Despite her strong desire for safety and longevity, Pache had seemed to develop quite the nasty habit. Whenever she had a problem, she practically rushed full-steam-ahead to Frieza, bypassing all middlemen and throwing herself at him as if she contrarily had no sense of self-preservation. There was no doubt that it would garner negative attention -especially in such a highly competitive environment-, but when faced with the people she would feel more secure in good graces with, it would be Frieza, and luckily Zarbon had the patience for her as well.

In this particular instance, despite the fear traversing through every inch of her body and clearing a course for the encroaching adrenaline, Pache seemed to go making more trouble for herself.

The halls were barren, and the dead of night signaled the echoes of her own breath and footsteps in her ears. Despite not another soul walking the ship at this time, she couldn't stop the shift of her eyes wandering every corner and crevice and door as if searching for justification for her panic. Somewhere in her, she thought that maybe it would have been better if she did see something, or somebody. Perhaps then she wouldn't feel like she was on a downward spiral into madness.

Every now and then in the midst of waves of panic, she would note the change of the hallway in her view. It would twist and turn in bizarre shifts, similar to staring at a scene through the heat waves of a flame. She ignored the spike in her breath and blinked away the momentary distortions and dimming lights to race to the end -no matter how it appeared to grow further and further away with each step. She entered the lift to Frieza's chambers, and only in stillness could she manage to stabilize.

Her chest felt tight, and her airways were hoarse and narrow. Had she not pursued her safety so desperately, she suspected she would have likely passed out in the hallway, as the spots and fuzzy halos overlaying her vision continued to persist. She couldn't even decipher her own thoughts.

What did she intend to accomplish in going up to Frieza's chambers?

What did she seek from this?

These questions were lost on her hyperactive mind, and rising up from the platform to ascend to the chambers, they were set to spring on her all at once.

"Lord Frieza," she sputtered out, her fears smothered by desperation and her proper etiquette of addressing him seeming to just once again slip her mind. She didn't bow, not her head nor lowering to one knee. "I was in my room, a-and I-" She hadn't even done the most simplistic display of respect in waiting for him to address her and allow her to speak.

Fortunately, majority of her transgressions were done behind his back. He was facing with his chair directed to the room's large, angled panes of glass, and looked to be gazing out into the empty void of space, rather than directing his vision to her.

"We're becoming rather bold, aren't we?" he spoke with less energy than usual. His voice felt as if taunting her, dripping with the usual energy of the sadistic man he was, and with no conscious effort nor movement then managed to make the room feel as if it had dropped in temperature. All this without even allowing his piercing red orbs to take a gander back behind him.

Pache's hand fell into the palm of her other, subsequently gripping to steel herself in this moment of tension. She hadn't any further words to say, his own stunting her ability to utter anything save for the raggen hesitance of her breath seeping past her narrow fangs.

In the suspension of silence that trailed sentiment, the low glaze of his chuckle uplifted Pache's sunken heart.

For the moment, his dry remark had left her stiff and guarded. Despite being treated with favoritism, she rarely pushed any boundaries outside of that once back at the planet of her people. Otherwise, she kept within the realm of what was acceptable and expected, she followed his orders obediently without question, and she asserted herself with an untempered ferocity to ensure that she completed her missions successfully. As far as she was concerned, the thought of returning empty-handed and having failed was synonymous with coming home begging to be discarded. Pache hadn't any knowledge of what happened when she treaded the line of fire so closely.

That laugh, however, quiet and lacking in genuine, pronounced joy as it was, it broke the darkened tone. Even then, she waited in silence for him to speak again and offer up permission.

"What do you want from me?"

And there it was.

Pache's head tilted ever-so-slightly; it was unusual for him to not even turn in her direction, or anyone else's for matter of them potentially sharing some sort of news. Albeit, it was rare she ever came here during this time of night, but the way her mind and all of its racing thoughts began to crawl towards a manageable pace, the observation didn't go unnoticed.

"Lord Frieza..." she trailed, hushed voice still wavering with budding reservations, "... W-well, I was in my room, and I-..."

Her body chilled to halt.

Lowering her ringed eyes the palm she clutched left her with the view of little more than a white glove. Her tail bristled and the startled sound of a near-inaudible hiss rolled from her parted lips as she jerked down to get a view if the claw mark that had been on her abdomen. Her fingers tread across the surface of her peach skin, now dulling a pale citrus-orange: smooth and undisturbed.

Only now did Frieza take a moment to peer back over his shoulder. He had prompted her for an answer, and she had stopped so suddenly - it piqued his curiosity to say the least, but seeing as she was now caught in an unsteady silence, he watched -, how bizarre.

"My lord..." her voice fell meek. It eased out in a hush that cowered under her own breath. What would she do? What could she say? Somehow the fear that drove her hear was just that? Fear? Was she hallucinating the whole ordeal? The invading doubt cast a deep-seated anxiety upon her shoulders, her trembling now stemming from fear of something perhaps more terrifying than death; she was losing her mind. No blood, no wound, no scarf, the composition of her body was good at clearing these things away, but for it to be deep enough to draw blood and...

Her eyes glazed over an unemotional shade of their typical gold, only dimmer.

Physical attacks - those couldn't harm her, not unless it was a deliberate hit that kept her weakness in mind. For her to have awakened with claw-like scars and blood staining her that way... that wasn't possible. In place of her nerve-ridden limbs that tingled like something crawling beneath her skin, the heaviness of exhaustion set in after the weight of her panic subsided. All she could think in these seconds that dragged on like minutes was...

'I'm losing my mind...'

"I..." she hadn't an excuse, and not even the energy to make one up, "I think I... had a nightmare." Mortifying, it felt absolutely mortifying to admit simply that on the scale of things. Having rushed down the hall in a stupor and burst so shamelessly into his chambers that way, solely because she suffered from an unexpected nightmare, it was more befitting a child...

It didn't help that the tyrant practically broke into a cackle at the admittance. "A nightmare," he parroted back through sadistic amusement, practically wiping a tear from the outer corner of his eye, "ah... if you came to entertain me, you've succeeded."

She didn't answer, only came to stand at the spot she normally did during the day, when serving as one of his few right-hands. Her fingers were now clasped affront her, and her eyes stared aimlessly into the dark abyss of space. He she wished she could say that it was nothing more than a joke and save face, but she wasn't even sure she could assert that lie with enough gusto to sell it. "N...no, my lord..."

The way the corners of his darkened lips upturned and the way his eyes fixed skeptically did little to quell his previously swelled intrigue; the way she stood over in the corner, fidgeting under pressure and weaving from humiliation by averting her gaze could only prove to fan the flames of his personal brand of lightly darkened comedy. "You went through all the trouble of racing here at this hour of the night, simply because you found yourself spooked by a little night terror."

His tone was lithe with a condescending jest and yet, had Pache had the choice of her pride being toyed with so carelessly or returning to her bed to bask in the twisted sensations of the mind, she would pick this treatment anytime. Still, however, she couldn't find it in her to respond.

"Lord Frieza," she addressed now, not with any pleas for him to stop his antics, or defensiveness, but merely a curious stare that came from the corner of her eye, "Why is it... that you are awake?"

All at once, his smug disposition faded in favor of annoyance. His eyes narrowed, and his mouth pressed into a stern line. He turned back to face front, his cheek resting against the knuckles of his fist. "You assume I have to sleep as often as you lot."

The nature of his quick reply left Pache now turning to get a closer look at him. There appeared to be more on the tip of his tongue, struggling with the decision of whether or not to go on.

"My body is far more adjusted to these menial tasks, and I sleep when I please."

He had returned to staring out of the large windows across the front of the chamber. Each direction, from left, right and center, all gave way to the grand scape of the cosmos. It gave him a sense of pace, but simultaneously began to boil an unfounded rage under the surface.

"Do you not wish to sleep, my lord?" she asked this, and yet it was only to divert the attention away from her own motive for being here. Truly, should he sleep, she would be in her own isolation again, so maybe that was the last thing she wanted to encourage. Maybe should she have been lucky, his ego would have convinced him to rebel against the idea of sleep due to her questioning it, "or maybe it's unpleasant for you?"

He spied her wide-eyed curiosity, the only displeasure ringing from his uncertainty on whether or not she called herself 'playing' with him.

"You behave like a child," he merely remarked, evading every question she presented and leaving her somewhat deflated in the process.

Silence lingered on, both present figures doing little but watching the stars. It wasn't intimate or a feeling of closeness, it was hardly even an idle acknowledgement of leader and underling. The room felt more of two people existing in a place, being aware that another being was present but doing one's absolute best to ignore that obnoxiously grueling fact.

In that strange dynamic, Pache could feel herself swaddled with comfort. In most cases, next to Lord Frieza was probably the least comforting place to be unless there was a fight for one's life currently underway. In this particular case, she would have been tense and wracked with worry, afraid he would spontaneously find himself bored and decide to harm her for his own amusement. There was also the chance she was slip up her words or posture, do something to accidentally offend him, and be treated like the target for all of his frustrations. Right now, she merely felt like a was a superfluous piece to the chamber, like an accessory or decoration that had no special responsibility nor primary duties.

Her eyes began to lull, and her lids began to droop, the view of space becoming only accommodation to her dimming vision.

Perhaps she would even fall asleep standing, that was until the sound of Frieza's voice struck down her drowsiness.

"Tell me," he went on, his knuckle now brushed against the corner of his lip, "the destruction of that eyesore of a planet, Vegeta. It was truly a sight to behold, wasn't it?"

Sound staggered back to stillness.

In the momentary pause, lasting only a few seconds, Pache spoke up with a newly ignited enthusiasm, "Of course, my lord. It was like a show." Her brows knit and her head tipped - for a moment she thought she could hear the sound of doubt creeping beneath the surface of his tone. Was it that he searched for validation? It seemed like such an ordinary trait that it had appeared -among others- to feel impossible for Frieza to have. She hesitantly offered the inquiry of her own, "Do you doubt that it was?"

"Oh Heavens no," dismissively, he flicked his fingers in a 'shooing' motion, discrediting her assumption, "It was possibly my best work." He settled back in the hovering, chair-like unit, his arms around the sides comfortably, "Even if I could do better, it was at the very least fun. Something I've been wanting to do for quite some time now."

Her hand brushed down the length of her own forearm, and in some odd twist of fate, she found herself relaxed enough to pursue a bit further, "Has someone else doubted you, my lord?"

"You ask a vexing number of questions," he spoke up without pause.

It was acceptable. Pache had only imagined she would be able to advance a small distance with him, no matter how natural it began to feel. Her only positive note from that, however, was that despite her taking an extra step and testing his leniency, his comment was the only form of scolding or punishment she'd received.

Frieza on the other hand... he could acknowledge that his comment was not entirely true at its core. He didn't care about the numerous questions she asked. There was nothing to be done and nothing happening save for his mind dwelling in centric disdain. If she wanted to pick his mind and express her interest in him, he had little qualms. The problem was the contextual accuracy of said questions. They prodded too deep at a still open wound that toyed infuriatingly with his temper.

He sighed out in what could only be described as a dramatic huff of air, "Only my uptight brother, of course." He gestured a circular motion with his hand, a 'blah' motion of onrunning blandness, "Though it's only a byproduct of his nasty envy."

Seeing as he'd answered her question, Pache jolted ever-so-slightly, her attention immediately being drawn back to Frieza with a face of notable surprise. "My lord..?" she prompted softly in question.

"It isn't surprising, nor is it new," he leaned back, of course kicking some extra helpings of sludge over his brother's name to save face, "he's been jealous of my accomplishments practically all his life. I dare say I almost find it in myself to pity him." Yes, it did feel good trampling on his brother's reputation that way. It was the kind of thing he said to himself often, or maybe reared portions of to his sibling's face, but explaining the full of it was no less than a pick-me-up.

With just enough details to leave her out of the loop, the still somewhat stunned Pache furrowed her brow. She hadn't a clue whether she would be asking more questions, or adhering to his previous comment and only listening. Still, out of urging curiosity, she supplied another, "Do you not get along?"

Her shameless peek into his personal life loosed the rumbling chuckle in his chest. What a clueless fool, not even aware of her own cheekiness, "An impossible one to get along with, I would say. Maybe if he just didn't have such a loathsome personality."

It got worse than Frieza? In theory, she had assumed Frieza's level of horribleness, and given the events of the night, it didn't seem quite as awful as she had previous predicted. Still, imagining someone considered difficult to deal with even by Frieza's standards nearly caused the peach-skinned girl to shudder. Imagine if she had been picked up by that monster instead.

"Oh no..." She remarked so quietly, her gloved hands against her mouth, pondering this information.

"I imagine we won't be rid of him too long before he decides to show his face on my end of the universe," he begrudgingly acknowledged, though now with his opinion freed in this way, it hardly seemed as problematic as it did eventually. He was sure that he and his brother would never reconcile, nor did he exactly want to, but at least he wouldn't be stuck with the weight of aggravation freshly cultivated.

So maybe Pache's presence wasn't merely as a toy, the naivety she retained all coupled up with her uncivilized view on socialization made her an unexpectedly decent listener. At the very least, she wasn't prone to singing his praises to an offputtingly repetitive degree.

"I take it, you won't be sleeping, due to your little 'nightmare'."

His sudden assertion forced the tip of her tail to bristle once more, whipping sporadically behind her whilst her head turning to the window once more. "I can see myself out if that's what you'd like..." she spoke quietly, and her words sounded as if squeezing their way out through the window of a loose pout.

Primarily, she was most amusing as a toy.

"Do what you wish," he dismissed, sparing one more snicker at her expense.

A/N: The closest thing to bonding as we've had thus far. LOL. Lightening moods abound -hopefully-, and maybe we can squeeze in a bit more close bOnDiNg. We've got a couple more events to cover, then we'll be jumping into things slightly more associated with the canon timeline. So Weeeee!