"Jango… how do you teach them to deal with really ending a real person?"

He stopped in his tracks. Closed his eyes.

"Ad'ra. There's only one way to do that…"

She sucked in a deep breath.

"I wish I was older when I came here. I wish I could have taught them the way Da taught me, so it was just knowing that this is the business we're in and this is how you do it. Instead of getting this far out and-"

"They're running the sims. Doing well in the live-fire arena."

"It's still not the same."

He reached for her hands. "I can do this part with yours."

She shook her head.

"I need to do it. Tell me how you taught the ARCs…"

.

She didn't like it. It wasn't pretty.

They were traumatized, but too well trained to let it show. Too terrified of reindoctrination or reconditioning. Of walking the plank, was the euphemism they used—her core group, Jango and his friends Tiethe' and H.G. and Jaig. Now Rav and Vau joined them more and more often, too. But she got the feeling they were friends-of-friends. Not true friends.

Although Jango would be the first to tell you that his first affection had been for Jaster Mereel and him alone for many years. That Liam Rottske had been his best friend. He'd grieved when he died. Truly grieved the soul as well as missing the man's steadfastness in advisory capacity, his loyalty as his adenn. They'd been more than partners. Aliit ori'shya tal'din. Family is more than blood.

They'd spilled enough of it together, though, both in training and then in partnership.

Tal vod.

Blood brothers.

Now she'd bloody her own vode and grieved for the last of the innocence she snuffed out of them.

"Ni ceta," she whispered to the quiet room when she checked on them after a week of it. Just as she had every night this week.

"Shuk'la," a voice said behind her. [Weak. Shattered. Broken.]

"I do not speak to you."

He was watching her, concern on his face, when she finally spared him a glance.

"Those are solemn words."

"What we do here is serious business," she told him.

He wondered how old she was now. Days ran together. Weeks, months, with no set deadline, no end date, no goal in sight.

Time passed strangely that way, with no end to the contract.

"You're going to break," Vau warned her.

"Ne shab'rud'niO."

"Fett told me that he volunteered to take this part. You should have let us."

"I could not have looked myself in the eyes," she told him. "There would have been no honor in it, in bowing out because someone offered to help me when it became harder than I could palate."

"And if you break? What good does that do him? Us?" His chin jerked. "Them."

"Are you not the same man who stood in that hallway and told me to be tougher than you are, to bloody myself first, so that you could stand beside me in battle and know I would handle what came at me? Who threatened my very reason for existing, based solely on the fact that I am female under this shabla beskar plate, because the idea of me being both Mandokarla and soft was a danger to you and the rest of my marev?"

Her fist, she claimed them.

Hell, yeah. Mandokarla indeed.

"Ad'ra…"

"I'm not going to break over this. If nothing else, they need me to be stronger as we deal death face-to-face now."

He nodded. "It gets worse."

"It always does."

"We would have shared the burden. No one is meant to stand alone, least of all a child in this dar'yaim place."

"I am not a child."

"You are our adenn. You should apologize to no one. Especially not those you train to survive a war in which they have no stake and no soul."

She didn't feel like the lectures today. Not after the night just past. The days they'd spent.

"You know nothing," she told him. "It is you who are adenn, verd'yc, layari."

[Merciless, brutal, heartless, overconfident.]

"If that were true this would be a lot easier."

She started to walk away.

"Then seek your own comfort elsewhere. I have duties to attend and there's no meeting for your council reserved on my schedule."

"Whose council would you rather have?" he asked sardonically. "Kal Skirata's who cried in his tihaar? Or Vhonte Tervho who looks at this like just one giant experiment, a convenient diversion now that she's been shunned from every army Mandalore mounts? Or perhaps-"

She turned on him.

"I want my father," she told him simply, shutting him up. "On days like this, when it's hard, when I hate it? I want to hear my father telling me to put down my piece, police my AO, and take the next step, because everything sucks. Is that what you wanted to hear? That that's my weakness. I had a father I loved and honor still and I miss him most on nights like this when my courage runs thin and I want to hide but instead I have fifteen requisitional details to see to, an entire cadre watching me—waiting for me to fail—and a Mand'alor who expects me to be somewhere…" She checked her chrono. "Now. I have somewhere to be now."

"You should catch some rack time," he countered. "You're going to wear yourself thin this week. It's too much."

"You're neither my father nor my superior officer nor my Mand'alor. You don't get a say in what I do or when."

"I'll take it up with them, then."

"Be my guest. File a complaint."

He shook his head. "Not every suggestion is a complaint, Ad'ika."

"Don't call me that."

"Fine," he agreed. "The statement stands. A contingency can make a suggestion, give advice, and not mean it as a rebuke. You'd do well to learn to listen to voices with more experience than you."

"I did that, Vau. It got me here."

Her hand waved. She let it fall.

"I have to go. Not just to get away from you. I'm not running away from you. I'm just… due somewhere else."

"I get that," he agreed.

"My father would have been proud of me," she said in a small voice. The sound of control over her words cut him more surely than any knife.

"That was ill-said of me," he told her, reaching out to stop her. "N'eparavu takisit."

He quickly pulled his hands back when she rounded on him. Held them aloft in surrender.

"Ad'ra. I do apologize. I should never had said that. I didn't mean it at the time and I certainly wasn't thinking it now."

She just stared at him, morose. Her face was slack from lack of sleep, bruised under her eyes from it. Wan from the exercises she'd never let her company face without her.

"I respect you very much. I wonder if I had as much faith in myself at your age."

"How old were you when you joined us?"

"Fifteen. Perhaps sixteen. I don't know."

She nodded. "Why?"

"I had nowhere else to go and enough anger and frustration to make a decent job of it, if I learned self-control."

"Do you think you can learn it too well? Self-control?"

He paused. Considered.

"It depends on the final goal. What outcome you're looking for."

"Numbness," she mumbled. "I want to be numb to it."

"That's the opposite of self-control."

Her comm pinged.

"I have to go," she said again.

He nodded. "For what it's worth? The way you stand with your men? Ad'ra… I wish like hell you'd been born a man and born a few decades earlier. Men go their whole lives without a leader to rally behind. You might have been the ones to unite the clans, before all this."

"I don't want to lead. Just to serve."

"The best leaders say such. When you're tired? When you need that boost? Read Tol'cyan Evireth Soy Non."

"Is that the title or the author?"

"Both. May I send you the link?"

She nodded.

He reached out. Chucked her under the chin. Spoke softly.

"It sucks, Ad'ra. It sucks so hard. Then you straighten your spine, take the next step, and move on."

"It sucks so bad," she whimpered. Steeled her features, looking away from him.

"I know it," he agreed. Sucked in a deep breath of his own. "I'm sorry."

She nodded.

"Go on," he whispered.

Turned on his heel and let his steps take him back to his own company. Beat the hell out of a few of them in the name of hardening them. Cauterized the knot in his gut by working through it.

Hated the forgotten gods of Mandalore who would send a child to do a man's job—and this tender girl child who only wanted to please on top of it. It was a fate even more unkind than the one handed to the boys he wailed on.

.

.o0o.

.

"Why don't we have visors yet?" Ad'ra asked near the end of the din'kartay.

"What visors?" H.G. wanted to know.

He really didn't have a dog in this fight, but he'd taken to throwing his oar in so often that somewhere along the way Fett started inviting him to most of this osik'la.

"The sniper visors. The regular CTs have them, their snipers…"

Fett cocked his head to the side.

"I wasn't going to get your guys visors."

"Why?"

"First of all, they don't need them. Secondly-"

"Can we just train with them some? I looked at the specs-"

"You looked or you had a lad look?" Jaig asked.

She grinned a half-grin. "My vode were interested. We were doing some spying. I can get my hands on them, but they're not fitted for our helmets or calibrated to our HUDs, so it would mean some reworking. Which is going to be hard to do in the time we have and without someone noticing."

Tiethe' shook his head. "She's terrifying. Where do they not get into?"

"You have other things to focus on."

"Or," Ad'ra countered. "You could indulge our whim since you know its caught our attention now. The ARCs had them issued."

"They did."

"Do you think the increase in their efficiency was a direct result, or simply an improvement that would have come anyway?"

"I think it was inevitable, especially since their numbers remain the same now with or without enhancement—and even without HUDs."

"Barely. And they're not the same. They just round up that way."

Fett sighed. "You're arguing decimal points of productivity with me?"

She shrugged. "I'm not arguing at all. I just want some new kit for my vode and you're in my way."

"How so?"

"You've got that worm in the system that will alert you if I circumvent your approval or hack it."

Vau couldn't contain the chuckle. His shoulders moved as he tried to hide it.

"Alert me, yes, but not prevent you."

"So is that an 'I don't want involved, but okay,' thing? Or a challenge?"

"Hell," H.G. leaned forward. "I can't believe you wrote a program her Cin couldn't circumvent."

It was Fett's turn to chuckle.

Ad'ra seethed. "He did an end run."

"What did he do?" Thiete' asked. "Get the clone to write it?"

"As a matter of fact…" Fett beamed.

"Plus he gave him direct orders to not go around it just on my order. Which is why we're where we are today…"

"You can have the visors," Fett agreed. "Walon's good with them-"

"Walon's good without them," the man interrupted.

"Let him help you figure out what you want added or changed and get it to development."

"Kandosii!"

"Anything else?"

He glanced around. Nodded with pursed lips.

"I appreciate all of you being here. I know it's not where we thought we'd end up."

"Good company," Jaig said.

H.G. thumped the man on the shoulder. "I didn't have anywhere else to be. And gods knew I needed somewhere where there's always a good hand of cards."

"Stop teaching Ad'ra to cheat."

"She's not cheating," the girl objected, her head shooting up. "I don't cheat. Not like that."

"She's not cheating," Fett told Thiete'. Shook his head. "You've seen her when she decides to go after something she wants. She doesn't dick around with subtlety or niceties. When she kicks your shebs, it's pure skill."

"Mandokarla," Vau cheered. Offered his elbow.

She thumped it automatically, the way he'd seen her thump Jaig's and H.G.'s hundreds of times.

"I'm going to be off-world for a while. Don't get dead."

"Don't get dead, boss," she told him. Smiled at him.

He couldn't help but duck down and kiss her brow before he left. It was bad form, especially in front of the other men, but she still had things to do in here and he needed to get on the way. The others wouldn't disperse until he did.

Vau gathered his own things.

"I'll get a box of visors sent up. Comm me when you've got time in your schedule. We'll need a bigger chunk of time later, to actually work through some stuff. Plan to bring a squad of guys with you when you set that up."

Her blank look surprised him.

"Just for a first round. No judgement."

"I don't have a squad… I'll, um, just, um…"

H.G. patted her head. "Just pick four. Take your two best shots and your two lousiest shots."

She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Yeah. Okay."

"And make sure at least one of them is handy," Vau suggested.

"One and Fallon both are. Tech is their god. A better war through better kit."

"I like these kids already."

.

They worked in companionable silence. She'd never worn the visors, so he started off on the long-range sim-course with just her. Let her use his Merr-Son.

Answered seven and a half million questions, which did not endear Fett to him.

Had to admit the kid could shoot.

Wondered… if he'd been able to get Isla off-world with him…

It made his gut ache.

He also wondered where the hell she was getting her shampoo when she pulled her buy'ce off. Her hair was in a simple tail that fell—hot—when it came free. He knew prostitutes that didn't smell that good, especially after a long day.

"This trigger is so smooth. How long did it take you to get used to it?"

"I like nice toys."

"No kidding."

"You're going to hurt yourself shooting like that."

"You're longer than me," she told him, sighting down the scope anyway. Rocked her shoulder. She had the gun cradled into a groove in her armored plate rather than where it should be snugged up. "I've always been too short for the good kit. I'm just now growing into it."

"Here," he offered, clicking something and sending the butt of the gun shooting forward. "They're fully adjustable. You don't need to-"

She tried to calm herself as he settled around her, checking length and breadth and fine-tuning.

"I wish there was a way to prove I'm hitting exactly where you do."

"I love targeting with shatter rounds. There's something satisfying about it."

She nodded. "More discreet than a laser bolt, too."

He'd left his hand on her elbow. Automatically braced against her shoulder from behind.

"There's more kick than what you'd expect. You have to-"

"You understand that I do this professionally, right?" she asked him.

He chuckled in her ear. It made her nervous.

"Utrela," she called to the range master.

"Tra'cyar Mav!"

She just breathed. Let loose with a double tap. Grunted her approval and began knocking her way down the targets.

"What are you aiming for?" he asked, dismayed.

"I'm checking your punctuation, Sergeant," she told him.

He frowned at that. Wondered.

"Bring up projection of shots fired," he demanded.

"Belay that," Ad'ra called. "Going downrange."

She hopped up, opened the hatch and went through.

"Shatter rounds will make an actual mark. If I remembered where you shot correctly they'll be-"

He stared down at her. "If you remembered where I shot?"

She nodded. "After they-"

He stalked away from her. Examined the impermeable membrane they'd erected to house the range. So many layers of different materials designed to stop anything. Nothing stopped a tank buster round. Well, almost nothing.

"Shab, Ad'ika," he hissed, crouching.

She beamed at him.

He just blinked up at her. "Why the hell did Fett think you needed help?"

"Just with the visors. I've never used a visor. I can barely use a HUD without tripping."

"Then why do you want them?"

"I don't give a kriff. My vode think they're cool. Plus they don't want to miss out on anything the ARCs got. Especially not if a shiny is going to be walking around, swinging his on his fingers like he's got something special."

"Haar haamyc." Vau whistled. "Majyce hibir ram'ser."

That made her smile.

"Did you doubt my boasts?"

"I did. Usually people with this kind of skill don't brag about them."

"I don't brag. I just tell the truth."

"You're amazing. Incredible. I can't—I'm touching this, seeing it and feeling it—and I can't make my brain comprehend it."

"This is the benchmark for our vode," she told him seriously. "You have to hit what you're aiming at."

"And there's going to be millions of them…"

She shook her head. "The regular CTs will be slightly less proficient, probably. It's why what looks perfect to people like Dred and Culbine won't look perfect to me. You can hit the target, hit center mass, even every time, and still not be as good a shot as me."

"I'm in awe. I may ask you to autograph my rifle case."

That made her laugh.

"Get off your knees, Sgt. Vau. I need a lesson on these visors. I want to make them work."

"Your lads shoot like this, too?"

"They will when I'm done."

"Holy kriff."

"You sure do forget I'm a young lady quick when it comes to your language," she chided.

"Please. You have the foulest tongue I've ever heard—and I'm sure some of what I don't understand is just as colorful."

"I read your book. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I thought it would be pertinent."

"He's written a lot of philosophy. He wouldn't approve of this."

"No. But then, I'm not always sure I approve of all of this."

"I want to know what war the GAR is gearing up for and what will happen to them when it's over. They're on an accelerated lifespan. Do you think we'll hit a stage where the buyer will tell the aiwha-bait to just ice them down for a minute? They haven't done any testing yet to see how they come out of cryostasis."

"What?"

"There's cryotanks being built. You didn't know. Pretend I didn't say anything."

"They're going to train them, then put them in cryo? All of them?"

"It looks like. Some of the tanks are huge. They're sublevel and from the designs it looks like the vode will be hooked up, just crammed front-to-back, and put under. Then submerged."

"How far into the plans are they?"

"Building stages. The visa-steel is here. They'll be able to monitor the whole thing."

"And there hasn't been any testing on putting them in, pulling them out?"

"No, sir."

"You'd think they'd do that before they build the facility, smaller scale, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, sir. Unless they're going to build this first one and try it with a whole platoon of white jobs. They look at them like they're expendable. It would give them a real test."

"How long can the tank they're looking at keep them suspended?"

"Years, by the specs. In actuality?" She rocked her head sideways between her shoulders. "I mean, that's a lot of tech, a lot of power. Some faulty wiring, a storm takes out too many of the emergency generators, you could see some serious degredation to the system. I wouldn't rely on it to keep me young. And they go in undressed. So if it cracks or gives, I doubt they wake up enough fast enough to get to the surface in time. Plus." The nose wrinkled. She looked like a kid again. "Predators. Désordonné."

"Daworir," he agreed. Translated the Bothan word for messy into Mando'a without thinking about it.

Her face went wary.

"I maybe shouldn't be talking about this to you."

"Who are you going to talk to?" he asked, gesturing around.

Droids. Fekking droids.

"What are you going to do?"

"Pick up my guns, put a visor on you, and see what you can do with it."

"I mean the information."

He shook his head, looked away.

"Ad'ra. It's okay. You can talk to me about this stuff. I'm not in charge, so I'm not going to get my back up. I might get bent out of shape every once in a while, but it's safe to come to me. You can always ask me anything. Okay?"

She nodded.

"You won't yell at me anymore?"

"I didn't say that."

That made her lips turn sideways.

"That is an adorable expression and I hope, if I ever have children, that they don't do it."

"Why? If it's cute…"

"Cuter than a Twilek. Bad for being an effective parent, I would imagine." He tapped her nose. "Come on. We've still got shit to get done today."

"Where did you learn to cuss like a Corellian?"

"See… we're getting along and then you go and say something like that. Irmenu is so much more civilized than Corellia."

"Where's that?"

"Where I'm from. The dialects are completely separate and our annunciation is without fault."

She snorted.

.

They weren't going to get along.

Vau and Thiete' both had a squad of guys standing right next to a delegate of Ad'ra's and a couple of ARCs—somebody decided that a faux sha'kajir to teach them to hammer out a peaceful surrender and retreat would be good practice. Why the hell they thought a couple of squads of commandos or Rangers would be needed was beyond him—at least ARCs were expected to gain some actual rank. Some of his guys would, too, honestly. Just not most of them.

So it was a waste of time.

Plus, putting him opposite Thiete' with no reason to get along? Lousy idea.

He didn't hear the whistle, just the soft, wet A-THUNK of the hit. He'd been bent forward and registered the splatter on the side of his visor. It looked like blood. Sounded like blood. Felt like blood when the lad tipped backward.

Then he heard the screaming.

Not in front of him. Behind him.

AS Ranger RC-1078 caught his hand.

"It's fake," he said. Went back to pretending to be dead.

Thiete' lost it. Hit. The. Roof.

Vau was right behind him.

One of Ad'ra's kids was having a nervous breakdown on one of the railings. She was right beside the lad, her back to them so she could face him, trying to talk him down.

She had her glove on his arm, trying to get him to pick up the rifle.

She jerked it from him, nudged him with her hip. Sighted up.

Found herself staring right down the barrel of Walon Vau's.

"DROP IT, AD'RA!" he called.

"Like hell, Sergeant Vau. Get out of the way."

"Mine are real. How far are you willing to take this?"

She kriffing pulled the trigger. Dropped the other Ranger standing right beside him.

Was down, pulling the kid on the scaffolding with her.

"Oh, Marshal," he shook, shivered. Slobbered and snotted in his helmet. "I can't believe you really shot him. I can't believe you…"

"Honey. You and me need to bug out of here and right now. I'm going to need you to pull it together."

On the ground RC-1021 was rolling with laughter.

Vau reached down and slammed the butt of his rifle into the kid's chestplate.

The whole thing erupted in thick red.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Thiete' roared. "It's a sham?"

His kids, Vau's kids, and the ARC had drawn, charged their blasters, and taken defensive positions, the ones from Epsilon working to remove the plates before the kriffing child-actor had let them in on it.

"Good response, vode," the one he hadn't slammed the breath out of choked out. He was helping his friend up.

"I'm gonna kill 'er," Vau decided. Charged across the space and into the building to gain access to the fire escape system.

"Sgt. Vau, ma'am, and he's hot on your tail. Get out of there!"

"Unnecessary but appreciated, ner vod," her voice replied. "Get me some cover."

It worked. Vau couldn't help but flinch when the spire next to him exploded.

Lightning. It did it all the time. The lightning rods were supposed to contain it, channel it, but sometimes it didn't work out that way.

He narrowed his eyes. Kriffing convenient. It wasn't lightning. It was her blasted rangers and their pyrotechnics. He was sure of it.

There was a moment when he couldn't believe that she'd risk Fett's wrath by actually destroying part of the military training complex. Wondered how many of these things her little band of miscreants had rigged to blow. Wondered what else was rigged.

About then he looked up. Saw the shimmer of sparks ahead of him.

He was going to find her and he was going to kill her.

"How did you get in here?" he snapped hours later.

"Mird likes me," she told him.

She was sitting on the floor with the strill on her lap, her hands buried in the folds of skin.

"Your uniform is going to be covered in fur."

"I had to do it," she told him. "He couldn't do the live fire exercises. I told him he could do it as a sim-op."

"Against his friend?"

"They're not going to be given the luxury of having friends. We're so-"

"Solo acts. I am so sick of hearing that."

"Your guys responded really, really well."

"It's what they're trained to do."

"Will you tell them how grateful I am that they pulled Res with them?"

"I will not. That should be knee-jerk, too."

"No, it shouldn't. Not shot like that. He should have been tagged an X."

"How's the one you traumatized?"

"Asleep. We liberated some of Jango's stash."

"Jango keeps Benzodiazepines?"

"Jango keeps booze."

"Ah-ha."

"Are you going to stay mad at me?"

"How did you get the plates to hold like that?"

"We used the forms, filled them with that sauce they served for dinner a few nights ago. Attached them and painted them."

"So the whole surrender negotiation?"

"Convenient."

"Well. If there's anything I just love being, it's convenient," he bitched.

Slammed something else. From her vantage point in the floor she couldn't see what he was doing.

"You're a hazard. Somebody could have gotten seriously hurt or killed. I was looking for a target to take down."

She knew it. Didn't think he realized that he'd moved to stand in front of the clones who'd dropped.

Heartless her ass.

"Yeahhh… I didn't expect you to be there. But I needed to see it through."

"Which one was it?"

"The first takedown? 1078."

"The one I nearly fell to my death giving a chance to bloody his hands."

She snorted.

Rigging the scaffolding with saw-charges—as Harrod named them—had been genius. She was so glad they kept shit live when they went to the trouble.

"Bopp. You'd like him. He wants to be Mand'Alor after Boba."

"Why would that make me like him?"

"It wouldn't. They were two separate statements."

"Why did you pit my guys against Thieté's on the peace accords?"

"Because I knew you two would butt heads. You have one idea of honor and dignity, he doesn't."

"Doesn't have the same idea?"

"Doesn't have any."

He hated to agree with her. He didn't want to hate the guy. He was nowhere near as bad as Dread Priest and his little band of sadomasochists. Thiete' just didn't have a warrior's pride in his work, would never respect a fallen army.

"Are you hungry?"

"You have snacks?"

That perked her up.

The head shot up over the edge of his table.

"I always have snacks. I like real food."

"I'm always hungry. I like food."

He laughed. She reminded him of the lads.

The girls he remembered from home had eaten delicate little bites, dainty things with lace gloves balancing two strings of food on the tines of ineffective forks. The women of his chosen clan dug in. This one? Like a shark, he'd heard her described. Believed it. Never one to miss a meal. Always looking for the next one.

"Here, chop."

She rose and he considered her state.

"Wait. Go wash up. I don't want strill-seasoned meat."

He heralded her to his refresher, opened a drawer in the closet and handed her a t-shirt.

"You'll regret getting down there with him," he predicted as he turned. "That shit is harder than hell to get off of your clothes."

"Shab."

"Lesson learned."

"Sgt. Vau?" He looked back over at her. "That's all I was going for. He knows he can do it now. He can do the the sim-op. We ran it twice more tonight. It broke whatever block he had in his mind."

"What's going to happen when it's real, when he's in a line and it's his friend's head that explodes all over his bucket—not fake blood from some red sauce at three hundred yards?"

She lifted her shoulders and shook her head.

"We don't fight that way. If somebody gets a bead on us, there's no one there to know, to feel it, hear it or see it or tell anyone about it. When we go down on an op we just go down and no one ever hears from us again. That's it. Endex."

"That's a shitty way to teach the lesson."

"It's what it is. And it worked."

"I thought the kid was done. I was standing there, laughing a little because I thought Fett's ARCie was going to slot Thiete', and all of a sudden—in what should have been a safe place—I've got a kid's blood hitting the side of my hood, spraying all over me. It didn't feel like a drill. Didn't read like a set-up. I went droid and I turned around intending to take down before I was taken down."

"I know. I apologize."

"It won't happen again?"

"Not like that, no."

"Ad'ra…"

She bent her head to her task, mimicking the way he gutted and julienned the peppers.

"I have to teach them. My way. I can't do it like my da did me, taking each one out one-on-one on real-world ops. So I have to make my own. The sims aren't enough, Vau. They're not good enough. Not the same as feeling real rain hit you, hearing your own breathing in your can, and knowing that if the wrong person gets hold of the wrong weapon and gets a line on you that the best you can hope is that it only hurts a little to die."

He just seethed and thought about the point she was trying to make to him.

"I don't want to be part of this."

"I understand that and respect it."

"No more fake blood."

"That I will agree to. Might make something like it in a different color, though."

"I can live with that."

"And?"

"Apology accepted."

She smiled at him. Went to work on the hunk of meat he un-cryo-vac'd and flopped in front of her.

"Slice thinner. So they all cook evenly. Almost see-through. Watch…"