It took another full day before Pheist felt well enough to leave without risking passing out in the hallway. She dressed in her smartweave, which had been discarded in a corner when she'd been carried in, unconscious. Lola hadn't known anything regarding the whereabouts of her armor, so she assumed Riot had removed it on the shuttle, perhaps to save time. And honestly, it was just as well, because the effort it took simply to pull the smartweave on was enormous. There would be no way she would have been able to don her armor, nor carry it.

There were no Yautja in the corridors, and that made sense. Riot would have preferred to deliver her to a vacant area of the ship. He'd only ever brought her onto the more populated levels if there was no avoiding it; like to train in the kehrite, eat in the mess, or to have her breastplate repaired in the armory.

She located the lift and selected the floor which housed his quarters by hitting the symbol on the panel that he always did, and which she'd by now memorized. Walking was painful. Her ribs protested each stride, and she limped along on her tender bandaged foot, boots dangling from her cybernetic hand. The one was ruined and there'd been no point trying to squeeze the thick wrapping on her foot into it. Her injured arm she kept close to her abdomen to avoid accidentally bumping it off anything. As she'd already learned, despite the brace, that hurt like a bitch.

Outside his room, Pheist waved her boots in front of the panel, then wrapped her knuckles against it when nothing happened. She wasn't about to stand out there and shout for him to open up. If he wasn't inside, she'd feel like a knob. Instead she stepped back and hurled first one boot, then the second at the closed door.

Maybe he was sleeping and it would scare the shit out of him. Unlikely, but a girl could dream.

The door slid open. Riot practically filled the opening. He observed her in silence for a moment, which was just long enough to set her off.

"You left me," she spat, needing to speak the words even if she was also signing them. There was something far more cathartic about giving voice to the outrage in one's soul than making it known with hand gestures. "I hunted. I killed that thing. I proved myself. And you left me! I wasn't ready to die! I fought! I fought everything, all the predators, and I wanted to live!" By this time she was breathing hard and paying for each breath with agonizing stabs of pain.

Cocking his head, he attempted to work through her tirade, or more specifically through the jumble of hand signals she didn't feel had truly imparted what she wished to express.

She stepped in to thrust an accusatory finger into his broad chest. "I wanted to live. I wanted you to want me to live."

Riot's mandibles clicked as she signed this last bit.

Pheist repeated the gestures when he didn't respond, her hand cutting furiously through the air. Want you to want me to live.

He chuffed uncertainly and her hand balled, striking his chest with a loud thud.

"Say something!"

With a snarl he captured her arm before she could pull it back, signing with his free hand. Want you to live. Want to hunt with you. Many hunts. Give my blood to heal you. He yanked her into the room so the door could close, dragging her over to the bed. Sit. Still healing.

She wrenched her hand away when he released her, unpacified. Give blood and left. Never returned. Not one time.

Riot's growl was louder this time, indignation flaring his tusks. Give blood and stay. Many time. Wait. You heal slow. Wait many time. Human say you not die. I left.

Pheist felt the passion drain from her in a matter of seconds.

Lola. She'd told him to go. And had purposefully failed to mention he'd been there, waiting to ensure Pheist would be alright.

She sank down onto the furs, lightheaded.

Crouching before her, he regarded her with consideration. You hunt good. Slow. Wait. Listen. Search. You kill many prey. Never stop. Never yield. Always fight. For him, it was a veritable speech, and she couldn't have appreciated it more in that moment.

Thank you. She frowned and hesitated to share her fears with him. Thought you died in… rocks, she settled on, not knowing if it was the same sign for cave or tunnel.

He grunted and made what seemed to be the universal gesture for an explosion. Kill many small prey. Climb out, not find you. This seemed to trouble him, or so she read from the way his golden eyes travelled over her, taking in her visible injuries, and his shoulders seemed to hunch.

"You did find me…" Without thinking too much about it, she reached out to his face, which was for once nearly level with her own. Her fingertips skimmed up one lower mandible to his jaw and she watched as his tusks tucked together tightly.

Bowing his head, he brought it to rest lightly against her own in direct imitation of the previous time, when they'd both been wearing protective equipment.

It was difficult to hold eye contact at this proximity, especially when his seemed to be boring into her very core, but she sensed she needed to. That this was what he needed, that it was important not to look away or close her eyes. As much to distract herself as for any other reason, she slid her hand further back, into his mass of tubules and began gently kneading around their bases.

Riot's gaze went from vivid to blank in an instant. As she continued to work across his scalp, his lids fluttered in ecstasy and the expected purr erupted from his chest, rapidly intensifying in both volume and vibration.

Pheist was only sorry she had just the one hand to use. She wanted to feel him, really feel him - feel the reverberations rise up her arm through her fingers. But this was better than nothing.

His mandibles had loosened again in this catatonic state. No one - no human - would ever describe him or any other Yautja as beautiful. Fierce? Yes. Handsome? No. Striking? Yes. Virile? Yes. And there was something alluring about him as well. About his proud bearing, his sense of honour, his unfailing resolve. Something undeniably tempting about his noble head, keen eyes, broad and powerful shoulders. The robust chest where two strong hearts beat surely.

She stifled laughter as the pressure of his forehead against her own increased in response to her ministrations slowing when she became distracted. "You're kinda demanding for a guy who wouldn't let me touch you not long ago."

Startling her, he hooked an arm behind her legs as he half-rose from his crouch, the other circling her back to shift her further onto the bed. Her ribs didn't like it, but she bit back any sounds of distress as he stretched out on the pelts and stared up at her expectantly. He chuffed at her, encouraging her to lay down as well, and then repeated the sound when she didn't immediately grasp she was meant to return to massaging him.

"I stand by my statement," she murmured, not certain she was truly annoyed with him. Threading her fingers back into his mane, she couldn't help smiling when the rumbling resumed promptly.

Riot closed his eyes and his hand settled on her waist, his thumb and fingers curling around her hip, talons gently scraping the smartweave.

Content but mostly just plain worn out from her tantrum, Pheist shut her eyes as well, and even when her hand stilled as she drifted off, he continued to purr.