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Rule Two [Lion]

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Lion:
If only the fuzz in his brain would go away. If only the ringing in his ears would just stop. And if only that shrew of an AI would just shut the fuck up. Because other wise, dealing with Mr. Captain Savior Man over here would be easy peasy booby squeezy. Grisham’s hand on the rifle almost buckled with the effort he needed to concentrate. But at least leaning on the skiff helped mitigate that. Ugh, for once in his life he was glad he got divorced.

This guy…whatever his name was, he was all right. Straightforward and to the point. He could deal with that. It was easier to know what the intention was without a harpy cawing down at him. But just when Grisham was about to respond, the harpy showed up. And not even the hot Kiers sister either.

Grisham was too irritated to focus, and the drowsiness of not having eaten and drank anything decent for the last…however long…was starting to get to him. He could shoot the guy, probably would if he gave him a reason too, but then that damn AI would likely take command of the ship in the event of his likely death, and throw him out the airlock.

Those weren’t good odds for getting back.

Maybe finding a way to override her sorry annoying ass was ideal, then he could kill him, and commandeer the ship back to Aedolis.  Yeah, that seemed like a much better idea. In either case Grisham had a hard time believing that this ‘good samaritan’ just didn’t happen to want anything. Because that was either true and he was biggest idiot in this quadrant of the galaxy. Or he was really shit at taking prisoners.

Grisham pushed himself from where he laid perched against the skiff, only holding the rifle halfway up, but clearly having no intention to fire. He walked passed Kyrian, and gave the holographic image of the ship’s AI a half-grinned sneer. “Boy I do not miss that. Call off your wife, then we can talk,” he growled, easing the gun down against his chest and having enough energy to cross the flight bay.  The logos on his flight suit and armor were evident, he wasn’t going to take them off just yet. Nor was he going to allow himself to be disarmed.

Paladienne:
“Wife?” Midian started. “I’m not his-“

“Stop.” Kyrian snapped, his low voice a thunder-crack despite its monotone. “That’s enough.”

The look in her eyes warned him that he was treading on thin ice. Well, that was just fine, because Kyrian felt like he was already treading on thin ice anyway, what with their “guest” giving him what amounted to an order. The way he carried himself, despite his exhaustion, was that of a proud man, a man who expected his orders to be followed, who expected to be obeyed. Kyrian recognized the way the man walked past him as being predatory, the swagger of his step exposing those logos emblazoned upon the man’s flight suit and armor like a wolf exposed his teeth to warn off potential enemies. A silent warning of the potential danger, as if the gun wasn’t deterrent enough.

Kyrian quite disliked being threatened, silently or otherwise. But, he knew he’d already made it seem as if he wasn’t much of a threat to the man, that he was either an idiot, a fool, or both. Better to play along until he had no other choice but to reveal what he was, and what he was capable of.

Kyrian quickly signed a few words to Midi, and it was with a huff that her image flickered out of existence. He knew she was still watching, still listening. Kyrian couldn’t be sure if the man had figured out that Midi was the ship, the vessel’s own sentience, and not just a typical AI, but there was no reason to reveal that secret, either, if he hadn’t figured it out. Let the man believe what he would. He had his secrets and Kyrian would keep his. No point in sharing if neither were interested in learning, after all.

No point in offering up the information if there was nothing really to gain by it, either.

There wasn’t much in the hanger to be used as common furniture, mostly large crates that were tied or bolted down or smaller crates kept still by thick netting, so Kyrian wasn’t quite sure what the man’s intentions were, or where he thought he was going. Anything more comfortable wouldn’t be found here, but rather in the deeper interior of the ship, and Kyrian wasn’t about to start escorting this stranger through his home until they figured out what kind of deal they were going to make and had irrevocably agreed to it. But, ever cautious, Kyrian followed the man across the hangar, keeping the same amount of distance between them as one would a rattlesnake, out of striking distance but still close enough to hear that telltale rattle and know possible death was lurking nearby. Even a hunting hawk had to beware when taking on something that dangerous, despite the fact the hawk’s talons could cut faster than the snake’s fangs.

“All right,” Kyrian said after enough silence had passed, “let’s talk.”

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