I think my faculties are starting to shut down. Just as I thought, I'm having trouble focusing on the words in front of me. It feels like I've been sitting here for an hour, and I'm barely five pages into the story I picked. Now I'm at the point where I'm basically just staring at the blocks of text. I've sunk more into the chair, resting my head against the cushion. My stomach won't shut up, and in this quiet room, it's getting increasingly irritating, not to mention more painful. My head is pounding. I'm on edge. This is torture…

A soft pap signals the closing of Shadow's book, then I hear muffled footsteps approaching. As miserable as I feel, I almost wish he would just take me out; he could probably do it in an instant. But he asks a question I can barely be bothered to answer: "Are you enjoying your book?"

What is his angle here? This is all so weird, and after a year of fighting, I can't believe he's talking to me like this. I wonder if I'm really even alive right now or if I've slipped into some sort of coma, living in a fever dream where my enemy isn't out to rip me limb from limb. Is this what starvation does to a person…?

"No," I mutter, just before my stomach complains again. I stay still because my only comfort is the rest I'm able to have simply sitting in this chair.

There's silence for a few beats. Then one of the hedgehog's hands floats into my field of view, and he grabs the novel I'm holding. It slips out of my hands and I let it go, really feeling the desire to sleep taking over. My eyes close even though I don't want them to. I hear a light rustling sound coming from my captor, but I don't even care what he's doing – until something touches my hand, and I open my eyes again.

It's… a cookie?

I blink, certain I'm seeing things. But, no… it really is a cookie, dotted with chocolate chips and wrapped in thin plastic. He's holding it, touching it to my fingers.. I have to be dreaming.

"It's time we got you something to eat, isn't it?" he says. "Have this for now."

He waits for me to grip the snack and then lets go. It feels real enough, actual food. I guess he doesn't want to chance me dropping dead. And I'm in no position to refuse, so I unwrap the cookie and take a bite. It's good; really good. It tastes homemade. Soft and sugary–

"I'm getting hungry myself," he announces, "so I suppose this is as appropriate a time as any to have lunch. Well, it will likely be closer to dinner once the food is ready. Join me, and you can have a proper meal."

Instinctively through my chewing, I respond, "I'd rather get a nutrient injection."

Shadow is quiet again, and his stare prompts me to glance his way. There's a dissatisfied expression on his face, one eyebrow cocked low as he frowns at me. That's right, I essentially have to do what he says… keep the Robotniks happy, or else they'll ruin my life further. So, I swallow the bite I took and rescind my answer to begrudgingly agree.

"Actually, I didn't mean that. I would like a real meal."

He nods, placated, and turns around to place the books back on the shelves while I finish the little bit of food that's supposed to hold me over. At least the sugar will give me a boost, one that should allow me to hold out until I get a decent plate in front of me. I just hope they actually give me a whole plate, and don't force me to operate in a sluggish state. I won't be much of a teacher if I can't think straight. But it seems Shadow might actually understand that if he's giving me snacks.

My head still hurts, but by the time I finish eating, I feel a tiny bit better. I can stand from the chair without feeling like I might faint. The Experiment returns to me and his eyes trail down to my arm just before he grabs it. He can't trust me to walk of my own volition, of course. But, I'd rather his hand be gripping my arm than cupping my back. Things are bad enough already; I don't need to also endure weirdly intimate touches from him.

He readjusts his red ascot, and for a second I think he's going to take it off, so I ask snidely, "Are you going to blindfold me again?"

A smug expression paints his face and he replies, "Should I?"

I can feel one corner of my mouth pinching downwards in contempt. It's annoying how calm and arrogant he is, turning everything back around on me now that he has the upper hand. I'm so used to being able to rile him up with one line, or otherwise just being the one to keep my cool the longest. He was always irked by banter during our battles. Now he almost seems like a pro at it. Maybe that's a testament to his comfort in this place. A castle in his own name; of course he'd be in his element here. I don't like it.

When I don't bite back with anything else, he starts to walk and nudges me along with him. His grasp is still gentle, and it reminds me that he must think I'm extremely frail by now. I stay quiet as he leads me out, thinking of how I could get away with acting more fragile than I am. If I pretend to faint, would he bring me to a medical room? I'd probably get a nutrient injection then, and be able to skip the one-on-one dinner. That would be a little bit better, given how much time I'm already expected to spend with the Ultimate Lifeform.

What if he brought me to Robotnik, though? That's riskier. I'm pretty sure he trusts the Doctor completely, so if the human decided I was more trouble than it's worth, it's not like Shadow would reject the idea of simply getting rid of me. Avoiding personal time with the hedgehog is very tempting, nearly enough for me to just try it anyway. But damnit, the alternative gnaws at my psyche the second I almost move to fake a fainting spell. Great, now my fears are controlling me? Yet another new thing to face in this pit.

Fine, I'll dedicate myself to remembering the castle's layout instead. My eyes dart around every new hallway we walk down, and I repeat the sequence of turns in my head from where we came. I also try my best to remember the layout in accordance with the paths I've already taken. It's difficult, but I'm forming a map in my mind. The most important thing to remember is the vent above the library door. That's my first option of escape – one of very few, seeing how barely any of the walls have vent access.

Shadow takes me a confusingly winding way through many halls, but I only see two more vents the entire way. There's one outside of what I'm guessing is a storage room, judging by the big plain gray door shutting it off. And there's one above the sliding glass door of an indoor garden, where strange-looking plants are being grown in makeshift pots. I have to memorize those locations, if nothing else, because I'll be desperate for them if things get bad enough where I'm forced to make a run for it without an escape plan.

I'm grateful to the infinite universe for the silence as we walk. Shadow isn't trying to talk to me, and that's such a great favor in the trial of mapping out Eggman's lair. I almost want to ask why he isn't teleporting us, but I would never let my curiosity outweigh my intelligence. I need as much info as I can get, even if it doesn't stay crystal clear in my head. As far as silver linings go, this one is noticeable. I even realize I forgot about Shadow's grip on my arm; and with my hope lifted a little more, I don't even mind it right now.

We reach what can only be the dinner hall, a rectangular room with an open entrance through a golden archway. Goodness, Robotnik really got fancy with some of these interior design choices. I underestimated just how obsessed he's apparently become with this lavish style. Not that I wouldn't do the same… but I'm surprised at his taste. Past the doorway, there's a long table which looks to be made of dark mahogany. But oddly, it's entirely devoid of chairs, except for two on the far end.

I sneer and nearly groan when I realize: they purposefully removed all the other chairs so I would have to sit next to Shadow. I can't believe how petty that is! I'm already bound by whatever whim this spiny henchman decides to burden me with! This is just salt in the wound. I try not to think of the worst things he could ask of me during this godawful arrangement. I'd have no choice but to die fighting in a worse situation.

He leads me to the table and I comment, "Only two chairs? Did you want to sit next to me that badly?"

A huff leaves him, the sound halfway between a scoff and a chuckle. "Does it bother you? I thought we could reminisce about our past year of being at odds. I have to rub it in your face that we've won, considering your previous overconfidence. Maybe I wouldn't if you hadn't been so full of hubris."

"Hm, I thought that kind of behavior would be beneath you," I respond as he has me sit. A corner juts between the chairs, meaning he'll be sitting diagonally from me at the head of the table; not directly next to each other but essentially face-to-face.

"Then today you learn that I enjoy savoring my victories." He picks up a small bell from the table while he sits, then rings it. Its chime echoes out in the spacious room.

I keep my eyes off him when I rebut his response, making my voice lighter so I don't sound as combative. "That is news to me. Maybe because I've never seen you win."

He places the bell back down and I can see in my periphery that he laces his fingers together, propping them up on bent elbows to hover in front of his face. I expect he's also looking at me; but I don't hear any malice in his following tone. "Neither of us had been victorious until now, Rouge. Our fights were always a long-pondering question of who would inevitably lose. As I said before, I never expected it would take this long – but I always knew I would win."

My brows furrow a bit and I let out a little breath of dissatisfaction through my nose, trailing my gaze even farther from him. He's so arrogant. I avoided being bested by the Ultimate Lifeform for an entire year. That's worth a glowing commendation! But now I know he, like me, never considered it a win or a loss if one of us had to retreat. We both did that plenty of times, sometimes because one of us was getting in too many lucky punches and sometimes because our bosses ordered us back. So me getting captured does mark the first victory between us. And oh, how I despise that he's claimed it…

A robotic minion enters the room through the second doorway, one that leads somewhere else. It's what I can assume would be known as a 'servant bot,' built to take care of personal needs like the meal we're about to have. It walks up to the table, its rust-colored body round and its height not much taller than the table. Its voice is grating when it asks, "How may I serve you?"

"We will require a meal substantial enough for two," answers the hedgehog. "Make it baked chicken, and add sliced potatoes on the side. Water to drink. Also, bring me a vial of lemon juice, freshly squeezed."

I roll my eyes at his entitlement while he isn't looking. The man's monotone delivery is almost as bad as his smugness. Here he is, being treated like a prince by one of his master's inventions just outside of helping Robotnik in his scheme to take over the world. No one would turn down the chance to be served if asked; but tack on the condition that they have to harm, imprison, or otherwise torture innocent people and most would pass easily. Not the Experiment. He enjoys these luxuries as payment for doing his boss' evil bidding. I'm no saint either, but he isn't just some rich jerk with questionable morals. Their goals really are evil.

The bot voices an affirmation and walks away, then Shadow looks me over and says, "You've been in those clothes for days now."

I turn to him, offense building in an instant, because no shit! His beloved Doctor had me locked up that whole time! But I'm not as worried about the cleanliness of my outfit as I am about the skin underneath it. My body doesn't deserve to feel grimy! I would rather a shower than a change of clothes, if I had to choose.

And then, as if he's read my mind and decided to taunt me with the opposite, he adds, "We should give you something nicer to wear, lest you continue to be so much more underdressed than me."

My eyebrows furrow more deeply and I frown at him. "I don't need your fancy clothes, and I won't let you talk down about the way I dress." One of his brows raises, but he doesn't frown back, and I continue, "I would much rather take a shower than put on anything that comes from here."

While I claim that – and it's absolutely true – the gears in my materialistic mind start to turn. I don't want to wonder about what kind of vestments they might have for a lady to wear… but looking at Shadow's attire, I have to admit it wouldn't be the worst style of clothing to be stuck in. Still, I don't want to give up my own clothes to the Robotniks, dirty or not. I certainly don't plan on losing my favorite outfit to my worst enemies.

A whisper of a smile touches the hedgehog's lips. "Perhaps you can earn the privilege of a shower once you've taught the first lesson."

I wonder how the hell he can stand being near me, or be okay having a lesson before I bathe, because I must smell disgusting. Unless he's been holding his breath this whole time, he either has a high tolerance for bad scents or… actually, I'd rather not think about the other possibility. Hell, he's such a 'perfect' being, I wouldn't be surprised if the inside of his nose has its own filtration system.

The servant bot returns with two glasses of water, placing them on the table and turning to Shadow when he starts to speak. "I trust the food is being prepared?"

"Correct."

"Good. Now, while we wait, I have another task for you." He motions to me, which gains me the robot's attention. "Give our guest some new clothes; hers are… unsatisfactory."

He flashes a smirk and I glare at him while the minion grabs my wrist. It's not nearly as gentle as my captor when it pulls me from the chair, almost making me knock my seat over when I'm forced onto my feet.

"Hey!" I exclaim, but I'm pushed off to the side of the room near a thin door I hadn't seen before.

The robot opens it and ushers me into what is basically a closet. What kind of weirdos have a closet connected to their dining room? Robotnik truly is mad. Before I've even made peace with where I am, the servant pulls off my gloves, and the panic that rushes through me makes me throw my arms around my body.

"Woah, hold on! I can undress myself, I don't need you ripping my clothes off!" I tell it.

The thing may be just a robot, but I still want some privacy! Being out of Shadow's sight is the bare minimum; I don't want a mindless creation of Eggman's changing my outfit for me.

"My speed is calculated to be three times more efficient than yours," it states blankly, then yanks off my boots before I can even begin to bargain.

It doesn't wait for me to argue back, undressing and redressing me within ten seconds; though I try to object, I really don't have any autonomy, as it's so quick and not careful with shoving new garments on me. My annoyance is doubled by the end of it, which doesn't help my headache.

"Clothing rotation complete," it says, turning to pick up my outfit from the floor.

I gaze down at myself to get a better look at what it dressed me with. Nothing as fancy as what the hedgehog is wearing, but it is a dress. The skirt is made of two tiers, the bulk of it a simple black fabric – not luxurious, so maybe cotton? – partially covered by a layer of green cloth on top. A black cinch is hugging my waist, which makes the white bodice of the dress look like a blouse. It feels a little nicer than the skirt, thick waves of relaxed ruffles shielding my chest and long trumpet sleeves covering my arms. I actually prefer it, in a way, because the wide collar allows my shoulders to be hidden. It isn't terrible. In fact… it does look cute. And as fond as I am of heels, the green flats on my feet are fine, too. Not special, but fitting.

The robot pulls me out of my distraction when it raises a small bottle in front of the dress. One press on the neck of it spritzes a flowery scent that takes me by surprise. "Ah! Don't spray perfume on me, you brainless thing!"

But there's no fighting the sweet-smelling mixture clinging to my new outfit. Without a word, the minion opens the door and walks out with my old attire. I rush after it. "Wait! Don't take my clothes!"

For the first time, I'm physically startled and halt in place when I see Shadow standing nearby the door. But I turn away from him and try to follow the robot stealing away my favorite outfit. "Give that back!"

A hand firmly grabs my arm and stops me. The bot leaves through the archway and I glance back to see my enemy's neutral stare. I try to tug out of his grip, protesting, "I don't trust that thing walking off with my stuff!"

"Nothing will happen to your clothes," he claims. "They're just going to wash them, and you'll have them back later."

I give him a doubtful look through the furrow of my brows. I don't trust anything in this castle. But with Hasty Hedgehog denying me freedom to move on my own, I can't exactly have my way.

"They better not ruin my best outfit," I groan, relenting to return to the table.

His grasp loosens, but his hand sticks to my arm longer than it needs to – like he doesn't want to let go. I understand being distrustful when I could turn and run at any moment, but he should also know I'm not stupid enough to try and outrun him.

"The servants don't do anything we don't tell them to," says Shadow. "They have no reason to do something that hasn't been ordered of them, so stop worrying."

That sounded like irritation in his voice. So, he is bothered beneath the surface. I can still get under his skin, even here. That's good to know.

We sit back down and wait for the food. My stomach is still singing its desperate song, so I grab the water glass; for a second, I pause when I raise it to my lips. No, they wouldn't poison me… they can't afford to. I let the pleasant coldness of the drink rejuvenate me a little more. Right away, I feel its healing effect, enjoying the happy chill that runs through my body when it's finally gifted with precious water. I definitely went too long without it.

Shadow is watching me, even as I ignore him. Looking for a sign of weakness? Or maybe for a sign of compliance. Maybe he's already studying me to see how a normal person acts. Whatever the case, I just want to eat and get this over with. The sooner I can see more of the castle, the sooner I can plan some kind of escape. Hopefully I can knock him off his guard to slip away and make it inside a vent. I'll have to keep an eye out for options every step of the way.

"Did you choose those vestments?" the dark host suddenly asks.

One of my brows lowers when I look over at him. "What? No. You should know your servant chose it for me."

His dull expression doesn't change, but he's fiddling with the bell, slowly rolling it in his hand in what looks like a self-soothing motion. It dings very quietly when it shifts position in his palm. He might be thinking of ringing it again to give another self-serving command.

"Of course," he utters in a low tone. His voice is really subdued, like he'll drop it to a whisper at any moment. "I suppose I can't blame you, then, for such a simple choice. He could've picked better… but The Doctor never bothered to build a follower with an exceptional sense of style."

"Maybe he should," I respond flatly, and lean into the chair more. I just want food, not this idle conversation.

My eyes drag away from him and he says, "I will have to mention it."

As if. He's just spouting bullshit to fill the dead air. But I'd rather things be silent between us. So, I wait quietly and ignore him again; and Shadow must be out of things to say, because he keeps his mouth shut, too. I guess Robotnik was right about him not being a good conversationalist, at least outside of taunting his victim. If he was going to act as an entertaining host, he would need much more interesting things to talk about and a way livelier personality. It'll be tedious trying to make that happen. Hopefully I don't have to teach him for very long before I can get out.

We aren't left waiting too much longer. Before I know it, the second doorway is opening and the robot enters the room again, this time holding two silver platters with rounded covers. I can see steam seeping from them, and the smell of chicken slowly wafts into the room. It perks up my mood and I sit straight in my chair, trying not to show too much enthusiasm – but I feel my mouth wanting to salivate at what I know is a meal underneath that shiny silver. The servant places Shadow's dish first, then mine, and wastes no time lifting the covers to let the magnificence of beautifully baked chicken grace my eyes and nose.

I expect some sort of corny line from the minion, but it doesn't say anything. It just places silverware on the table and walks away with the dinner lids, leaving us to our plates. Shadow grabs his utensils first while I'm still relishing the reality of the food in front of me; the skin of the meat looks crispy but tender, and I can only imagine how soft and juicy the actual meat underneath is. The potatoes look nice, too, sliced into golden disks in a row on one side of the plate.

Once I swallow my hunger and reach for the silverware, my captor speaks up. He's already cutting into his portion. "Are you surprised that a machine could make something so delectable? Because I was too, at first."

He raises a cut of chicken to his mouth, staring down at it as if he's committing its appearance to memory. "The Doctor has made many impressive things, I've come to learn."

I'm unnerved by the softness in his tone, silently preparing to cut my first bite as he trails bright red eyes to mine. "You and he are the only ones who've ever managed to surprise me."

The eye contact he holds while he takes the food in his mouth sends a chill through me, but I can't pin down the emotion that caused it. Surely not fear; he isn't intimidating me. He isn't threatening me either, so it can't be anxiety. It just feels… uncanny to hear him speak so gently. The mannerisms he's choosing to show are not something I've come to expect from him. But I should probably keep him talking, so I can focus on eating and not be expected to participate in this conversation as much.

"What do you mean by that?" I ask, feigning ignorance and curiosity as I cut out a big chunk of chicken. "What did I do to have that in common with Eggman?"

He places down his utensils and finishes his bite, then dabs his mouth with a napkin. My conscience wills, 'Keep up with those manners, Project. The longer you take to make your point, the better.'

"I thought you would be smart enough to know it already," he drawls, picking up the little vial of lemon juice to sprinkle it over his meal.

I'm not even bothered by the insult. I'm more worried about stuffing my face with all the calories I can get as quickly as possible, swiftly but subtly enough that he won't pick up on what I'm doing. This is life or death, survival or suffering – and I don't know how often they plan on feeding me. If it's only once a day, then I need as much of this fuel in me as I can get, quickly so I can fit more in my stomach before I get full. I wish I could savor it. It's so delicious, I wish I could let it sit in my mouth and have the flavor linger on my tongue. But enjoying my food isn't a luxury I have right now. Thankfully, Shadow isn't paying attention to my habits. He's distracted by the explanation he's about to give me.

"Every day that you defied me was a surprise. Every fight you entered against me was a show of fortitude, if also of foolishness. Each time we parted, I thought that surely you wouldn't return; either having been beaten badly enough that you didn't want to risk your life anymore, or coming to your senses in realizing that you couldn't defeat us."

My food is dwindling quicker than his while he returns the half-empty vial to the table and reclaims his utensils. He isn't looking at me, though, or at my plate. His gaze is glued to what he's doing. And he goes on.

"Whatever your reasoning, you never surrendered. It was… baffling to me, for a time." He raises another slice of food, letting it hover. "But I realized that was a quality I saw in both of you. I realized that even if The Doctor wasn't destined to change the world, and even if his power wasn't so great… he would never stop striving towards his goals."

His lips part as he prepares to eat again, then he pauses and adds, "I admire that," before taking his second bite.

So he admires that Robotnik never gives up? That I never gave up? That can't be all of it… because what about Sonic? He never gave up, either. I mean, he was captured in a box, locked in a cage – he didn't have as much room to breathe as me. But the second he was able to fight, he did! Yet, Shadow didn't seem to respect him. When they fought, he sounded disdainful. Scornful, even. Like he considered Sonic worthless; and he's spoken to me that way too, in the past… but now he's contradicting himself?

I continue chewing on the sizable chunk of food I just put in my mouth, and the ensuing silence apparently lasts too long for the Experiment's liking. He meets my gaze again and says, "I feel I've learned more about your determination in the year we've fought than I ever would've otherwise. I must admit, it's interesting to see how lesser lifeforms work. But something does still puzzle me about your alliance."

I raise my brows, actually curious now about where he's going with this. It's obvious how desperate he is to figure out the functions of a less twisted mind, which almost gives him hope to improve. If we wasn't so brainwashed, I would think he could change. But considering all the horrific things he's helped Robotnik do, and all the people he's hurt with his bare hands, I'm not optimistic that he'll suddenly admit it's all wrong. And even if he doesn't actively enjoy ruining lives – I used to think he did, but it's looking more and more like he's simply apathy personified – he still has no qualms about wiping entire civilizations from existence. He's convinced it will create a better world. He thinks his master is a visionary.

He asks, "Why are you so loyal to your superiors? Those overlanders who oppose The Doctor. From what I've learned, you're nothing more to them than an employee; I see no personal obligation or familial bond keeping you indebted to them." He starts gesturing a bit and his cadence becomes more lively. This is what he's getting passionate about? "Time and time again, they sent you up against the strongest being ever created. Did they have so much faith in your abilities that you wouldn't die by my hand? Can you really trust that those humans had your best interest in mind when they sent you to your potential death?"

His hands ball into fists and he lowers them to rest on the table, staring me down with intent and leaning in to ask his final question with what sounds like genuine contempt for my squad. "Can you trust that they're looking for you now?"

I almost swallow my food before I'm ready to, having to stop myself before I choke. I raise my own napkin in front of my mouth, bracing my other hand against the table while I think. That's one hell of a question. A loaded question, stacked on top of realizations I've been having myself since I've been trapped here. I regret that it took getting captured to realize G.U.N didn't really value me like they claimed, like they should've. So, I'm not on good terms with them now; not like they realize it, with no way for me to communicate my growing bitterness towards the way they took my talents for granted. But, when it comes to the question of why I stuck with them for so long… well, I liked the world the way it was. Free of Eggman's dominance.

I'm not exactly a love-and-peace kind of lady, but my way of life would be disturbed too much if he took over entirely. How many jewel deposits would he dig up and keep for himself, leaving no gems for me to hunt and add to my own collection? How many robots would be swarming around every corner trying to stop me from doing what I want? I couldn't work for Robotnik, not long term. He's too bossy, too egomaniacal, throws too many tantrums, and he cares too much about things I have no interest in. At least being the best agent in G.U.N, I could call some of the shots and even go off on my own if I was stubborn enough to get something done more efficiently.

But the answer of how loyal G.U.N is to me was always up for debate. Now that I've been taken prisoner, it's clear they never cared for my life quite as much as they said. I really was just a number. An important number, but a number nonetheless. And if I died, I wouldn't exactly be cannon fodder… but I think I could bet now that with me out of the fight, they're more concerned about the disadvantage of having lost my skills than they are about my well being. They're not my family. In the end, it was just a job.

However, my new feelings towards G.U.N don't cancel out my desire to retain freedom in the world. Even if I don't stand with them, I still don't stand with Eggman, either. But maybe I can use that. I might be able to chip away Shadow's guard some more if I let him think he's swaying me. Just a little bit, and I'll resist his ideals enough that I'm not feeding his zealousness. So, I take a deep breath as I let my food settle in my stomach, then wipe the napkin across my lips and lightly clear my throat.

"No… I can't. I've been thinking about that. They…" I breathe out a sigh and let my eyelids sink as I stare at my food, acting disappointed. "They did seem to take my talents for granted. I have no way of knowing how serious they are about finding me."

He's quiet, and when I glance his way, he picks up his silverware again. I take the chance to also get back to eating when he responds, "I know how selfish some humans can be; especially them."

I want to counter, 'But Robotnik is charitable, right? Locking up all those people was the right thing to do?' It's rich that this hypocrite thinks G.U.N are worse than them.

"I don't know what The Doctor's plans are for you once your tasks are complete, but be grateful that as long as you're here, you don't have to fight," he finishes, then takes a bite to continue his meal.

He really has no self-awareness if that's what he thinks. As if I'm not fighting right now, just to stay alive by not pinching a nerve and being sent to the gallows. I have the threat of torture, roboticization, electrocution, and imprisonment behind me. He actually believes things are better for me because we aren't punching each other? And what's more, he thinks he can turn me against the world and onto their side. Even Eggman's ploy of threatening me to get what he wants is less delusional. But, if Shadow thinking I'm more useful alive than dead raises my chances of avoiding the grave – or a metal tomb – then I'll let him believe what he wants. It won't change how misguided I think he is, but he never has to know that.

While we eat in relative silence, I keep catching sight of something that unnerves me more over the course of dinner. Every now and then, I feel the ick of eyes on me, and when I glance at the hedgehog, I see a split second of this weirdly soft look on his face. He changes it so quickly back to his typical boring expression that I can't really gauge what's behind his gaze, but I think it's pity. I can guess he feels bad for me, the poor captured damsel whose own team doesn't value her! Which is surprising, for him. But he's likely enjoying it too, just to keep from being too sympathetic.

He probably does think that G.U.N won't bother to search for me at all; though, I know that even if they don't act right away, they will try to find me. They can't go too long without my help, not against Eggman. And Sonic's not around to protect anybody, so they'll be completely screwed if they don't get at least one of us back. Shadow thinks they'll abandon me, though. That's what I gather from the barely-conceivable look in his eyes whenever I catch him staring. It bugs me more than something like that should, so I have a hard time ignoring it. Does he really have to keep looking at me? Can't he keep his gaze to himself? It's driving me up the wall!

'Just breathe,' I tell myself. 'Just eat. You've got this.'