The soothing resonance of her voice is unexpected, and she expertly catches my wordless sign of surprise before I'm able to conceal it. It triggers a tinge of amusement across her features, and a soft smile teases the corner of her lips.

My composure regains itself and speaks. "The average person of your age, when asleep, should normally take ten to fifteen breaths per minute. You took forty."

No.10's eyes illuminates with enticement at the sight of a statistic. "Maybe you should think twice before comparing me to your typical, average person then."

She leans in.

Expecting a continuation of the sexual harassment demonstrated earlier in the Uchiha's office, I'm taken slightly aback when after a fleeting instant, No.10 removes herself off me. Once her feet rise to a vertical position, she reachs a pale hand out toward me.

I evidently reject the offer, and instead narrow my eyes bitterly. "How did you manage to untie yourself?"

No.10 displays a tight smirk. "If I tell you, it will no longer be a secret," she replies dauntlessly, and retrieved her empty hand.

She begins unraveling the black circumference of cloth wrapped around each of her limbs. I set my feet perpendicular to the floor, watching her every movement with intensifying suspicion. She turns toward me with a provocative gaze. "Rather than merely watching me undress, why don't you try helping?"

I don't bother to waste my time responding, alternatively finding myself slightly distracted by the light red spots her naked arm dons. I recall deeming them body cosmetics upon first sight, but with closer inspection, the marks more accurately resemble—

"Are these wounds that fascinating?" Her question derails my train of thought.

My scrutiny scrolls up to meet her unreadable eyes. "Not at all."

"That's too bad." She finishes revealing her other arm, which share the same crimson injuries as the other. "I was hoping to share an interesting anecdote."

My eyes flash with humble curiosity. Seeing how Sasuke hasn't provided me with any useful background information, this story of hers is more than necessary. "Do what you want."

A twinkle of mirth tickles her orbs of sick amber. "Well, my audience doesn't seem to be very intrigued…" No.10's voiced trails off as she rotates 180 degrees so that her back faces me. "Mind untying it?"

I want her story. "Are you injured there as well?" My hands travel up her back and linger at the small knot the two ends of her black attire intersected. I undo it with impressive ease and untangle the cloth.

"No." No.10 pulls the layers entirely separate from her upper body, exposing her fair, untouched back. "Fortunately, they were thoughtful enough to spare this area," she says.

My attention snaps with wonder. "They?"

No.10 nods noiselessly as she concentrates on unweaving the last bit of black material from her legs. "Naruto and Sakura."

My ears spend a moment to decide whether they have ever encountered the two names. It seemed they haven't. "I don't know them."

"That's not a surprise." No.10 stares at me collectedly. "First meetings tend to reveal very little."

At first, I haven't the slightest clue of what she was trying to imply. But in a matter of time, I realize. My eyes widen a good centimeter. "…No.5 and No.6?"

No.10 confirms it with a tad tilt of the head. "Bingo." The young woman brushes off invisible dust particles from her undergarments and points at her black costume lying messily on the floor. "Where do I dispose of these?"

I don't answer—for I don't hear her—as I absorb the unnerving, dire image before me. Her body is a story itself. Although painted with porcelain white skin, it's tainted, scarred, and scarlet with lacerations and bruises, along with partially healed scars that over time matured into a maroon pigment of dry blood. "Is this all Sasuke's doing?"

Her chocolate depths quietly analyze my lavenders. "Shh." She raises a finger to her slightly parted lips. "Master wouldn't want me to answer that." My eyebrows furrowed, and my lips quickly encourage a retort, but before I can make a sound, she does. "Ne, what's your name again?" No.10 scratches her thin arm idly, yawning. "Neji, was it?"

"Hyuuga Neji," I correct with a tint of growing irritation. Her way of steering the conversation into whichever direction she wishes was not in the least pleasant. "Returning to my previous question, did—"

"Neji-san." No.10 tilts her head back and stares absentmindedly at the ceiling. "I—" A gluttonous grumble left her stomach. "…I'm hungry."

A deep sigh escapes from me as I rub my temples, noting, with some regret, that I'm on the verge of starvation myself. "There's a supermarket near by. What would you like to eat?"

"Oh?" Her eyes twinkle amusingly. "I have a choice?"

"Forget it," I answer callously, and reach my right hand into my back pocket. "Give me your hands." No.10 doesn't comply immediately, instead observing my grim stare with her blank one. I sigh once more before I reach my free hand toward the troublesome woman. But before I'm able to successfully secure her hands in mine, she lunges back.

"Rather than going through the trouble of trying to handcuff me," she speaks evenly, "why don't you just bring me along, Neji-san?"

"No."

No.10 slants her gaze toward the windows. "Don't worry. The sun's down. It's completely dark out there—"

"Making it much easier for you to escape," I intercept. "Should that really not worry me?"

The woman smirks. "It shouldn't. You're a professional after all."

I glance at her. "Pardon?"

"You're one of the most sought-after security operatives," No.10 says as she stepped further away, toward the direction of the room's windows, "reining many state security services, as well as receiving several personal requests from top government agencies for protection." No.10 curves her body into a comfortable position on the window sill and silently waits for my reaction. When I offer none, she persists. "In other words, you're a professional bodyguard."

"What are you implying?" I question calmly.

"Nothing, really." She presses two fingers against the cold window pane, sliding them up and then down idly. "Just that I'm very, very scared of you, Neji-san." She smiles indecently.

I clear my throat. "I'm assuming you heard this extensive résumé from Sasuke."

"Yes. Master is very fond of you."

"What else did he tell you?"

"Nothing much," she brushes it off with a shrug. "But hey, about that food…"

"I'll go buy some." I step toward No.10, pulling out the set of metal handcuffs from my pocket. "Alone."

She pouts, outstretching her hands nevertheless. "Why can't we just order some take-out?"

"It's not healthy." I confine her handcuffed hands to one of the window's pillars structured specifically for restriction purposes. "Sit here until I get back."

"Do I have any other option?"

In response, I lock the handcuffs with another pair—one that is twice as thick and durable. "Try not to fall asleep."

She blinks. "Why not?"

I step out the door momentarily to retrieve a small portable radiator from the adjacent room. "It gets cold in here, even with the heater on."

"Afraid I'll get sick?" Her deviant smile irks me. "How sweet."

"The only thing worse than tending to a prostitute who emanates nothing but lust is tending to a prostitute who spews out not only lust, but bacteria and snot as well," I answer with not much hesitation.

No.10 lets out a laugh. "Charming," she remarks sarcastically. "Perhaps you should've provided me with warmer clothing then."

"I have none," I grunt. "I'll buy some on the way," I add as I step into my shoes and grab my wallet.

"Have a safe trip, Neji-san," she exclaims ardently as her eyes follow my figure out the doorway.

After locking each of the three front doors, relocking two for safety measures, double-checking each lock twice, then thrice, and finally stepping down from the doorstep, I faintly catch No.10's departing sentence, something about looking exceptionally good in pink.

I grunt again.

As if I'll be ever seen shopping for women's clothing, let alone in the color pink.