There was some sound coming from the bay downstairs, but not enough to fully wake her, only enough to intrude on her dreams.

"Anna?!...Liebchen?"

Kurt's voice roused her at last and she gazed at her three-faced clock. 12:30PM Jura, 7:00AM Madripoor, 4:30AM Station Time. She sighed heavily. He had obviously returned some time in the night…just now, it sounded like.

"Wuuuuut! Jesus Christ Kurt!" Her voice was thick and groggy. Kurt could come and go as he pleased. He had all the codes for the ship. What reason could he have for waking her while they were locked and docked?

"Come here, bitte!" His voice was calm with a trace of urgency in it. Something was wrong. Her mind pulled into sharp focus and she jumped out of bed in her tank top and pajama pants. She ran painfully in bare feet along the grating to the kitchenette where Kurt was pointing his plasma rifle at someone leaning casually against the counter, a hand on the edge to either side of him.

"Etienne?" She was pleasantly surprised for a split second…then angry with herself. How dangerous it had been to solicit a criminal and give him her address. How foolish. How god-damn stupid. And she felt again what she had felt in the bar: too young.

"You know him?" Kurt's rifle flagged for a moment.

"No. Keep your gun on him." She said and Kurt snapped his eye back to the scope of the rifle, completely unnecessary at this range, but it was a force of habit that the thief took note of.

"How do you know his name?" Kurt asked.

"I…I don't."

"What?"

"I mean…someone recommended him to me. But it looks like I should've been a little more careful getting references." She added sarcastically.

The man watched and smiled at the entire exchange, then finally spoke: "My apologies chere. I didn't come to rob de place if dat's what you're thinkin'." She noticed his accent for the first time.

"Then what are you here for?"…Was it Cajun?

"Someone was lookin' for me. I just wanted to know a little more about dem is all. Didn't know your man would come back at four in de morning. Didn't t'ink you had a man. Shoulda known better." He shrugged and smiled at her.

Kurt looked at her out of the corner of his eyes. "What is he talking about?" But she only looked at the thief. She felt exposed and crossed her arms to cover her self.

"An' what do you think after casin' this place"…she said it this time…"Cajun."

His smile dipped a little bit then recovered with a new tint of insolence. He looked her up and down in a way that irritated Kurt and made her clutch her elbows tighter.

"I don' t'ink you work for de Union." He bantered back lazily, as if no weapon were trained on him.

"Is the Union what yah so scared of?" She let her own accent slip and she saw his face light with comprehension.

"Schwester?" Kurt asked quietly, but she said nothing, did not even register that he had spoken.

At the word the man shifted and looked between her and Kurt who was getting annoyed without bothering to hide it. Kurt pulled the rifle back and held it casually at port arms. At last the man looked back to her.

"I don't scare too easy, and I'll take de job. If you can pay me, dat is."

"Oh yeah? What's your price?" She asked.

"Depends on de haul."

Their unhurried back and forth pushed Kurt's confusion to critical mass. They knew each other, and something shady was going on between them, but he wasn't going to get any answers just now. Anna handled all the business on the ship and it was obvious that this was business of some kind. He brusquely handed her the rifle and walked over to the cupboard, fishing out a nutrient bar, then pulled a cup out to make coffee.

"So dat's your brother?"

She nodded.

"And he got a German accent and you got a' Alabama accent."

"Mississippi."

"Ah…Not too many with either o' those these days."

"Well…I generally don't take it out for show and tell."

"Heh…yea' you sound all polished up like a silver spoon…a pity…My guess is you gotta talk pretty for your boss or some t'ing?"

"Something' like that." His prescience annoyed her. "Look I'm not happy you broke into my ship but if we're going to work together then you would have to be here eventually anyways. I don't care how you got on because I assume that breaking into shit is just a thing you do. But I don't trust you farther than I can throw you so if you try anything I'll blow a hole right through you. Me or Kurt. Don't think you can get the drop on us."

Kurt nodded along unconsciously.

"What, you mean twice?" said the Cajun.

"If getting held up in a kitchen is your idea of getting a drop on someone." She had him but she felt self-conscious, like he saw right through her and knew how much posing and posturing she threw out hoping to look like a professional.

"I know what you think…" She said.

"Do you?"

"I know you think I'm stupid."

"Not stupid, chere."

"Naïve."

"Yes."

"Fine then…I'm not as naïve as you think."

"If you say so p'tit."

Her eyes narrowed. She was too tired to keep playing at semantics.

"We leave tomorrow…er…today...at 10ST. I'll explain the job when I see you next, but I'm going to sleep now." She walked away from him as she had done in the bar and she gambled in doing so. Perhaps it was her "naïveté" or perhaps it was her faith in Rita's recommendation but she would let him show himself out and pray that that was all he did.

He peered after her for a few moments and let out a long low whistle. Kurt cleared his throat and eyeballed him for a second before offering him coffee and dehydrated breakfast. He declined and graciously excused himself.

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