her over in front of the stove. He came up behind her, peering over her shoulder.

"That smells amazing," he muttered, eyes onto the pan. She jumped a little, but tried to play if off.

"Good. Please tell me you haven't been eating instant noodles and MREs?" She wondered, looking up at him. He didn't answer for a long minute.

"They're easy to eat while doing reports."

"Kai," she said in a scolding tone, looking back down into the pan, which was simply eggs and sausages. There was silence for a few seconds as she stirred the eggs.

"I don't think anyone has called me by my first name in a very long time," he said finally as he stepped away to pull down two plates. She took the pan from the burner as he did and distributed the breakfast food on both plates.

"Me either, actually," she replied with a small shrug. "Ancilla, mostly." He gave her a curious look. "It means 'slave girl.' They weren't exactly the most creative swine."

"It sounds pretty. Quite misleading, actually." He pulled out two forks and set one on her plate, then leaned against the counter, using his fork to investigate the eggs. She watched him, eating her eggs slowly and quietly. "Thank you for cooking," he said before beginning to eat. She nodded in an acknowledgement, and they ate in silence for a few minutes.

"You can call me that if you want."

"No, I can't," he replied instantly. He was cutting the sausage with the side of his fork, and didn't look up at her.

"If you think its pretty, Kai…"

"Lis. There is nothing more degrading than someone calling you such an awful name. Your name is much prettier. Leave that life behind you."

"Its not that simple," she said stubbornly. "That's all I know! I don't even know what my real name is? I just—I just made one up when they asked me. Or maybe they gave it to me? I don't—I don't know."

He stabbed a piece of sausage with his fork and looked at her with an exhausted, yet concerned, look. "I will call you anything you wish. You can create a new name. You can be literally anyone. We will create new memories for you." He popped the piece of fake-meat into his mouth and chewed as they stared at each other.

"O-okay," she said hesitantly, a little surprised that she even had said that aloud to begin with. She took his empty plate from him and put them both into the dishwasher. He let her, and then cleared his throat a little.

"Are you tired?"

"A little," she admitted, looking up at him.

"Me too."

Silence, more than a little awkward, followed. He made a move towards where he set down her bag. "Here's your bag. That room there is mine—I think I have another cot somewhere. You can take the bed." She followed, a smile lingering on her lips.

"Are you sure? You don't want company?"

He turned to look at her quickly. "I don't want to set a precedent. You're my protégé, not my prisoner—You owe me nothing."

"Kai, I don't mind. I'll… feel safer knowing you're right next to me." She was staring up at him with large, brown eyes, warm and sad, and he frowned a little. There she was, tugging at his heartstrings. Again.

"I could sleep on the floor beside you."

"You don't want to sleep with me?"

His eyebrows raised up at the phrase.

"No! I didn't mean—" She sighed, eyes dropping to her feet. "Please. Its my first night free. I'd prefer if you were right there beside me. That's all I wish."

He considered her for a moment. "Alright, Lis." He bent and picked up her bag, and strode inside his room. It was bare, like most of the ship, but especially so since he spent so little time here. He had a small closet, a washroom, a bed and a nightstand which held nothing more than a lamp, his clock, and the novel he was reading (on a datapad). He set down her bag in front of the closet and sat down at the edge of the bed to take off his boots. He kept his eyes from her deliberately.

Coop let out a deep breath, and then bent down to dig in her bag for her toiletries. She didn't have much, so it didn't take long. She also picked up shorts and a long shirt, which was the closest approximation she had to pajamas, and disappeared into the washroom. When she emerged again, she was wearing the shorts and shirt, face washed, teeth brushed—and staring.

Leng was on the opposite side of the room, doing pull-ups in the doorway, shirt off even though he wouldn't sweat. She set down her things and went to sit on the bed, watching him. He noticed, and continued because he wasn't going to shortchange himself. She began to braid her long hair as she watched him, biting her lip a little, which only made him smirk.

When Leng finished, he, too, disappeared into the washroom. He took much less time than her, and then he was lying down on the bed beside her. He pulled the book up on the datapad and began to read where he had left off earlier in the evening. He wasn't surprised when, a moment later, she appeared at his shoulder, hair against his bare skin softly.

"Whatcha reading?" She wondered in a whisper.

"Wuthering Heights," he replied in the same tone.

"Sounds…. Interesting."

"Its an old Earth novel. I don't read much else besides reports."

She scooched a little closer, an arm hooking through his, fingers carefully stroking his muscles. He pretended not to care, still reading.

"What is it about?"

He made a noncommittal noise. "It's a narrative. Its not supposed to be 'about' anything." He looked at her, and she looked right back. "Did you ever learn to read?"

"Why does a fighter need to read?" The bitterness was full on in her voice now, and he set down the datapad on his stomach. She sighed and looked up at the ceiling instead of at him. "I taught myself, since no one would teach me. I can't write, but I can read."

"If there's anything you ever want to learn, you only have to ask," he told her softly, setting the datapad back on the nightstand and tugging up the covers. She conceded and got under them as well, curling up on her pillow. "It's a very archaic thing to do, to not teach a slave, or anyone, to read." He tucked his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling before reaching over to turn off the lamp with a tap. They were immersed in darkness then.

"They taught me other things," she said, and he could hear her shrug. He didn't reply, and there was silence between them. He closed his eyes, wondering if sleep would come but assuming it wouldn't. He shifted to his side, trying to get comfortable. His mind began to wander, from everything from Lockwood (from the novel), to Coop and her rescue, to how he could manage to rip out four batarian eyes all at once.

How many pieces could he cut one up in in one sweep? The thought made a smile cross his face, sleepy and sadistic.

"Kai?"

He jumped. Her voice had been quiet, but it still startled him. His eyes opened to look at her. Her arms were around his neck instantly, face buried into his hair. He heaved out a long sigh as he felt her shake with silent tears, free arm falling around her and pulling her in, tight and secure. Her hands retreated to his chest, nuzzling up under his chin, and he harbored no objections to this, but bore it silently.

"I won't let anything hurt you," he promised her in a quiet voice.

"I know," she managed. "Its just… a lot."

"I know." His arm tightened around her a little as a reassurance. "Even your dreams can't hurt you. I'll show up and kick them in the quad."

She laughed a little against his skin, then pulled back to look at him. He looked back at her, eyebrow raising.

"I'm serious," he whispered. "It'll hurt. They'll be writhing on the ground and then you can—" Her entire body shifted up, causing him to stop mid-sentence and pull back instinctively. She kissed his jawline softly before settling back into him like nothing had happened, and pretending that she didn't notice how tense he was for entire minutes afterwards. She wound a leg through his and closed her eyes with a small yawn.

He held her still, and after a few minutes, he relaxed. He hadn't expected that. Yes he had. It was the entire reason he had been reluctant to allow them to even be in the same room. He couldn't get attached, not in this line of work. He had made that mistake before, hadn't he? Never again.

Eventually, she drifted off to sleep. He settled her onto the pillow beside his, and then pulled out his book again. He wasn't going to get any sleep, so might as well make the hours where she was productive.