Vaclav wonders, as Icarus stalks toward him into the dim lights, if he should be getting between him and Faridah. If he is here to kill her, if that look on his face is aimed at her. His shoulders are tense, and where he thought 'covered in blood' he realizes Icarus is actually soaked in it. His coat drips at the hem, the small trail following his footsteps. The tank is- it's a cryo tank. Vaclav catches a glimpse of it, turned to him in the light, and he sees a leg. Her leg.

Icarus actually…stops, when he sees her. Vaclav is halfway blocking his view, and he doesn't realize he's blocking the sight of her missing leg until Icarus pushes him aside, firmly but not harshly, to see. He sets the tank down with a loud thunk, and Vaclav moves to go collect it before thinking better of it. He's still not quite sure what Icarus is here for, why he's here now. He's always called before coming, and even then he limits his visits to once every few months, sporadically. Vaclav wouldn't call him a regular, though he has the feeling that he sees Icarus more often than other mechanics in the Phoenix's network.

"How did this happen?" it's a low growl, and it stops Vaclav short. He's not sure why Icarus is asking him – he probably knows more, looking at him. Vaclav reaches for the cryo tank – a few hours too late to reattach the leg, even if it hadn't been so violently severed. Icarus doesn't react visibly, though Vaclav thinks he is being scrutinized suddenly, more than he was before.

Icarus waits for his answer. Vaclav lifts the cryotank, careful and gentle, and sets it aside on a far counter. Out of the way of any operations, where it can't be knocked over. Vaclav sighs. Maybe Icarus will give him something if he tells him what he knows. The little that he does.

"She was going to negotiate with a crew setting up in Bulgaria. It moved too fast and encroached on her space. I…I thought they might be local Bulgarians. I told her to take a bodyguard. I told her." He reaches for the scalpel and digs into his arm again. Icarus' flat expression seems to sour, the thin line of his lips growing hard and almost a frown. "She didn't listen to me. Said she'd be fine. And then-" a short puff of an exhale. "Then Pr-" maybe Icarus doesn't know who Pritchard is. "A friend patched me into her vitals after they spiked and started falling. We called her and found out she'd lost a leg. She…got herself here. Somehow." He pulls the tool out and waves his arm towards her. "Then this."

Icarus doesn't say anything. His shades are down and Vaclav can't be sure where exactly he's looking, but he would bet his books that it was at Malik. Pritchard is silent in his ear, but still there. He didn't even make a comment about Vaclav almost giving away his identity to (likely) the world's most dangerous assassin. Everything was a little off this evening. Night. Was it still night?

"How…hooow did you get that?" Vaclav points at the tank. That seems to be the best way into asking about what is going on.

Icarus makes him wait for the answer. Looking at Malik, instead. The quiet settles, and Vaclav shifts, restless and unable to sit still, to wait. Always moving, always has been. He could be checking on Malik, he could be drafting her new leg, he could be doing so many things. But Icarus is still, and Vaclav wonders how he can be. He would guess it was indifference, but the blood, the leg, his expression, all those say otherwise. Vaclav isn't stupid. Icarus had never come to him in such a state before, and he'd definitely come directly from some jobs previously.

"She called me and requested I bring it back." He stops there, and Vaclav is left with entirely more questions than he started with. Which…isn't so unusual of Icarus. Finally something he's a little bit used to.

"Did she uh…tell you I'd pay you? What were you promised?" He doesn't know how much Icarus asks for. He's certainly never been near enough money to consider asking Icarus to even punch his old boss.

"She's already paid." He nods at her, as if that answers anything else. Vaclav would throw his hands into the air if he had any energy left. Who knew when she had time to pay – she didn't have any money lying around and he doesn't see Icarus carrying a crate of augs, but whatever. Far be it from him arguing with this assassin.

"Are you, uh…did you want a chair?" Icarus is…almost hovering? He's acting different, not so business-like, not so ready to hurry off and be done with him. "Or uh…shower? I don't have anything in your size but you can at least rinse off-"

"Are you going to augment her?" Icarus interrupts him.

"I…yeah, I mean, I gotta make it first, but yeah." His hands are still on the chair, fingers tapping against the top of it. Restless and so out of his depth here. He knew augs, not people. And least of all Icarus.

"She asked you to?" Icarus is looking at him now, he's certain. He turned his shoulder towards Vaclav to make that extra clear.

"Uh- not to make her one, but her first question when I called was if I had any legs laying around so- so…yeah?"

Icarus seems satisfied with the answer. Vaclav wonders why he asked. It was a very specific thread, and it couldn't have come from nowhere. "I was going to give her a replacement until then but- it's not the right size, and the shock might've…might've killed her, so she's just gonna have to wait." Plus, if she had a leg, wrong size or not, she'd go right back to working, and then she'd really get herself killed. She needed a break.

He doesn't realize he's said that last bit aloud until Icarus moves, glances at her and nods once. Vaclav is about to ask why – why he cares, why he's still here. What he's getting out of this.

Before the words leave his mouth (and before he can think better of asking that), Malik shifts with a noise low in her throat. Both he and Icarus move in synchrony, to her side – Vaclav on the injured one, both because he was closer and he moved just the slightest bit faster.

"Heey, hey, Mal, easy. I'm here." Still uses her nickname, though her first name might get through to her easier. He doesn't know how close she and Icarus actually are, or how much she trusts him. He doesn't think she was hiding anything from him, but everything she's told him thus far never implied that he would go to this length for her.

"V-?" her voice is hoarse, cracked, and her eyes aren't open yet.

Vaclav moves the light he'd been using to operate by so it doesn't shine into her face and reaches for her hand with one of his. "Yeah, it's me. You're safe. You made it home."

"Where…?" her free hand reaches to scrub at her face, and Icarus hasn't moved from her side, watching her but looking a little unsure about what to do.

"My bookshop. You're okay. No one can get you here." A short pause. "Icarus is here too."

Her eyes fly open and she nearly jolts upright before Vaclav's hands catch her and push her back down, gentle but firm. Icarus actually steps back, and Vaclav doesn't spare him a glance to try and figure out why – those shades would stop him from understanding anyway. She still hasn't noticed her missing leg, which is good. Vaclav wants to keep her from that shock until she's at least a little more awake, a little more grounded.

"Icarus?" she turns her head, searching for him, and seems a little startled at his state when her gaze lands on him. She's somewhere between too alert and still far too out of it. At least she doesn't fight Vaclav's restraining hands on her.

"I'm here, Faridah."

Vaclav actually startles at that more than Malik does. He and Pritchard, as far as they knew, were the only ones to know her full name, and that Faridah Malik was the Phoenix. The rest of the world was supposed to think she was dead. Either she told Icarus, or they have some very pressing things to worry about.

She looks at him a moment longer, before dropping her head back. Exhausted, probably. Vaclav is still trying to put the pieces together, and the sounds of furious clacking in his ear tells him that Pritchard is looking into whether or not this is a problem.

"I fulfilled your request." Icarus…shifts. He looks unsettled, suddenly. Despite being the living weapon dripping blood in Vaclav's dungeon, he looks nervous. Or…at least not at ease.

"…Request?" she doesn't even remember. Which, Vaclav realizes, he should have expected. Such a traumatic event and her memory would more than likely be fuzzy between the shot and getting home. She seems confused as to why Icarus is even here.

"You hired me for a job. And you asked me to do one before that." He's actually being…almost gentle with her? He's not gruff, or snapping that she doesn't remember. Vaclav doubts other clients get this much patience and care from him. For Icarus…this speaks volumes. "I completed the latter, and. Will take you up on the former."

Vaclav feels as confused as Malik looks. So at least they're on the same page on this. Icarus glances at him and Vaclav gets the feeling he's not wanted. Which, tough luck, but…he might give them a moment, for Mal's sake. He gestures to the elevator, promises he'll be right back, and heads upstairs to at least close his shop door. Pritchard is still listening, anyway, he's sure. And if he's not, Malik will tell him. Unless she has been hiding things from him until now. That's a worrying thought. He'll deal with it later. He owes her at least that much.

Malik watches Vaclav leave, dazed and…her head feels fuzzy. The hand that he'd been holding a little cool suddenly, despite the fact that he'd been holding it with alloy hands, with what should have been cold metal. It hadn't been – it had been warm and thrumming like he'd been using every aug he'd filled it with just recently before. She hadn't thought to question it – Vaclav was always working on something. But now that she thought about it, she wasn't in his bed, taking a nap. She was in his chair. Was she what he had been working on?

Jensen…Adam interrupts her train of thought. "You asked me to be your bodyguard." There's a frown on his face, she can actually see it, and…that doesn't seem very much like him. Neither frowning (though she supposes if he made any expression, frowning should be the most likely one), not expressing himself in front of her. Any stranger and he'll be flicking his shades off. "I'll do it."

This…really throws her for a loop. She vaguely remembers asking him for his help, for just one job, but he'd said no, and pretty firmly at that. "You said you don't- y'said you don't guard," she answers, confused.

"You didn't tell me what for."

He didn't let her, but she thinks that's not being contested at the moment. "Well-" she did the job. She thinks. She left for it, and she's back here, so the job should be done, right? "I already finished that outing." Icarus should know that, that should be pretty obvious.

"Regardless, you look like you could use the help now."

Malik wonders what that's supposed to mean. She feels fine, more or less. Her head is clearing up but starting to ache. She's a little sore, and a little floaty, but maybe she's just tired. "I can't- afford anything longterm." She'd have to stop giving any augs away entirely just to afford him for a couple hours a day. For one mission she could handle, but for an extended timeframe? She couldn't even dream of it.

"That's fine, Faridah. The only payment I ask is parts when I need them." His voice is strained, gruff and she can't figure out what he's trying to say. He's trying to tell her something, but she's not here enough to grasp it.

"That's…that doesn't add up." Even half-awake like this she can tell that's not right. He…his time and energy were worth far more than that.

"Just, let me do this, okay, 'Mal'?" There's a twist in her nickname, in what Vaclav and all her crews call her, and she decides she'll worry about it later. She's not here enough to argue with an assassin, and maybe this is all a dream anyway. She seems to be having a lot of weird dreams about Icarus lately. Was his name even Adam?

The elevator dings and Icarus steps back again – when had he gotten closer? – and Vaclav walks back in. He doesn't even pretend to be interested in his phone, immediately coming back over to her.

"Heyy, you're still awake. How are you feeling?"

"Like I went base-jumping and hit the target with my face."

Vaclav manages a shaky laugh at that, which, to be fair, is progress. He'd been looking pale and shaken until just then.

"I'll get you something for that. Anything else?" He moves closer, wanting to be at her side when she finally realizes what's missing. He needs to make sure she doesn't hurt herself more.

"Pretty sore 'round my leg," she starts to move, to sit up, and Vaclav stops her. Icarus does too, surprisingly. A black alloy hand on her right shoulder matching his silver and red one on her left.

"Do me a favor Mal, and just lay back a bit."

"Why?"

"You lost your leg on that last job. You came to me half dead and I stabilized you-" she jerks in surprise and he holds her down. "I'm gonna make you a custom aug for it, don't worry. I didn't give you a replacement because I thought the shock might kill you. You're all set up for a new leg when I finish making it though." The last few sentences are all a rush of breath, trying to get it all out before she fights him harder.

She looks between Icarus and Vaclav, and a few things start to come together. Piecemeal, disjointed, but she thinks she might have an idea why Icarus is so bloody, looks so…off. She goes slack under their hands, lays back and closes her eyes. A heavy sigh, and she looks again at Vaclav. Recognizes now that she was the reason he looked so pale.

"Thanks, kid. Sorry for worrying you." Her voice is still raspy, which….probably doesn't do much to comfort him, but. She owes him her life.

His shoulders slump and his hand slides off her shoulder. "Don't do that again, Mal."

She huffs a small noise – amusement? – and closes her eyes again.