The top half of his face is hidden. Hers is shaded completely, mostly because her head is bowed. Both wear cloaks common to this planet and characteristic to a certain class of citizen, although the female's garb was obviously not built for the present cold and a flash of leg as they walk shows that there is not much beneath it to insulate her, either. Something suggests that she is his slave, rather than one he has borrowed or is transporting. She is most certainly a slave; her build much smaller, even adolescent, she walks a step behind him but close to his side. She must, there is a short and very solid-looking chain arcing generously between his hand and her neck. But that sense of generosity is tempered by the sight of that same chain threaded through the man's fist and around his knuckles.

They turn out of the street, where the few present to notice them very carefully did not look, through an ill-lit doorway and into a hotel where a pair like this could pass equally unquestioned.

"Two nights." The man ordered simply. One could say that he hadn't even glanced at the man behind the counter, but under that cloak there's no telling.

"Big spender!" The teller's smartass remark is automatic, like a carnival showman, as he turns around from whatever he was doing. "Cage room?" he asks more seriously, reaching for the proffered credit card. The man doesn't let go, and the teller is forced to progress from a simple glance to full eye contact. The man isn't staring him down, as he had expected. It seems that he is assessing the figure beside him. An unpleasant expression on his face, the man tightens his fist, curling it closer to himself ever so slightly. The girl cringes closer, reflexively increasing slack, and he smiles.

"No…" he finally answers, releasing the card. "I think we can handle ourselves." What wit hadn't dried up at the first glimpse of chain now seemed to be in the process of eating itself raw. That was some damn good training, but any man who owned and handled their own slaves like that was probably a merc having too much fun torturing an old mark's tag along to kill or sell her. And any merc with as well off as this guy must be truly vicious. It is distinctly unwise to mess around with that kind of man. He could only breathe an inward sigh of relief when the customer simply took his keys and turned away; he seemed much more interested in the events waiting in his hotel room than putting a smartass in his place.

- -

The man didn't release the chain until the door of the hotel room was shut and locked. No one bothered to turn the light on. With a cry of relief, the girl collapsed onto the bed, face down, while the man strode straight to the connecting restroom. He leaned heavily against the cool tile wall and pressed his fingertips to his eyelids; the sudden existence of climate control had made him unbearably hot. Unconsciously, both man and girl removed their cloaks in sync and threw them into a corner.

Making something resembling a loud pirate noise, the girl--too tired to actually get under the covers--flopped one arm over the edge of the bed, grabbed a handful of blanket, and simply rolled over to make herself a taco.

"It's so cold," she moaned, "what is it with this planet? We need to get a new set of clothes, R-"

"With what credits, Jack?" Riddick snapped, turning back into the hotel room. Maybe he had been doing too much of that lately; the dark tousled head (the only part of the girl still visible) didn't react. Hell, maybe he shouldn't have snapped at her in the first place. It wasn't her fault he couldn't provide.

"Sorry…" She muttered. And then, more clearly, " 'we eating tonight?" Something in Riddick's gut flinched as if struck.

"In the morning." He answered, trying to be a little gentler. He had been putting this off, but 'jacking ground transport was too high profile, and credits were burning faster then time. He picked his cloak up from the floor and put it back on. "Don't leave." He said, probably pointlessly. A final look before putting up his hood confirmed, it looked like she was already mostly asleep. A weary thumbs-up proved him wrong, however, and Riddick smiled. Tough kid.

- -

Riddick's goggles had been off since sunset, and his disguise didn't allow for him to replace them as he walked down the lit hallway again. Although the low hood blocked most of the light, he had to squint against the fluorescent glare from the floor and walls. He took the stairs to the third floor, and leapt from there to a neighboring roof. Finally alone again, Riddick just allowed himself to be still for a moment. He squeezed his eyes shut against the residual sting, and steeled himself for the coming night. They needed credits, bad. Mercs were starting to close in, he had heard rumors of a crew already on this planet, and they were still a long ways walk from the nearest port. The girl needed protection against the winter settling in, and their disguise was getting old. But this was a bad part of town, muggings wouldn't get him anywhere. And that meant killing drug dealers.

He looked up at the sky, dark and starless with all the manmade light around him. If it were him alone, he could just keep running. All this over the death of one woman… Damn Carolyn for tying him to this girl. And damn this girl for insisting to stay with him. Nothing could convince her to stay away, not the danger, the lifestyle, not even pretending he didn't give a shit. What was it that made it so impossible to drive them away?

- -

- -

You know, I only just now realized that the acronym for this story is OWN. Random, meaningless, but a vaguely amusing revelation. Thank you so much to my reviewers, I want you to know that you have motivated me to no doubt my fastest update on record. Although I warn that the next might not be so fast, as I'm playing with the choice of continuing this night or moving on. So as always, please review, and please be honest.

-J