"So you healed me… it felt warm, like honey."

The description was so Tamaki-like Kyoya had to smile.

"Do you have super powers or something?"

Kagome shrugged, but her eyes crept to the top left like she was recalling something. "Or something. I've had the ability since I was younger."

The precarious situation had Kagome swallowing her burdensome truths like stones. If they were to all drown, she wouldn't mind being the heaviest. Swimming had long tired her arms, by this point.

Let her drown. The sight of these two swimming past her would be a welcome one.

Kyoya stood, swaying slightly. It had been days since he stood last, weakened into slouching by the conditions of their captivity.

What would it be like, to unfurl these long legs of his and to run? Would it ever be easy again? Each footstep they took down the hall seemed so important, so achingly slow.

There was a shuddering, almost sigh-like sob from his friend. Tamaki was miserable- Kyoya was as well- and in need of a distraction.

"Tamaki," Kyoya said suddenly, drawing the blonde's attention. "We should take her to your favorite café when we get back."

Disbelief made a slow trek across Tamaki's face, before it settled into an apprehensive sort of hopefulness. "Right," he said slowly. Then, in a quiet aside to The Woman, "Do you like French cuisine?"

Despite the situation, The Woman sounded like she was smiling. "I'm sure that I will enjoy it. What do you recommend?"

The frenchman's expression turned positively dreamy. "This café my mother used to take me had the best crêpe Suzette, so I'm partial... We'd sit outside for hours, and I would have coffee." Tamaki must have seen something in their expressions, for he explained, "I drank coffee from a very young age. Growing up, mère would make me café au lait- milky, sweet coffee- and you drink it out of a bowl. You can dip your brioche in it..."

He continued speaking, voice carrying on for a while longer until the footsteps down the hallway were heard. Then Tamaki made a very quiet choking sound and exchanged a look with his two cellmates.

The Woman looked grimly determined, and moved to stand by the door. Behind her, Kyoya- whose face was more familiar than his own some days- looked like a stranger. Tamaki shivered. He didn't know what would happen, but it was clear the other two expected a fight.

The footsteps drew nearer.

"Showtime."

The door swung inwards, and was propped open by the yakuza's boot. Surveying the two teens, he cocked an eyebrow. "Last time I counted there were three of you little shits. Where's the girl?"

Kyoya held the man's eyes defiantly. Before the yakuza could make a step towards him, the figure just behind the door moved and The Woman flung her arms over the man's neck. In her hands was the same whip she had been beaten with, and she pulled and pulled and pulled until he stopped fiercely clawing at her. He scratched up her face and shoulders and arms as she choked the life out of him.

As soon as he went limp The Woman took out his gun, checked the safety and pocketed it. She continued to pat him down, taking his coat, his too-large running shoes were thrusted towards the boys, his wallet was riffled for cash and she tucked the man's license between her breasts.

If her dead body was found in the woods, at least they'd have one of their names.