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The knock on the door of her quarters came, of course, at the worst possible time. Two grimaced and nearly jabbed herself with the needle. She couldn't see what she was sewing, was the problem. The knock came again, and she decided that whoever it was could just suck it up and deal with the sight of her in her underwear. "Come in," she called.
"So hey, boss lady, we need to talk about the ammo shipment we just picked up from the -- whoa, hold on, is this a bad time?"
Two, pressing her lips on a smile, looked up from the ragged line of stitches up the side of her half-disassembled bodice. Three had stopped in the doorway and she was amused to see that he was blushing faintly. "Oh, come on, it's not as if you've never seen breasts before," she said. "It's not as if you've never seen these breasts before." Not that she was entirely naked; she had a tight black undershirt beneath the partly-disassembled bodice. Not that she'd mind if she had been naked, but she wasn't sure if she was entirely prepared to admit it.
"Yeah," he said, glancing away, "but not in a while. You want me to -- go?"
"No, I can listen and do this at the same time." She twisted around to pick up another stitch. "You were saying, about the ammo?"
There was a grinding noise of mechanics as Three closed the door. "Right," he said, "so I think our contact on Bereth shorted us. Either that or those idiots can't count. It's not that anything's missing exactly, it's just that I keep opening cases that aren't completely full -- okay, I'll bite, what are you doing?"
Two glanced up as the bed dipped under her, Three sitting on the very edge of it.
"It's this top I picked up on Bereth," she explained, struggling with the needle. "Practical design, good vital-organ penetration coverage, lots of pockets to hide knives, but it has these obnoxious metal stays that keep digging into my skin. I decided to cut them out, and now I'm trying to --" She sighed as the latest stitch ended up nearly at right angles to the others. "-- sew up the holes. Preferably in a way that doesn't look like I did it while I was drunk."
"Might be easier if you weren't trying to sew it up on you."
"Tried that. Had to cut out a whole row of stitches. This is the the only way I can make sure it fits when I put it back on."
"You want some help?"
She looked at him over her shoulder. "Are you telling me you know how to sew?"
He flashed a quick grin. "Yeah, surprised the hell out of me, too. I guess it comes in handy as a mercenary, being able to sew up bullet holes and whatever. C'mon, shove over."
Two smiled and slid sideways on the bed so he could move into position next to her. "I'm still not entirely sure I trust that you know what you're doing --"
"-- makes two of us --"
"-- but you couldn't possibly do a worse job than I'm doing," she said, pressing the needle into his gun-callused fingers with the thread still trailing through the bodice snug around her ribs.
It was an admission of trust in a way that just letting him near her body could never have been. With her augmentations, she had no need to physically fear anyone. And, anyway, the days when she might have worried that Three would try to hurt her were long, long past.
But being incompetent at something, letting him know she wasn't good at it ... that didn't come easy.
And neither did relaxing and letting him take over with the needle. She had to force herself not to tense up as he bent his head over his work. He was close enough that she could feel his body heat, not quite touching her, but brushing against her as he moved. He rested his fingertips lightly against her skin through the fabric, holding it taut as he pulled the needle through with his other hand. He really was good at it, his hands as sure and deft as they always were on his guns. She wondered what odd quirk of his vanished past had led to learning this particular skill.
He smelled good, too, she couldn't help noticing. Familiar and nice.
"If I stab you with this thing," he murmured, "promise you won't kill me."
"No promises," she murmured back, and his shoulders jerked with a soft laugh, though his hands remained steady on the needle.
"So about that arms dealer on Bereth ..." he said after a moment, shifting to a new section of her shirt.
"We could go back and have a little chat with him for cheating us." Two smiled. "I wouldn't mind having a chat with the person who sold me this shirt while we're at it. Though I suppose it's the manufacturer I should really take it up with."
"And who's that?"
"Check the tag."
He had to lean his shoulder against her to do that, tugging out the back of the shirt. She didn't mind. "Volkov-Rusi Corp.? They're in clothing manufacturing too?"
"So it would seem."
"At least it's not Traugott or Ferrous."
"No, they haven't done anything to us lately." She picked up one of the discarded metal stays beside her on the bed and ran her thumb across its tip. "Except for this shirt, which is a crime against humanity."
"They're definitely going on the hit list, then." Laughter bubbled up in his voice.
"Damn straight."