Weiss sends a car to pick her up, just before the sun begins to set.
Even to her untrained eye it's obviously expensive. It sticks out like a sore thumb, sitting in a dusty parking lot that's almost more potholes then not, and Yang is horribly self-conscious of the stares it's drawing as she slides into the back seat. Thankfully the driver doesn't seem keen on sticking around either, pulling the steering wheel around and peeling out of the lot almost before the door closes behind her.
It's a shorter ride then she'd expected. It can't be more than a few miles, barely even ten minutes, before their pulling up outside of a Ritz hotel. The driver parks directly in front of the doors, before surprising her by turning around and holding the keys out towards her.
She accepts them a little hesitantly. Frankly, she's wary of just sitting in the car, much less actually being the one driving it.
The driver shares none of her concern- probably because he's not the one who'll get in trouble if she wrecks it- and immediately gets out as soon as the keys are in her hand. He walks off without a word, before promptly hopping into another car and driving away, leaving her alone.
She takes a few seconds to burn off some of her nervous energy as frustration, fuming silently in the back of the car. And then she exhales and steps out, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She'd meant to bring a purse, but hadn't realized until only a few hours ago that she apparently doesn't own one, so she'd had to settle on her old backpack instead. There are only two things in it, both of which filled her with very opposite, conflicted emotions, but thankfully neither would be needed where they were going tonight, so she can just ditch it at Weiss's room instead of lugging it around all night looking like some lost college student.
She still gets a look from the bellboy as he opens the door for her, and she resists the urge to flip him off on the way in.
Somehow, she's unsurprised to find that Weiss is staying on the very highest floor, so the ride up is plenty long enough to give her a few moments alone to breathe. In the elevator, Yang bounces on her toes, psyching herself up like it's the start of a match. In a way, it sort of is.
Just think of it as a job interview, she tells herself. One with a lot more flirting than would probably be acceptable anywhere else, and then ends with her fucking her boss. She'd be lying if she said she isn't interested, so she can't really complain. Physically, at least. Ethically, well. She'll just have to find out on the way. Or maybe just take the money and not blow the best deal she's ever going to get because of a moral crisis about something she has zero influence over. She's a bit rusty when it comes to the dating game, but it isn't like Weiss is playing hard to get. This whole thing is basically a layup, as long as she can keep her mouth shut for once in her goddamn life.
Her arm tingles at the thought, hanging heavily at her side. It's stupid. She'd never promised them anything. But she still feels like a fucking traitor just by being here.
She shoves it down, trying to bury it under her resolve. Not her business, she reminds herself. Not her problem. Not her fight.
Soon enough, she's knocking on Weiss's door, at almost exactly the designated time. Only seconds pass before the lock clicks and the knob begins to turn, and then the door is open and Weiss is standing in front of her.
Yang's first impression at laying eyes on her is 'dark'. She's surprised to see the woman wearing black. She can't remember her in anything but light colors in the tabloids, mostly white or blue. Maybe that's the point.
Her second impression is her mind emptying itself all over the floor.
Weiss is already looking unbearably smug before they've even laid eyes on each other, obviously knowing exactly what effect she would have, and Yang can't muster a retort, too caught up with staring at her to form words.
She's even smaller now, somehow, her dress clinging to her like oil, not so much covering as suggesting. It does absolutely nothing to hide her silhouette until it reaches her hips, where it spills out in a dark silky wave all the way down to her ankles. There's a slit up the side nearly to her hip, and her pale legs flash even when standing still, spotlight-white against an inky black curtain, and it almost seems like they'd draw less attention if they were bare.
Yang manages to keep her jaw from physically dropping, but she can't do anything about the way she feels her eyes begin bleeding to red. And judging by the way Weiss's smirk grows, she hasn't missed it either. Having a visible 'on' switch is really fucking inconvenient sometimes.
Still, she pulls herself together, forcing her muscles to relax despite the way they want to tighten. "So when you said 'formal'." She starts as a greeting, casual, though it's a little ruined by the tightness in her voice. "I guess you didn't mean a dress shirt and jeans, huh?"
Weiss takes one look at her and laughs, lifting a delicate wrist to cover the sound. Her lips are a glossy red that borders on pink, but still stand out like a knife slash across her face. She starts to say something, only to cut off and giggle again, turning slightly away. "Technically." She starts, voice still shaky with mirth. "I said 'brutish'. And you seem to have managed that perfectly."
Yang tears her gaze away for a brief second, glancing down at herself and spreading her arms out. "These are the nicest clothes I own."
The information doesn't do anything to lessen her amusement. If anything, it makes it worse.
Yang finds she can't quite manage to be irritated yet. She's only half listening, eyes still tracking across her. She can see a hint of the creases of her hips through her dress. Her eyes find the faint dip of her navel between them, and for a dizzying moment it's like her skin has been dyed black.
Part of her- a large part- wants to just shove the smaller woman back into the room and shut the door behind them. To bear her to the floor and sink her fingers into the front of that dress, before seeing exactly how hard it would be to get her out of it.
She shuts down that line of thought before her mind can run any further along it, shaking her head to clear it.
Weiss leans a shoulder against the doorframe, resting her temple against the wood, lips twitching as she watches her. "Patience, Yang." She reminds her, amused. Her eyes bore into her face, like she can see the thoughts going through Yang's head. "Remember what I said. The longer the buildup, the greater the climax."
She sounds so fucking satisfied about it. Yang pulls in a breath and consciously relaxes her shoulders. "Edging isn't really my thing, Princess."
Her face doesn't change at all, but somehow she still manages to make her smile sharpen. "No, I suppose it isn't." She murmurs, considering. "Something I'll have to teach you, it seems."
Godammit. Weiss is just taunting her now. As if she hadn't been already, from the very moment she'd shown up on Yang's doorstep, digging herself a home in the back of her mind and refusing to leave.
She clenches her eyes shut, blowing out through her nose. "If you want to make it to that date." Yang tells her lowly, opening her eyes to stare down at her intently. "Then you should stop now."
She feels the way Weiss's pulse quickens, the words hanging in the air long after the last of the sound fades. She's still leaning against the doorframe, but there's nothing relaxed about her now, fingers tightening around the wood enough to whiten, body still. She's silent as she looks up at her, and there's a dark curiosity in her gaze, wondering if she can get away with one more push, one more poke.
Yang holds her eyes, half hoping she'll do it. She isn't bluffing in the slightest.
Finally, Weiss pushes off the wall, straightening. She sighs, brushing a hand over her head, down the long length of her hair. It's pulled over her shoulder with a small flick, white strands dragging across black silk, and they stand out like threads of light against a pure night sky. "Later." She says quietly. And then looks up at Yang again, smirk returning. "We can keep dinner short, I suppose."
Something that's not quite disappointment settles in her stomach, like an opportunity missed. Yang lets out a noncommittal hum that's closer to a grunt and shifts back on her heels, giving them both a bit of room to breathe.
Popping her neck once, she unslings her bag and unzips it. The contract is inside, signed and stapled, and she pulls it out, extending it towards her. Her hand brushes against the other thing in the bag, and she almost grabs that instead, but squelches the urge.
"Here." She'd made herself stay up half the night reading it, and hadn't found a single thing that she could reasonably complain about. And even if she'd missed something, it was made very clear that she could shut the whole thing down instantly if she wanted to. It seemed stupid to keep dragging her feet over it. "Figured I'd get this out of the way." She explains, a little unnecessarily, rolling a shoulder in a shrug.
Weiss blinks, looking surprised as she accepts it. Her eyes run down it once, and she lifts a page, checking underneath before letting it drop. "Thank you." She says, mercifully keeping any comments to a minimum. "I wasn't sure you would be willing sign it. I'll have it filed later this week." Her eyes fall onto the backpack hanging from her hand, and her expression turns rueful. "But please, Yang, leave that here. Even I can only get away with so much."
Yang makes a noise of protest, just to see what her reaction will be. "Do I have to? I just really think it goes with my outfit." She says, sweeping a hand down to gesture at herself, easily falling back into her usual routine. If Weiss isn't going to be walking around with a stick up her ass all night, Yang doesn't intend to either. This whole thing might revolve around a paycheck, but the least she can do is try to show her a good time. Hell, at the rate things are going it might not even be hard. Yang is doing her best to keep an open mind and withhold judgment, at least until they actually get to know each other.
Weiss merely rolls her eyes as she turns away, not buying it for a second. "You're a little old for the school girl look, Yang." She pauses to toss a grin at her over her shoulder. "Though if you want to play dress up, I happen to have several suits that I suspect will fit you perfectly."
Yang's eyes dip before she can help it, catching on the curl of her hips as she leans out of sight, towards what is presumably a table, placing the papers on top of it. That dress really does stick to her like liquid. "Hm. Maybe later. As long as you're willing to play too."
Weiss breathes out a startled little laugh. "Not those kinds of suits, Yang." She grins up at her as she returns. "Though, I suppose I could arrange for that if it's what you're interested in."
She steps out, coming to a stop in the hall beside Yang. "But first." She gestures back towards the room. "Your bag. And then dinner. We can continue this intriguing conversation another time."
Without bothering to look, Yang tosses her bag carelessly inside the door before pulling it shut, and Weiss restricts herself to an eye roll. She holds out an arm, and Yang doesn't hesitate to link it with her own, just for an excuse to touch her. Her skin is cool, and softer than it has any right to be; she must be using some kind of product to make it smooth, though she can't sense any trace of it beneath her fingers. This close her hair smells like lavender, and beneath it is another, heavier scent that she doesn't quite recognize but draws her in deeper all the same.
The only other times they'd touched were the soft brush of Weiss's hand against her cheek. The smaller woman has been keeping her distance, circling in a way that is more predatory than cautious, waiting for her to weaken.
It's impossible to ignore. The little smirk that makes it clear she knows exactly what she's doing. How the black highlights the white of her skin, the way it clings to her sides, sways around her legs as she walks, the teasing hint of flesh hidden beneath with every step. All of it drags Yang's attention to her like Weiss has it tied on a string, constantly pulling her gaze back towards her, capturing her without ever needing to try. She nearly misses the elevator when it comes, only a small tug on her arm making her look up and realize the doors had opened.
It's not until they're getting into the car that she finally manages to tear herself away. She drops herself into the driver's seat and fits the key into the ignition, determinedly looking out the windshield and not at the woman sitting next to her. Settling her hands on the steering wheel, she blows out a breath, feeling the smooth leather creaking beneath her fingers.
"So where are we going, anyway?" She asks, risking a glance. Weiss isn't looking at her, more preoccupied with poking at the dashboard.
"I'd tell you the name, but I'm absolutely certain it wouldn't mean anything to you." Apparently not too preoccupied to toss another taunt her way, though. She taps at the screen a few more times before sitting back. "It's on the GPS. Just follow the instructions. You seem to be good at that, so far." She adds, teasing, and Yang sets the car into gear, looking away before their eyes can meet again.
The ride is mostly silent, with only the occasional comment or bit of small talk to fill the time. Weiss seems content to let the quiet settle, occupying herself with gazing out the window as they drive. Her little smile doesn't disappear, but it settles, becomes passive as she waits.
According to the GPS, the place they are going is only twenty-five minutes away, but the sun continues to set during that time, and before long the road is lit more by streetlights and head lamps than the sun. The interior of the car is all dark colors that blend with the black of Weiss's dress, and in the quickly falling dark her pale skin glows like the reflective tape on the signs they pass, designed to draw the eye.
The slit in her dress gapes like a fresh wound in Yang's peripherals, and her eyes ache from how hard she stares ahead. The drive is a haze of blending impressions, of slowly deepening shadows stretching out across the car and the flash of passing lights on pale skin, of her fingers gripping the wheel and the glare of taillights stinging her eyes, of the faint scent of lavender drifting through the car, and the gradually building smolder of tension pulling her spine towards her chest.
Eyes are on them from the moment they step out into the curb, and Yang can honestly say she doesn't blame them. She doesn't need prompting to walk around to the passenger side and open the door for her. Weiss pours herself out of the car, slinking to her feet like a ribbon unfurling in the wind, liquid and boneless. The sun has only just set, caught in the final twilight before true night, and in the distant lights coming from the entrance her dress looks more shadow than fabric, blending into the dark as it swirls around her, as if you might just be able to see past it if you only look hard enough. Yang has to physically press the keys into the valet's limp hand before he takes them, and he jumps in surprise, seemingly only just remembering that he has a job.
She takes Weiss's arm again the moment they're together. Her fingers curl without input, wrapping themselves around her wrist, squeezing tighter than they should, testing the shape of the bones hidden beneath.
The restaurant they're at is one of those absurdly fancy places that's priced specifically to prevent anyone who doesn't make a minimum of six figures a year from getting in. She's absolutely certain that there's a dress code that she doesn't meet, but no one tries to stop them from entering, the receptionist only holding the door open with a polite bow and a murmur of 'Ms. Schnee.'
Inside is warm and well-lit, filled with the murmur of distant conversations and the quiet notes of instrumental music that she doesn't recognize. Weiss moves further in, and Yang lets herself be guided by the gentle pull on her arm, until they're seating themselves at a table.
A waiter is already there with notepad in hand, asking if they would like to order the moment they settle into their seats. Without looking, Yang orders a water and a medium steak, waiving her way through their other questions without much care. Weiss takes a little longer, and actually bothers to open the menu and look at it. Her hair falls across her shoulder, and she pulls it around to settle in her lap, absently stroking a hand through it while she reads.
Yang is aware, distantly, of the fact that she hasn't taken her eyes off the smaller woman since they'd gotten out of the car. She makes herself turn away, looking out at the rest of the room.
Eventually, Weiss finishes her order and Yang turns back as the waiter collects their menus and leaves. Weiss is watching her from across the table, her little smile still in place, like everything Yang does amuses her.
"That was very rude, Yang." She chides, though her tone would suggest that it is more of idle observation than admonishment. "You didn't even look at our server when she spoke to you."
Yang leans back in her chair. "Sorry." She says, shrugging a shoulder, because she can't exactly argue. The tables are spaced out generously, and even while speaking normally neighboring conversations are reduced to nothing but a low murmur. "Didn't mean to. I have to dust off my old book on savoir vivre."
Weiss only looks more amused. "Only if you want to." She tells her, flicking a hand off to the side dismissively. "I didn't buy you to teach you manners, Yang."
Yang bristles instantly, irritation flaring. She's almost relieved at the barb, thankful to have anything else to focus on. "You didn't buy me, Schnee." She snaps.
The woman is unfazed, not even blinking at her tone. "Haven't I?" She hums, resting her chin lightly on her knuckles. "Are you unhappy with the amount of money I'm paying? Would you like fifteen thousand a month? Twenty? Twenty-five?"
Yang hesitates. It's a mistake, one she realizes a second too late. Weiss's smile grows, lips curling up knowingly. "I'll update the contract, if you like. Or are you willing to simply trust that I'll keep my word?"
Blue eyes meet her own levelly across the table, watching her quietly, and Yang can't look away. Her jaw clenches, and she swallows hard, feeling the tendons in her neck flex from the force of the motion.
"So is that what this is?" Yang demands, the heat gnawing around her stomach making her reckless. "You're just going to fuck me for a while and then run off when you're bored?"
"Perhaps." Weiss quips easily. "You'll just have to try to hold my interest."
Yang holds back a growl and tears her gaze away, glaring down at her clenched fists on the table. She tries not to see the satisfaction on the other woman's face, impotent frustration clawing at her chest.
After a moment though Weiss sighs, letting her arm drop. "I told you before that I don't have an end date in mind, Yang. I doubt very much that I could grow bored of you any time soon." She says, and the teasing note has drained out of her voice. "There's no need to be so worked up over it. We don't have to go through with this tonight, if it bothers you so much."
Yang blows out a burst of air, consciously relaxing her hands. The sex isn't the problem. If she's honest, it had stopped being a problem the second she'd opened the door and seen her in that dress. If she's being really honest, it had probably stopped even before then. She just hates this whole situation. Hates the way the smaller woman keeps making her feel like an idiot no matter what she does, leading her along by the nose like she's waiving a red flag in front of a bull. Hates that she doesn't know where the other woman stands, doesn't know what rumors can be believed and which ones are nothing but hot air designed to inflate her image.
At least Weiss is using her own personal money, rather than funds from her family's company. They are well and truly separated, it seems. That was one of the few things Yang's research had been able to confirm about her last night, and she'd been relieved to see it. She almost thinks she might rather starve than take the SDC's blood money.
Flexing her fingers on the tablecloth, she rolls her neck, trying to ease the tension between her shoulders. She's wound up too tight, ready to burst, in one direction or the other. She blinks deliberately, focusing on her breathing and trying to center herself again. She can feel Weiss continue to watch her, the same way she has from the start. Almost like she's waiting for something, and it makes the back of her neck itch.
"Sorry." Yang says finally, not looking up from the table. "It's just been a rough couple of weeks." A rough couple of years, really. A rough couple everything, ever since it all had gone so wrong so fast. Weiss is rubbing at old wounds here, ones that had never quite managed to heal.
Thankfully, Weiss doesn't seem interested in pushing the issue, only angling her head and accepting the explanation easily.
Silence starts to fall between them, already on the verge of being awkward, but their food arrives before it can finish settling. Yang half wonders if they'd given her someone else's steak, for it to be done so fast. It can't have been ten minutes.
Inside, bathed in the bright lights and with the table between them, it's easier to push past the way her eyes want to focus on Weiss, even when turned elsewhere. Yang tucks into her food, grabbing one of the three forks lined up beside her at random. Once again, Weiss seems to find this incredibly entertaining.
For a while, they keep to themselves, staying on their respective halves of the table. Soon enough, though, awkwardness begins coloring in the silence again, and she casts around for something harmless to fill it.
Yang can feel the eyes on her from all over the room, and she shifts in her seat. She isn't self-conscious, exactly- there's a sum total of one person in this building whose opinion she gives the slightest fuck about- but she does feel out of place.
She resolves to ignore it, bending over her plate. "I don't think they like me here." She tells Weiss idly, poking at her steak.
She's surprised when she suddenly laughs, like she had just told the funniest joke in the world. "Oh, they love you here." Weiss says, holding a knuckle to her mouth, lips twitching wildly.
Yang sets down her hands, looking at her skeptically, and she adds, "Oh, they think you're a dog, of course. I'm sure they're fantasizing right now about what you are. A soldier? A criminal? A farmer, living off in the country, who carries the cows in on her shoulder when they won't come themselves, beating away wolves with a stick?"
She giggles again at the sheer absurdity of it and raises her head, looking up at her with blue eyes. "I know these women. Or their type, at least, all their faces blended together years ago. You're the fox in the chicken coop, Yang. You could have any woman in this room in minutes if you wanted to."
Yang blinks, and then glances around. She hadn't bothered looking too closely before, but now she pays attention.
There's an older woman sitting at another table that had been shooting glances her way since they'd sat down. The next time she looks their eyes meet, and she sees the way she pauses, seeming startled at being caught. There's a long moment where nothing happens, the two of them continuing to stare at each other, before the woman visibly huffs and turns away, facing her partner again. Before she does, though, Yang catches the way her eyes slide across her, lingering just a fraction of a second longer than they should.
She looks around more, and gets a similar reaction from several other tables. "…Huh." She blinks again, slower, not sure if she should feel flattered or offended. "Guess I should have come here sooner."
"I told you." Weiss says, the words filled with satisfaction.
Yang's eyes narrow just slightly, maybe a little annoyed by her tone. "And what makes you any different from them?" She challenges.
Weiss's grin solidifies, indolence shrinking as heat stirs behind her eyes. "I don't have to fantasize." She tells her lowly. "I do have you, but none of them ever will."
Yang's breath slides over her tongue as she exhales, eyes narrowing further even as she feels the red in them burn hotter. Fuck this little woman. Weiss keeps winding her up like she knows exactly what she is doing, and meanwhile Yang doesn't have a clue. Her hands twitch around her utensils, aching to wrap around her, and she honestly doesn't know if it's to strangle Weiss or fuck her into the table until it breaks beneath her.
Weiss matches her stare for a few seconds, smile dark and goading, before looking away, going back to her food. Yang doesn't follow, continuing to watch as she begins cutting the fish on her plate into a carefully measured slice, opening her mouth and placing it on her tongue.
It's the proportions, Yang thinks, letting her eyes drift over her. Weiss doesn't have curves, no. She's all angles, all sharp lines, from the slopes of her cheeks to the dip of her collarbones, all the way down the length of her legs and the shapes of her feet that she can see in those open-top heels she's wearing. Nothing soft, nothing vulgar. 'Elegant' is the word she's looking for, she realizes. Like her outline had been laser etched with machine precision. There's not a flaw to her, beauty compacted down to its most refined form.
It takes confidence to pull off. Most women would probably be too self-conscious of what they lack, but Weiss knows exactly what she has and how to turn it lethal. The sheer arrogance contained in the smaller woman's every move is breathtaking, and Yang can't help but admire it, as much as it also makes her want to break something when it's directed at her.
Gradually, the tension bleeds out of the silence surrounding them, slowly at first, and then faster. Yang lets it. Her food is getting cold by now, and she goes back to it, not speaking up. She'd carried the conversation enough times already. It's time for Weiss to have a turn.
She's rewarded a minute later when Weiss sits back. There's a small stain in the corner of her mouth from her last bite, a sauce that dyes her lips a bloody red. She flicks it away with a thumb. Somehow, on her, the motion looks refined rather than messy.
She seems to hesitate for a few moments, eyes hanging somewhere near the center of the table before rising to meet her own.
"There is something I would like to ask of you." She initiates bluntly. "It will likely upset you, and I want you to know you don't need to comply if you don't want to. But if you do, I'll give you a favor in return."
One of Yang's eyebrows twitches up. "So, we're exchanging favors now?" She asks, a little wary, but mostly curious. What could it be to have even this woman walking on egg shells?
"Just this once." Weiss answers easily. But Yang is starting to get the hang of reading the different shapes of her little smiles, and this one seems more polite than anything.
"Hmm." Yang taps her fork against her plate consideringly. Her lips pull up. "Anything I want?"
Weiss's expression melts into exasperation. "Within reason, you brute. An equivalent exchange."
Yang takes the time to think about it. The little woman can be at turns both incredibly blunt and incredibly vague. If she's being this serious about this, whatever it is, it's probably not something simple.
She's wary, but she really has no idea what Weiss could want from her. And if it turns out she wants, like, her kidney or something, she could always just say no.
There is, however, something Yang does wants from her. "I want to ask you a question. If I do what you want, you have to answer it honestly. Deal?"
If anything, Weiss's look grows more exasperated. "Within reason." She repeats. "But yes. That sounds fine."
Yang chews as she turns it over a few more times, but in the end she just shrugs her assent. "Sure. Shoot."
"Your arm." Weiss says, and Yang freezes. "May I see it?"
Slowly, Yang straightens. She finishes chewing and swallows, before lifting her napkin, wiping at her lips.
Weiss doesn't rush her, only waiting silently, until finally Yang sits back, watching her in return. "That's a hell of a segway." She remarks, eyeing her carefully.
Weiss acknowledges that with a dip of her head that isn't quite deferential, but is still closer to it than anything else has been so far. "I'm sorry." She says, and actually sounds like she means it. "But I doubt there was ever going to be a good way to bring this up."
Yang has to wonder why she's brought it up at all. There doesn't seem to be any reason to. She nearly refuses outright. The other woman has no business asking for something like this.
She controls the impulse, examining her across the table. Weiss seems serious. Not a whim, then.
She doesn't have any reason to say yes, and dozens to say no. But then, maybe, Yang is curious, too.
Finally, Yang straightens, setting her silverware down. Reaching up, she tugs off the glove covering her right hand. The metal is old, the paint fading, but it still catches the bright lights spread out above them, gleaming a soft yellow. Angling herself slightly to the side, she leans forwards, extending it across the table.
Weiss's fingers brush over the metal, resting lightly on her wrist. She prods at the joints, and watches when Yang flexes her hand, seeing the way it moves. "This is a high-end prosthetic." She observes, faint surprise coloring her tone. "I hadn't thought you would be able to afford something like this."
Yang watches her carefully, holding herself still. "I didn't. The Belladonna's paid for it, since it was one of their men that did it."
"Ah. That would explain it." Releasing her hold, Weiss leans back, eyes still lingering. "And are you satisfied with it?"
That, at last, manages to jar Yang into moving. Her head cocks to the side. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"I'm well aware of the large gap in quality between certain prosthetic limbs." Weiss explains. "I dislike the idea of you struggling to turn a handle or pick up a spoon. Someone like you shouldn't need to worry about such things."
"So you'd just buy me a new one?" Yang asks, skeptical. "Even for you, that's a bit of an investment just to butter me up."
But Weiss shakes her head, still serious. "This isn't a bribe, Yang. I was being genuine. What happened to you is awful, and you shouldn't suffer for it." Then her face shifts, turning lighter. "Also, I suspect you're underestimating just how much money I actually have."
She just can't pin this girl down. One minute she's stringing her along constantly, acting exactly the way Yang had expected, and the next she's saying things like this. It grates on her, keeping her off balance, not knowing what will come next.
"Thanks." She says eventually, pulling herself back to her side of the table and straightening. "But I'm fine with this one. It was a gift, anyways." It might have its quirks, but she isn't going to toss away something given to her by the Belladonna's so easily. Especially for something given by a Schnee. Even a denounced one. That just feels like spitting in their face. Shaking out her glove, she pulls it back on, feeling the other woman's eyes following her as she does.
"Of course. The offer is open, should you decide you want it in the future."
"I'll let you know if I change my mind."
Weiss tilts her head, recognizing the finality in her voice, accepting it easily. The lights catch on her hair as she does, filling it with a gentle shine, and she really is just too perfect. It feels more like she's sitting across from a sculpture than an actual person, or a model in a tabloid, after dozens of shots and filters and poses are used to get them to look just so. The woman belongs here, in the bright lights and fine stone walls, blending into the room like it had been built with her as the center.
Weiss doesn't straighten, considering she'd never slouched in the first place, but she sits back and lifts her silverware again, letting the discussion end. "And you? What was your question?" She asks, moving on.
Yang is silent, watching her. She had, in fact, googled the Schnee, though without much success. The problem with trying to find out anything about someone famous, Yang had found, is that no one fucking talks about them.
Oh, they talk plenty about the things surrounding them. The parties they go to, the fundraisers, the houses they own. Their products, speeches, charities, carefully crafted political opinions. An endless cloud of superfluous bullshit that in the end leaves a gaping hollow right in the center of it all. After nearly on hour of searching, Yang still couldn't even say what Weiss's favorite color is.
So, there's a lot of things Yang would like to ask her. Right now, though, there's really only one thing that matters to her.
She stays silent for a moment, looking down at her hands, idly pressing a metal thumb against the metal tines of her fork, dragging it along them just to feel the way the sensors buzz. And then blows a puff of air out of her nose and raises her eyes.
"Is it true that your dad kicked you out because you supported the faunus?" She asks bluntly.
Weiss stops. Her knife hovers over her plate halfway through being lowered, and she stays motionless, staring down at it for a good three seconds. Yang watches, and the mean, petty part of her feels just a little satisfied at finally catching the woman off guard.
Finally, Weiss shifts, lifting her head to watch her carefully across the table. It's the only part of her that moves. Yang meets her eyes without flinching, and she watches as they narrow slightly before she slowly sits back. "Well. You never were one to pull your punches, I suppose."
Yang tips her head in acknowledgement, but doesn't back down. "Wasn't ever going to be a good way to bring it up." She parrots. Fair's fair, after all. "You going to answer?"
"No." Weiss says. And then, at her raised eyebrow, she elaborates. "No, that isn't the reason. Not really."
Yang leans back against her chair and settles her forearms on the edge of the table, something like disappointment sitting in her stomach. "So it really was just more PR bullshit, then." Figures. She supposes it's too much to hope that the daughter of a guy like Jacques Schnee might turn out to be a decent person.
Weiss blinks, seeming briefly taken aback before her features settle in understanding. "Ah. That's why you're angry with me."
There's something strange in her tone, but Yang doesn't bother to dissect it. She tips her hand towards her, idly curious. "So what was it, then?" It's too direct, too aggressive, but right now she doesn't really care. "If it wasn't standing up against exploiting the weak and helpless?"
"I called him an idiot and a coward in front of the entire company board."
Yang pulls up short, startled. "What?"
Weiss's eyes glint with satisfaction, though the rest of her face stays carefully blank. "I was making a case to the board. Of which he is, obviously, a part of. I pointed out that public opinion had been steadily turning against the company due to its treatment of its faunus workers, so I was presenting a list of possible reforms that would help to set it in a more positive light."
Yang tightens her grip on her fork, feeling her anger rise. "What- seriously? That's it? Your reason for finally wanting to treat them like people was just that it wasn't profitable anymore?"
"That is the reason I gave the board, yes." Weiss says evenly, tone dangerously cool.
Yang ignores it. "So money was the only reason you cared?" She demands, disbelieving. "They were just a resource to you, and only after they started hitting your bottom line did you finally decide to do the bare fucking minimum-"
"I care because it is an outdated, inhumane, and pointlessly cruel system that is maintained on nothing but selfishness and spite." Weiss slices in, voice cold enough to burn, and Yang's teeth click shut, startled. Weiss's hands press flat against the table until her knuckles whiten, and she tilts her head back to look down her nose at her, lips twisting up with scorn. "It's capitalism, Yang. No corporation will ever give up a profitable business for something as petty as the common good. Money, as you pointed out, is the only thing that will ever motivate them. So yes. That was my stance when I presented my list of reforms to the company board. And my father vetoed it before I ever even had the chance to finish speaking. That is why I called him an idiot and a coward."
Ringing silence follows her outburst. Yang stares, feeling her anger drain away, and its wake slowly leaves her abashed.
She drops her eyes, breaking their gaze. "Sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."
Weiss blinks, seeming taken aback by her easy concession. Then she sighs, tension leaving her as she exhales slowly, mirroring her and dropping her eyes. "Don't be." She says softly. "I told you to ask me anything. I would have been disappointed if you didn't bring it up, truthfully. Especially given your ties to Menagerie." She twitches her fingers towards Yang's arm. "You don't shy away from speaking your mind, and don't tolerate injustices for your own gain. I can't be angry for that. I don't think I would be able to bear it if you were like the others."
Fuck. Yang grimaces down at her plate. Way to twist the knife. And she wasn't even trying to, which just made it worse.
She's still squeezing her fork in her right hand, and she consciously unclenches it, letting it fall. It lands on the table with a dull clatter, and the handle is warped, the shapes of her fingers imbedded into the metal. She pokes at it for a bit, wondering if she can bend it back, but knows already that it's pointless.
There's a long sigh from across the table. "Brute." Weiss says admonishingly, sounding exasperated. "You do understand that this is real silver?"
"I'm sure you'll find some way to pay for it." Yang grumbles without much bite, reaching for one of the other half dozen forks on the table and jabbing at her food. It isn't really a joke, but Weiss seems to find it amusing anyways.
"Still." Yang says eventually, after a minute or so of silent eating, when the air finally settled around them again. "I'm sorry. It must have been hard."
But Weiss immediately shakes her head. "No." At Yang's surprised look she elaborates. "Oh, it was quite shocking, at first. But after a few weeks... honestly, it was a relief. My family's company is horrendously corrupt. It would have taken decades to even begin unraveling it all, and as the heiress it would have been my duty to fix. And I was prepared for it. I would have dedicated the rest of my life to it, if that was what it took. It would have been hard- miserable, even, and I would have hated every second of it, but I would have done it."
She shrugs one delicate shoulder, looking down at her hand as she rolls her fork between long fingers. "But then I wasn't the heiress anymore. I wasn't part of the company at all. I wasn't even a Schnee, really, not anymore." Raising her head, she meets Yang's stare, lips curving in a smile that never reaches her eyes. "Quite a neat excuse, yes? The perfect way to justify avoiding my responsibility and simply walking away from it all. My company stays corrupt, millions of lives continue to be ruined, but I get to be free."
Yang sits up, brow furrowing. "That isn't your fault, Weiss." She tells her. And, suddenly, wonders if anyone else ever had. "You don't control him. You aren't responsible for the SDC."
Weiss only shakes her head, unmoved. "That doesn't matter. It's not the point. After he threw me out… I didn't even try. I'm still not trying. I have my own money." She raises a finger outward, gesturing to the room at large. "My own investments. I still have influence, and my name alone carries weight. I could have done more. Spoken out, provided funding, levered for changes. Instead, I've spent the last year sipping wine in luxury suites, completely ignoring the rest of the world. I tell myself that it's only temporary, that I'll begin trying again tomorrow, but." She shrugs. "After the hundredth tomorrow, the excuse begins to wear thin."
Yang stares, before closing her mouth and swallowing. "You aren't- you're allowed to take a break, Weiss. Your dad disowned you. He literally exiled you from Atlas. Fuck, he basically excommunicated you. You lost your entire life. It's only been months. You can't just expect yourself to walk away from that like it's nothing."
Weiss seems surprised at her response. She takes a breath, and her smiles eases into something more genuine, less bitter. Still far from happy, though, and she doesn't quite meet her eyes when she speaks. "You're kind. I'm glad. I'd always hoped you would be."
Yang feels a flash of annoyance and shakes her head stubbornly, leaning forwards, trying to get her to understand. "Listen. It's not- I get it." Her left hand rises, gripping her wrist, feeling the hard metal ridges catching against her fingers through her sleeve. She doesn't want Weiss to think this is nothing but pity. "When I lost my arm, it felt like I lost everything. And I know it's not the same as losing your family, but fighting was the only thing I've ever wanted to do. It's the only thing I ever planned to do. I thought I'd do it forever. And then, right as I finally started climbing the ranks, it was just gone."
Weiss is watching her, eyes slightly wide. Yang swallows, self-consciousness gnawing at her chest, but she keeps talking, barreling onwards before she can falter. "I was a wreck. I still am, honestly. I've barely worked in months. I can't keep a job, because I just can't stand the thought of doing anything else. I've been living off my winnings ever since, and then loans after those were gone. When it first happened, I basically sat on my ass for a year and felt like shit, just watching my money run out. I lost all my friends, I stopped working out. I gained fifty pounds."
Weiss snorts suddenly, slapping a hand over her mouth to cover the sound. She looks up at her with wide eyes over her fingers. "I'm- I'm sorry?" She asks, voice shaking with suppressed laughter. "You gained fifty pounds?"
Yang grins, relieved that the heavy air has eased. She plants an elbow on the table, leaning in like she's telling a secret, and the other woman unconsciously mirrors her. "I had a beer gut."
Weiss falls back, bright peals of laughter leaving her lips. She covers her mouth with both hands to try to muffle them, but the sound rings out anyways, making heads turn towards them. Yang ignores them, not giving a damn, because this is the first time she's heard the smaller woman laugh. Not breathy little giggles or quiet chuckles, but true, uncontrollable laughter, her whole form shaking with it. She seems almost shocked by her own reaction, struggling to contain it, but it keeps bursting free, until she's panting and wiping tears from her eyes.
"Oh- oh! A chubby Yang Xiao-Long." She gasps. "Oh, I would have been heartbroken."
"Yeah. It was pretty bad." Yang sits back, running a hand through her hair ruefully. "For a while, at least. I snapped out of it once I realized I was up to an extra, extra large waist size." Weiss makes another strangled noise, and she grins wider. "Started working out again, got back into training. Still not where I was before, but." She shrugs. There's just not that much reason to put the same effort in that she had before, not when she knows there's no chance she'll ever go pro again.
Gradually, Weiss's mirth dies down. It starts with just her laughter slowing, but then her grin begins to slip, falling away in increments. Finally, she sighs. "I'm sorry it happened." Weiss tells her lowly, laying herself back against her seat and stretching her legs out in front of her, propping an elbow on the arm. It's the same lazy kind of movement as before, but to Yang's eyes it's… heavier, now, the careless layer of it falling away. This time, she just looks tired. "Truly. I understand what it is like, to have the thing you've built your entire life around be ripped away from you. But, for me-" She pauses and exhales, looking down at the table. "Losing my family... It wasn't what you're thinking. I wish it was different, but truthfully, I had already lost them a long time ago. My sister is the only one I still spoke to, even before, and she left for the military when I was still a child. Sometimes, I wonder if that's the reason I never stopped loving her."
Yang watches, voice stuck in her throat. Weiss stops to collect herself, shaking her head. "The truth is..." She exhales, staring at her plate, taking a breath. "The truth is, I hate my father."
She doesn't sound like she hates him, Yang thinks in the quiet that follows. She sounds like she misses him.
"It's not so much what he's done." Weiss admits, so quiet it's almost a whisper. "It's just… he never gave me a reason not to hate him."
It dawns on her suddenly as she sees her knuckles whiten around her knife and her jaw tighten, understanding hitting Yang all at once. The oddly detached way Weiss behaves, the disinterested look in her eyes, the careless drawl to her voice that had gotten so far under her skin before, like she's just repeating lines long rehearsed. 'Soulless', she'd called it, she remembers. But it isn't. It's sadness. It's simple pain, and it had eaten at Yang to look at it, because no one is supposed to wear their heartbreak that way. Weiss doesn't try to hide her scars. She drapes herself in them like jewelry, beautiful like broken glass, just daring anyone to try to touch her without being cut.
"I understand why you were angry with me. Better than anyone. My father is not a kind man." Weiss's hand seems to rise on its own, brushing over her cheek, and her fingers just graze the bottom of the scar bisecting her eye. She notices when Yang's gaze catches on it, and she smiles, lips curving up without joy. "Surely you wondered, when it first happened? How the daughter of the richest man in the world was nearly blinded before her fifteenth birthday?"
Yang swallows. She can't look away, her eyes running over that thin white line, throat tightening. She can't remember ever seeing her without it, Yang realizes. It's like her white hair, or blue eyes, or that little quirk of her lips that never quite fades. Just another part of her. She'd never even thought about it. "I wasn't- I didn't notice. I don't follow celebrities." It feels weak, like she's making an excuse, but Weiss throws her head back with a laugh.
"How rude!" She lowers her head again, and her eyes are shining with amusement, smile relaxing into something softer. "Are you telling me you don't care what sort of nail polish I wore to a gala two months ago? You really are a brute."
She grins easily at her across the table, like it's just that simple to move on from what they'd been talking about. Like it's just a game, because none of it matters at all, because no one had ever cared about it to begin with.
She is hollow, Yang realizes, but not in the way she'd thought. It's apathy turned inwards, not out. There's a hole straight through her chest and Weiss doesn't even try to cover it, just lets the blood pour down carelessly, as if it's been there so long she'd forgotten what it's like to even notice. Yang wonders how she hadn't seen it the moment she'd opened her door and laid eyes on her.
Yang has to look away from it, turning to stare blindly at another table and blinking hard. Inhaling until she feels her lungs swell, she lets it out and fidgets with her knife, turning it in her fingers.
This woman seems to know everything else about her. Maybe she'd figured out that she is a sucker for a sob story. But fuck if it doesn't work.
It's obvious Weiss is trying to move the conversation along. Yang blows out air and tries to push the tightness clogging up her chest out with it. "Sorry to say, but your personal life isn't actually that interesting, Weiss." She jibes, and relaxes back into her chair. It's not quite as easy as it should be, but she pushes on anyways. "Some of us have more important things to do than stalking strangers."
"Important things like gaining fifty pounds?" Weiss asks, raising an imperious eyebrow.
Yang glares back. "Like losing fifty pounds. You ever try to lose that much weight? It's fucking hard."
Weiss hums quietly, tilting her head to consider it. "I once almost reached one-hundred and ten." She muses, looking down at herself. "So, I suppose I lost eight or so pounds."
A hundred pounds? Damn. "You might actually be half my weight."
Both eyebrows go up this time. "You weigh two-hundred pounds? Are you certain you've actually lost all that weight?"
Yang prods at her arm, grinding a finger into her bicep. "There's this stuff called muscle, Princess. I know you've probably never heard of it, but it's a bit heavy once you've got some." Though, if she is being completely honest, she has been considering shedding a few more pounds. It's not actually necessary, but the number 'two-hundred' has always kind of grated on her.
"I have exercised before, Yang." Weiss says, just the tiniest bit disgruntled. "At least, I used to." She admits, her voice turning down. "I'll have to get back into it. Something you can teach me, maybe."
Putting her fork down, she blows out a long breath and raises her arms, turning her palms up and linking her hands together above her head. Her muscles strain as she stretches, pulling tight beneath cream-colored skin. "Well. This isn't quite the mood I was hoping for by the end of this date. But." She gestures towards the table. "My plate is empty. And yours is close enough that it hardly matters."
There's meaning to her voice beyond just the words used to convey it. Yang follows her hand, seeing that she's correct. "Oh. Right." She agrees, not quite sure what she's trying to imply.
It must be obvious, because Weiss picks up on it straight away. Some of the tease drains out of her smile, and without it she looks almost fond, the curl of her lips settling into something that might even be affectionate. "Honestly. I'm not sure if I should be more insulted or touched." When Yang only continues to look at her blankly, she lets out a beleaguered sigh. "We had plans tonight, Yang. When dinner ended?"
A moment later, it hits her. Yang's spine straightens, her chair creaking at the sudden move. "Oh. Oh. Right."
Weiss watches with a single eyebrow arched just the slightest bit. "We can reschedule if you aren't feeling up to it."
Her voice is teasing, but the words are honest. There's a kind of resignation on her face, like she's not quite surprised enough to truly be disappointed.
Well, that's no good. The dishes rattle as Yang pushes off the table and stands, shoving her chair back. Weiss looks up at her, eyes slightly wide, and Yang pulls on her cockiest grin. "You're the one we're waiting on, princess." She says.
For a moment, Weiss looks delightfully caught off guard. And then she laughs, again, the same way she had before. The one that Yang is starting to realize means it's real. Rising to her feet, she accepts her hand when it's offered, eyes bright as she looks up at her. The coy little smile from before is gone, and the one she gives her now is breathtaking in it's honesty.
"'Waiting on me?'" She repeats, snickering. Their arms stretch out as they maneuver around the table before coming together again, her hip brushing against Yang's side as they make their way towards the door. "Do you have any idea how long it's been since anyone dared to say that to me?"
"Yup." Yang pops the p. "Because, as we've established, I know everything about you, because I'm the one who's been stalking you and keeping meticulous tabs on you for years."
Weiss laughs in shock, slapping lightly at the wrist in her grasp. "It was not stalking, you oaf." She defends, tilting her head back to look up at her. Her smile, if possible, has gotten even bigger, stretching out across her face, wide and unfiltered. "I was, at worst, mildly intrusive on social media pages."
"Please. I bet you were the one editing my Wikipedia page."
Weiss bends forward and covers her face with her hand, shoulders shaking as she laughs helplessly. Yang has a follow up on her tongue but it fades at the sight, and all she can do is watch, feeling her grin slip into something softer, and probably unbearably dopy. Weiss really is beautiful when she's laughing. And then she raises her head, meeting her eyes, and Yang is struck by the sudden urge to kiss her.
It's not until they're stepping out into the night that Yang catches sight of the valet from the corner of her eye, standing diligently on the curb, that realization strikes. Her steps stutter to a stop, and she glances over her shoulder, looking down to meet questioning blue eyes.
"Uh. Did you pay?" She asks sheepishly, faintly embarrassed at having forgotten so thoroughly.
Weiss merely huffs and shakes her head, still grinning as she tugs Yang back into motion. "They know where to send the bill, Yang. Trust me."
That's a really good point. Yang lets it drop, turning away.
The valet pulls up, and they settle back into the car. It's quiet as Yang pulls the wheel around, making her way out of the parking lot and merging into the dotted lines of traffic on the roads.
They slow to a stop at a light a few minutes later, and Yang flicks on her blinker. The quiet, repetitive clicking fills the car, and she looks at Weiss out of the corner of her eye. The little woman is curled up on the passenger seat, legs tucked loosely against her chest, making her look even smaller. Her heels are discarded carelessly on the floor, and her bare feet are delicate and lovely where they press against the dark leather. The flashing of the surrounding blinkers bathes her skin intermittently in red and orange and her head is laid back against the shoulder of the seat as she stares out the window. The slit on her dress is split wide, revealing the full length of her leg. It's ridden up slightly from the way she's sitting, and Yang can clearly see the curve of her hip peeking out beneath it, and the smooth slopes of the undersides of her thighs. Valiantly, she looks away.
The light changes, and the line moves. The car sways slightly as she guides it around the corner, and the blinker goes quiet again as it straightens.
There's nothing wrong with the silence, really. Yang feels the need to fill it anyways. She feels a bit like a tape reel that's run out, spinning and spinning without getting anywhere. She doesn't know how to be around this version of Weiss. The one that's open and honest and, quite possibly, the exact same way she has been from the start, only Yang had been too tense and wary to realize.
Their previous conversation is still nagging at her, though. She can't get it out of her head. Not with the small, lonely looking figure sitting beside her.
"You know." She starts, before stopping. And then forges on anyways, because this is going to sound horribly pretentious no matter how she tries to pad it. "You know you could have come talked to me sooner, if you were so interested in meeting me. I wouldn't have said no." Probably wouldn't even have been able to, she adds silently. The Schnee heiress would've had more than enough pull to set up a meeting with some semi-famous newbie like Yang. Her PR adviser would probably have quit on the spot if she tried to turn the offer down.
Weiss scoffs quietly, rolling her head back to send her a look over her shoulder. "Let me guess. Before an hour ago, the only things you knew about me were that my name is Schnee and that I had been disowned."
The words strike home. Yang keeps her eyes on the taillights of the car in front of them and stays silent, unable to argue but not wanting to admit it. It's answer enough.
Weiss tilts her head pointedly, victorious without triumph. "My father casts a very large shadow, Yang. A very large shadow. If I had gone to you then, you would have only seen Jacques Schnee's daughter." She shakes her head, looking back out at the passing lights. "I would have hated every second of it."
There's no accusation in her tone, only resignation. Like this is a battle she has already long given up on, because she knows it's one that she'll never win. She looks tired, quiet exhaustion in the curve of her eyes and the lines of her arms as they wrap around her knees, and the way the lights pan across her silhouette as they flash past.
It's wrong. On every level, Yang knows that look doesn't belong anywhere near the little woman. Someone as strong as her should never have to look so defeated.
How many people had been like Yang, only looking at the surface level, lumping her in with her father without a second thought. All of them, probably. What must it be like, to constantly be blamed by everyone for the things he does, no matter how hard she tries to separate herself. No wonder she hates him.
"Yeah. You're probably right." Yang agrees. "It would have been a really bad idea to bring me over while you were still living with him. If I actually met him, I'd probably end up punching him in the face."
It's only half a joke, and Weiss obviously senses it. She gives half a laugh in return before quieting, watching her with the corner of her lips ticked up in a small grin.
"You're wonderful, Yang." She informs her suddenly, nothing but sincerity in her voice. "I hope you know that."
"I think your standards are a little low." Yang replies wryly, looking away from the road for a second to send her an amused glance.
Weiss curls her legs under her, leaning back against the door, watching her. The slit on her dress pulls back over her knee as she does, falling between her legs, baring the round width of her thigh. She shakes her head, not looking away. "You don't seem to understand my standards at all." She tells her, tilting her head to the side and propping her cheek on the tips of her fingers. "It's horribly charming."
Well, Yang can agree with that much, at least. She still really has no idea what Weiss finds so intriguing about her. The kickboxing she gets- Yang knows what she's got, and isn't about to pretend that she doesn't realize she's turning heads just about everywhere she goes. But she likes to think she is at least moderately observant, and it's obvious that Weiss has some kind of investment in this. Whatever this is. Where it comes from, and how deep it goes, she has no idea.
The hotel looms in the night, bright lights spilling out of the windows into the street. She steers towards it, and hums low in her throat, considering. "I think I can guess at some of them." She probes casually.
"Oh?" Weiss responds, in a tone that says in no uncertain terms that she knows exactly what she is doing and isn't fooled in the slightest.
Yang nods with certainty. "It's the hair, isn't it?"
Weiss snorts, dropping her head down to cover the sound with her knuckles. "Yes. That is one of them."
"And the muscles."
"The muscles are certainly nice." Weiss agrees easily.
"And my irresistible charm, obviously." She adds confidently, and Weiss scoffs. "'Irresistible' could be an exaggeration. But you do have a certain abrasive kind of charisma, yes."
Yang hums, tapping her finger against the wheel. "I've got a pretty nice ass, too."
They pull to a stop in front of the valet. Weiss blows out a burst of air over her teeth, and it sounds just a little too disparaging to Yang, who turns around towards her, narrowing her eyes.
Weiss merely meets them, raising a brow. "I'll have to reserve judgement. I haven't seen it yet, after all."
Ah.
She looks over, and the smile she sends her way now is slow and lax, and terrible for Yang's impulse control.
She gets out of the car, and this time Weiss doesn't wait for her to open the door, getting out and meeting her. She watches as Yang approaches, heels dangling carelessly from her fingers, naked feet peaking out beneath black silk on the rough concrete.
Yang expects her to take her arm again, but instead Weiss tangles her fingers around one of Yang's own, tugging on it teasingly as she presses in close, lips curled up dangerously.
"Nothing to say, Xiao-Long?"
How this woman makes flirting sound like a threat, she'll never know. Her head is tilted expectantly, eyes lidded just so to darken them, standing close enough that the silk of her dress brushes against Yang's knees. It's warm from her body, and Yang's mind latches onto the feeling, running itself in circles.
Weiss is still watching her, and Yang reaches for something witty to say back. A few seconds pass, and finally she has to admit, "Nope. I got nothing."
Weiss grin sharpens into something predatory. She pulls on Yang's finger again, guiding her towards the doors, and she can only follow, feeling a bit like a lamb being led to the slaughter.