From the corner of her eye, Sonya watched as Kenshi toyed with her dog tags.
She could faintly recall tossing them at him this morning, for one reason or another, while she was getting dressed, while they were rushing to make their flight. It had been a late-night the night before, and morning had come far too early for the both of them. She had nearly slept through her first alarm, which was unheard of. And the mild panic stemming from that might've been why she had snatched her dog tags off the bedside table and tossed them to him rather than just putting them on herself.
Either way, it didn't occur to her until now that she wasn't wearing them.
It was such a blind habit for her to always have them on, it never crossed her mind that she might not be wearing them.
Or that Kenshi would still have them in his possession.
And as to be expected from him, he didn't give them back even after she was dressed- and he wouldn't even now.
Not without her asking for them first.
She wouldn't need them until they landed though- so until then, she would let him keep them.
She would let him flip the tags through his fingers, much like some people did with a pen.
He would need the distraction anyways, especially since they were in the air- and if two little tags could keep him from getting anxious, then it was a sacrifice Sonya was willing to make to keep him happy.
Kenshi hated air travel, and by this point, no one could blame him for it.
Getting tossed out mid-flight twenty-five years ago would be enough to leave a lasting scar on anyone's psyche.
Not to mention, he remarked once that the overabundance of white noise inside of a plane cabin gave him a headache. And that if he focused on the noise for too long, it gave off a dissociative impression; it made him feel like he was having an out-of-body experience in some ways, which was more than enough to convince her that it was a potential hazard.
But sometimes air travel couldn't be avoided.
As long as the hours were relatively short and they shared a cabin, he seemed about as grounded as one could be at this altitude.
"What does the 'A' stand for?" Kenshi questioned, breaking the silence between them, breaking the silence in the cabin around them. "Sonya A. Blade."
Glancing away from her notes, Sonya watched as he ran his thumb across the front of her dog tag, tracing the metal etching with the motion.
It seemed rather pointless to do, outside of trying to keep himself calm.
He already knew her information front to back.
He could recount her social security number without hesitation, as well as her blood type- although that one was easier to memorize.
"What do you think it stands for?" Sonya queried, as she went back to her papers, shifting her focus back to her work.
She didn't need to look at her own tags to confirm his question after all.
As soon as she broke away however, as soon as the question left her lips, Sonya knew exactly where his line of thinking was going to go- and for once, it felt like she was two steps ahead of him.
"Go on and get your joke out of the way first."
"It's not nearly as funny if you've already guessed it," Kenshi replied.
Which seemed to imply that she already knew his answer, which meant that she had guessed correctly on it.
"Oh, I'm sure it'll still be funny," she assured.
He chuckled softly at her condescending tone.
"Asshole," Kenshi finally answered, giving her the exact response she was anticipating. "Sonya Asshole Blade."
Sonya snorted before she jabbed the end of her pen into his chest, hitting him right between his armor and overcoat.
This wasn't the first time she had heard that quip before- and it certainly wouldn't be the last.
"You could at least show some respect to your employer," she remarked.
"General Sonya Asshole Blade."
"Thank you."
Kenshi went quiet for a moment, and she figured he was contemplating giving her a real answer this time.
Something he seemed to support, given he continued to run his thumb over the thin metal of her tags.
"Annabelle."
"Annabelle?" Sonya repeated, grimacing at the name as she said it out loud herself. "Is this because I'm from Texas? You think I'm some kind of southern belle? Christ, never thought a normal name would make 'Asshole' seem a lot more appealing."
"I was thinking more along the line of that demon who possesses dolls."
Never mind then.
Scratch Annabelle being a proper guess.
"Are you praying for me to kill you before we land?" she asked, as she flipped her notes and started on the next page- trailing the tip of her pen down along the printed report. "Because that's where you're headed right now."
"I'm done," Kenshi assured, much to her disbelief. "But will you tell me?"
Sonya contemplated between giving him a real answer, or letting him stew in his own curiosity.
"Alexa."
"Alexa?" he repeated. "Sonya Alexa Blade?"
She nodded as she drew a line through a portion of her report and scribbled in a note to have the information redacted before it was sent out. There were things that didn't need to be known outside of a tight circle of Generals- and it was her call right now to decide who needed to know what.
Much like a situation she was in right now.
"Actually, it's Alicia," Sonya corrected.
"Alicia-"
"Anya," she interrupted. "April, Aria, Anita, Ashley, Amie, Audrey- the list goes on."
Kenshi chuckled again as he moved to flip her dog tags through his fingers once more, no doubt humored by the way she had managed to turn the conversation around on him- and rather flawlessly at that. "I get it, you won't tell me."
She moved her pen to his cheek and left a thin black line just below his blindfold.
"Actually I did," Sonya corrected. "You just have to pick which one it is."