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Of course, he'd known that she was hiding from him.
Killing her, or the male that shadowed her, wouldn't have been smart, though the urge to do so had been unimaginably severe.
Now, curled beneath a collapsed staircase with the green-eyed one's pouch of sorts tucked in his ams, he felt that impulse again. It was her smell, clinging to the stitched material. Her fear was there, traces of it, and it was enchanting.
Tentatively, he pulled at the brassy metal charm that hung from the top of the pouch; the material parted. He reached in, purring with satisfaction, then shuddered as a claw snagged on something solid.
He took out the object; a strange, cylindrical container. Something sloshed around inside when he gave it a shake.
The soft, little creatures were more bizarre than he'd thought.
Feeling impatient, he dug a claw into the top and pulled back the thin metal. Syrupy liquid spilled out, the aroma horribly sweet.
A poison of some sort?
He held out the can and dumped it's contents before him; odd, mushy chunks splattered across the floor. Feeling bold, he picked one up between two fingers and sniffed it carefully, hissing in revulsion.
But something about it was tempting, and interesting. Anything for a clue...
Hesitantly, he brought the chunk to his massive jaws and took a bite. It was sugary, pulpy. Nothing like meat, but oddly pleasing.
It was what the female ate.
He rose up on all fours and began to eat the chunks off the floor, and when they were gone, sucked up all the juice he could.
Christia had only been in Sevastopol's vents once, as a child. She'd managed to get herself hopelessly lost and half of Seegson's staff had spent nearly ten hours searching for her.
It had left a scar, albeit small, but a scar nonetheless, just waiting to drip anew.
Fitz had led them safely past the Working Joe's who'd clustered together near the Systech lobby; luckily, too fixated on finding the 'unidentified species' to notice them slink by. Christia kept watch while he routed power to the vents and elevators, but someone had initiated a biohazard lockdown on the whole level. The doors couldn't be unlocked.
It didn't explain why half the lights had gone out, including those in the vents.
They were forced to clamber through the claustrophobic passages in pitch darkness, not willing to risk the flashlight.
"We're more than halfway there," Fitz whispered. She couldn't see him, and though he was barely two feet in front of her, Christia began to panic. Whimpering, she quickened her pace and bumped into Fitz.
"We need to go faster, I-I have to get out of here!"
"Christia, it's alright, we're almost there-"
"He's going to find us in here and he's going to kill us! Please!" She cried, shoving him forward. "Can't fucking breathe..." Fitz turned his body around to face her and grabbed the collar of her suit, pulling her close; Christia wrestled against his hold.
"It's me, it's Fitz! Everything's okay, I'm here! Turn on your flashlight, you'll see...everything's alright," He soothed, a hand on her cheek.
She leaned against the wall of the vent, hands fumbling for the light. "I can't c-calm down, I can't breathe!" Christia gasped, yanking the flashlight from her belt violently. It sprang to life, disorienting her a moment. Breathing raggedly, she looked at Fitz; his wide eyes caught the orange glow, shimmering bright and filled with concern. Full lips parted, friendly, familiar. He smiled gallantly, and she felt the panic ebb away.
"I'm so sorry, I just-"
"Let's just keep moving, okay? Thirty feet and we're out." Christia bit her lip and nodded, turning off the flashlight.
They crawled on; Fitz told her to wait as they reached the exit, the steel hatch grinding open like a vortex. Murky light flooded the vent, but she couldn't see much.
He slipped out soundlessly, then motioned for her to follow. She was more than happy to oblige, pushing herself out hastily and joining him in the open corridor.
"This way," He whispered, taking her hand.
The elevator was just around the corner, doors closed and control pad twinkling green. Fitz called it down to their level, and they waited nervously as cables whirred and metal vibrated.
Ding.
"We're okay, we're good," He mumbled, clearly relieved. "How's your ankle?" Christia pushed back her knotted hair, eyes down.
It was unbearable.
"Fine," She whispered, looking up as the elevator gates opened, "For...now..." Her words died out.
No. God, no please...
A mournful cry rose in her throat, but came out a sigh, and she fell to her knees, staring into the elevator, staring at the lifeless body of her father.