"How have you been feeling?" Kratos asked. Anna shifted on her chair and adjusted her skirt.

"Well enough. I..." She hesitated, but after a moment she relented. "I've been feeling a bit weaker than usual. It's harder to get up in the mornings. Physically and... emotionally..." She trailed off, and Kratos didn't make her keep speaking. He knew a bit how she worked, now. He'd been seeing her consistently for the last two months. Or had it been three? He'd stopped keeping track of time centuries ago, but things like months and weeks and days were starting to matter again.

One of the Desians had mentioned, in passing, that Anna seemed to respond to questioning better when Kratos was the one speaking to her, and since then Kratos was the only one allowed to interact with her, in order to assure the best possible result from the very sensitive Angelus project, as per Lord Yggdrasil's orders.

Lord Yggdrasil was undoubtedly aware by now about "his" orders, but if he minded, he'd made no comment of it.

Kratos made a few marks on the paper in front of him. When he looked up, Anna was leaning forward, staring at him intently. He felt uncomfortable being subjected to her gaze like that, but it wasn't unbearable. She wasn't looking for weaknesses. Only... answers.

"Can I ask how old you are?" she said. He frowned and tapped the tip of his pen against the paper.

"In what way do you mean?"

"Angels don't age, right? How old were you before you stopped aging?" Kratos was willing to answer her right away, but he actually needed a moment to remember. He cleared his throat to cover the hesitation.

"Twenty-eight." It sounded ridiculous when he said it. Twenty-eight. He had felt so old, even then, like he had lived through an eternity and had learned everything there was to learn. And now he realized he had been hardly even a child. It was impossible to think.

Anna was smiling, and it was those smiles that he had started to move through the days for. It had been years since he had seen someone smile. The cruel smirks and sadistic grins he had glimpsed on some of the Grand Cardinals didn't count for anything.

"I'm twenty-four," she responded, in their typical game of question-and-answer. Typical? They had a "typical" game? What was happening? What was he letting happen?

But, god, she was so young.

"I need to see your wrist again," he said, and for a moment his voice caught, but it was so small and subtle a thing he didn't imagine she'd caught it. She held her arm out with a kind of willingness like she had volunteered for this. Her skin felt strange under his fingers, like it was something he shouldn't touch.

A pulse of dread rattled through his abdomen and right into his heart. The skin looked fine, but her veins were just a little too blue. A little too dark, a little too visible.

The project really was reaching its completion, then-even if it would most likely end with Anna's death.

"Should I... ask...?" He glanced up and realized he'd made her anxious. He rarely showed his emotions-on the very rare occasions he felt them-on his face, but he must have shown something to make her so worried.

For a moment, Kratos didn't know what to say. Because... he didn't want to tell her, and he didn't imagine she would actually want to know.

"We might be able to extract the exsphere soon," he said. That was... close enough to the truth, and not quite so terrible. After all, she might survive the exsphere being removed. He wasn't sure she would last much longer if it stayed within her.

Anna, though, looked pale. It was the first time he had seen her so... vulnerable. She was usually so strong, so bright, even for everything. And now...

"Don't people usually die from that?" she asked. Even her voice was vulnerable.

He felt something that he hadn't for a very, very long time. For centuries.

Fear.

"No," he assured her, a touch too quickly. He silently chastised himself for that. "It is... a common side effect. But it is not always the result. And we'll work hard to keep you alive. You may prove vital to the project yourself, beyond simply the exsphere," he added. It sounded like a hasty and foolish sort of thing to add, but Anna hadn't noticed. She just nodded.

"I'll wish you the best of luck, then," she said, and she closed her eyes and smiled. It was small, and faint, and she was trying too hard. But it was a smile. A smile for her murderers.

"... Thank you," he said, and for a moment, she looked confused-but not nearly as much as he felt. What was he thanking her for?

Before he would have to face the question he stood up and walked over to the examination room's door. He rapped his knuckles against it and it slid open.

"Lord Kratos-" the Desian said, his voice concerned. Kratos cut him off sharply.

"Schedule the exsphere extraction process within the next three days," he ordered. He pushed past the Desian and into the hall.

"B-but Lord Kratos-!" the Desian continued. He started to follow Kratos, but let out a quick tch, pressed the button that closed the automatic door, than chased after him. "Lord Kratos, her exsphere isn't scheduled for completion for another two weeks! If we cut the experiment short early-"

Kratos rounded on him, and in response to his aggression his wings manifested behind him. They splashed the narrow, metallic corridor with icy light. The Desian recoiled.

"I'm the head of this project," Kratos said, his voice grave. The Desian stared at him in fear. "I say what steps will be taken, in what order, and what times. We have what we need-the exsphere might not be at its full potential, but at least we'll have it, instead of losing it like all of Kvar's failed attempts." He had to keep himself from spitting the words. He shouldn't have been this angry. At least, he shouldn't have acted this angry. But he couldn't help it, not now, and at least it was helping him get his point across. Although, what point it was making, he was too concerned about to think on. "The extraction process takes place in three days-is that clear?!"

"Yes, Lord Kratos, sir!" the Desian cried. He turned on his heel and bolted, and Kratos turned around himself, his wings gone but his hands balled into fists. He could feel blood sliding from his palms.

He strode off before he could start bleeding on the sheet-metal floor.