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Kayn came to with a pounding headache and disgruntled groan.
He instinctively clenched his fingers and toes, still able to move them despite the full body pains coursing through him. Opening the eye he had left, his tired vision settled on an unfamiliar ceiling. A tilt of his head revealed that he was laying on a sofa with a woman knelt between his legs.
It took a moment to process this, but Kayn mulled the thought of there being worse things to wake up to.
Though the image before him was very quickly ruined by the fact that there were a number of stitches on his bare chest that made even the thought of sitting up hurt. One of his pant legs had been partly torn to reveal his knee, purple and swollen like a small melon, braced upon the woman's shoulder as she bandaged up the length of his shin.
He squinted at her face, the shocking pink color of her hair reminding him of a missing mask. The woman who'd gotten him into this mess in the first place.
"YOU'RE CHEATING ON ME?!" a deranged voice rang over the intercom of the Morning Star.
"What-" Kayn started, seeing a flash of fuschia dart past him in the direction of his transport shuttle.
"Initiating air lock," the computer AI declared. Sweeping the mangled parts aside, he sprinted, catching her by the wrist just as she'd reached the small carrier.
"Surrender the craft," he declared, using Rhaast to pin her to the side of the hull. There was a flash of fear in her eyes, realizing she was caught.
And then the explosions began.
"You-" he hissed, propping himself up with shaky arms. There were still a few gaps in his memory from before the explosion, but did remember the woman had been insistent on leaving him to die.
"You mean the person who just saved you?" She didn't flinch, still focused on the pattern of the wrap.
"Captured," he corrected her, but made no effort to pull himself away. His suspicions were rising, but aside from the surgical scissors flecked with bits of red, there were no other signs of her being armed.
"You say tomato," she shrugged not quite denying it as the expression jostled his leg. "But if you'd rather be dead, I can arrange that, too."
Kayn scowled, but said nothing, trying to relax as she worked to compress the most swollen part of his knee. Clenching his teeth, he distracted himself by observing the room. It was likely he was on a civilian craft, since he hadn't heard any relays of communication upon waking, or voices from the corridors-
Wait.
Rhaast.
"Where is my weapon?" he demanded, surveying his surroundings with more urgency. The sentient scythe was nowhere in sight.
"Safe," was all she told him, gripping him by the calf so he might calm down. "But out of reach so you can't be hostile."
"Give him back to me," he demanded, glowering with clenched fists. "Or else."
She gave him a strange look, then shook her head. "I'll relinquish your weapon when I release you. Fair?"
"You pretend like I have a choice," he muttered as she anchored the end of the bandage above his knee. She set the limb down more gingerly than he'd expected.
"But you do," she stated, mouth pressed into a firm line, "I can throw you into the cell next to the bulkheads that don't get heat, or you can be grateful that I had the decency to fix you up and let you sleep on my couch."
"Not going to offer me your bed? Some host you are," he said wryly.
"We aren't even on a first name basis, Ordinal," she quipped. She wiped the blood on her hands with a clean towel before tossing something from her pile of supplies in his direction.
Kayn caught it, finding his military ID in his hands.
He quirked a brow, feeling slightly violated. "You stripped and robbed me?"
"Neither," she said immediately, but followed with a pause to actually give it some thought.
"I didn't strip you fully," she clarified. "And nothing was taken from you."
He wondered if the first part was supposed to make him feel any better, but a quick look through the bi-fold indicated she was telling the truth. He huffed, shoving the ID deep into his pocket as she propped some metal devices against the arm of the couch.
Another questioning look, "What are those?"
She gave him an odd look, "Crutches. So you can walk."
"I don't need them," Kayn insisted, kicking them over with his other leg before rising to his feet. "Take them away."
The woman gave him a once-over before jerking her chin a bit, "You should sit down."
"I will do no such thing," he opposed, taking some unsteady steps around the coffee table. He tried not to wince putting weight on his injured side, vaulting with the other to compensate.
"You're going to collapse," she said, noticing everything before she sauntered off.
Kayn scoffed, and then fell over.
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Kayn woke up and spent a few seconds thinking about leaping to his feet and impaling anything that moved.
But that would have required effort, being able to stand on both legs, and Rhaast.
Feeling something digging into his back, he found a stray remote control wedged between the cushions. Curious, he pressed the power button, projecting a monitor before him.
"Welcome, Irelia," the AI voice greeted, even though he clearly was not Irelia. Keeping the name in mind, he tried the different buttons until it displayed the ship's position, which was seemingly far from any Demoxian settlement.
With a grimace, Kayn rolled onto his side and turned on the television mode, idly flipping through the channels as his stomach began to twist with physiological need. Aside from the snacks she'd left on the coffee table while he was sleeping, he hadn't had an actual meal in days.
"Irelia," he tried the name the AI had given him, but the room responded with emptiness. He shifted, the crick in his spine almost more painful than whatever the hell was itching his abdomen. He didn't really want to check.
"Irelia," he whined again, more loudly this time, cursing when the woman not materialize. When he ran out of curses, he switched to those of the Dark Star, though all the hissing hurt his lungs, then followed by the few profanities he knew in Cosmic.
And even after all of that, Irelia was still not spoon-feeding him soup.
Which, he felt, wasn't wholly unexpected, but still a rip-off anyways.
If she were his captive, he would have made her soup.
Maybe.
Finally, faint steps were heard from the hallway before the door slid open to reveal the woman in question carrying a bundle of clothing in her arms. She looked over at him and frowned.
"Finally. Make me some soup." He ordered, retrieving one of the crutches from the floor to help prop himself up to a seat.
She set the change of clothes down, ignoring his request. "You seem capable of making your own."
"I'm dying, thanks," he snapped before coughing dramatically.
"We're all dying," she shot back, eyeing him as he examined the garments she'd brought. "Will they fit?"
He raised a brow, not remembering seeing anyone else on the ship thus far.
"Ex-boyfriend's?"
"Brother's," she immediately corrected. There was an almost unnoticeable twinge to her frown, but Kayn noticed.
"Hit a nerve, did I?" he questioned. "I see. Your life here is terrible, and as a result of deep childhood scars, the prospect of making tomato bisque is like being shot in the knee."
"Don't speak of things you don't know," she stated, shoulders stiffening.
"Giving commands as a method of restraining control? Oh, Irelia, you poor, broken flower."
Her brow twitched at her name, repressing the thought that was on her tongue.
"There's food in the fridge and a shower down the hall," she said evenly. "Don't go bleeding all over the ship while I'm gone."
"Where are you going?" he asked, finding it foolish of her to leave him by himself.
"I have a job," is all she said before turning to take her leave.
"You're a thief," he stated plainly. "That's not a job."
"For some of us, it has to be," she told him, eyes hardened as she secured her domino mask in place.
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He woke up to find himself level with Irelia's knees.
Which wouldn't be such a terrible view if he weren't so pissed off upon consciousness as of late.
"They weren't selling any soup," Irelia told him. There were circles under her eyes, making him wonder just how long she'd been gone for this time.
"I feel terrible."
She blinked. The deep-set fatigue made her eyes unnaturally glassy.
"You're free to sing me to sleep," he suggested, ignoring her own haggard appearance. "Encouraged, in fact."
Irelia snorted before grabbing him by the elbow, leveling him more-or-less upright, then dumped him back onto the couch.
"Gently!" Kayn wailed, which only made it hurt more. The woman ignored him, and shoved a bag of cheap takeout into his lap.
"Here," she said, and then to clarify, "For you."
Kayn investigated the carton, squinting at its contents. "Chow mein is supposed to heal my physical and emotional wounds?"
She said nothing as Kayn broke his pair of chopsticks unevenly, then proceeded to shovel the whole container down as quickly as possible. Despite his snide remarks, it didn't taste completely awful.
More likely, he was just starving.
On the other end of the sofa, Irelia had taken control of the remote, flipping it to what appeared to be a drama series.
"You watch this garbage?" he asked through a mouthful of noodles, unimpressed with the terrible acting and the uselessness of the woman being portrayed.
"It's not garbage," she insisted, getting comfortable and opening up her own container. "There's plenty of emotional depth if you watch."
He scoffed at her remark, but found himself oddly interested in what was happening, though he didn't know the entire plot of why this woman was living with her former boss.
"Why doesn't he just take the offer to marry her? It's obvious he loves her, too," Kayn asked, annoyed at how much torment poor Michiko was putting herself through.
"Because love isn't that simple," Irelia explained. He sent her a glance then, curious. The light from the projector placed a glow upon her face - Stoic, like she knew from experience.
He quickly turned his attention back to the television and the noodles in his lap, unwilling to pry.
The rest of the episode was spent in comfortable silence. As the credits began to roll, Irelia placed the empty cartons in a bag and started to retreat, but stopped. Her shoulders drooped before her fingers fidgeted.
"Is there...?"
"Yes," Kayn said immediately. "The coordinates of the Morning Star, and the password to your Pay Per View account so I can watch Ahri☆Live!! tomorrow night."
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If dying of boredom were a real thing, Kayn was certain he would have stopped breathing a long time ago.
The clock on the wall read two, when it should have said FOUR DAYS.
He'd nearly thrown the remote at the wall after secretly watching Please Love the Useless Me! From the beginning, when Irelia walked in, medical kit tucked under her arm
"Take off your shirt," she demanded.
"I was wondering when you'd finally ask," Kayn said smugly, leaning back in the most seductive pose possible given his fractured tibia.
"Shut up," Irelia ordered, needle poised upon her lip. "I need to fix your stitches. I was in a rush last time."
"It's fine," Kayn scooted back, holding the couch pillow between them. "You don't need to make an excuse to hide your very obvious attraction towards me, Irelia-"
"If you don't let me fix them," she interrupted sternly. "It'll take longer to heal. It'll be messy."
Kayn smiled crookedly, finally giving in to her demands. He tugged the zipper down, older scars running along and across the fresh, red cuts as he peeled the fabric away.
"What's one more?"
She remained silent after that, looking at him until he begrudgingly lay back onto the sofa. Kayn stared at the ceiling as the minutes passed. He tried not to swallow as her fingers skimmed across his wounds, stinging a few scabs along the way.
He wondered what she thought about all his scars, as her hands mapped them.
Probably nothing.
"How did you survive that?" Irelia asked suddenly, after she'd finished the last of her stitching. He took his hand out of his mouth, peppered with little greaves in the shape of his jaw. He thought she'd meant the prosthetic, but he realized she was pointing to the place just above his heart.
"I didn't," he said. "I was dead for two minutes."
After a second, she threw him his shirt back.
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Kayn's head hit the arm of the couch, which wasn't as soft as it appeared to be.
"Wake up," Irelia said, shaking his shoulder insistently. He floundered, one hand brushing against her chest before finding her shoulder. He pretended it didn't happen.
"What?!" he snapped. "Are we under attack?"
"I've finally made contact with your squadron, we're eight hours from the rendez-vous point," she informed him. "You should prepare your things."
It took Kayn moment to process this. She'd been trying to contact their military this whole time?
"Okay," he found himself saying.
Irelia nodded, but instead of immediately leaving like he'd expected, she stopped, arms crossed as she stood next to the coffee table.
"Thanks for being such a good meat shield," she said after a moment, expression softening.
He blinked, slightly confused. "Come again?"
"If it wasn't for you, I might've been the one with the broken leg," she informed him, shedding light on some of her motives.
"Is that why you took me in?" he asked, wondering if she would have left him for dead otherwise.
"Partly," she admitted. "But it was still the right thing to do."
The thought put him a bit more at ease, but the realization that he would soon be on his own ship and not this couch was only beginning to sink in. He eyed Irelia again, wondering how she would fare after he was gone.
"Join the empire of Demoxus," he told her then, thinking it to be a generous, but reasonable offer.
There was a pause, then a tilt of her head as if she hadn't heard him properly. "Excuse me?"
"I'll take you as part of my squadron," Kayn continued, completely serious. "It would be a better life compared to the one you have now."
Another pause, then laughter. But while her voice made it seem pleasant, Kayn failed to discern what was so funny.
"Is there something wrong?" he questioned, a heavy feeling settling in his chest.
The laughter stopped, a tad shaky at its end. Irelia's mouth twisted as if trying to find the proper words.
"With all due respect, Ordinal, I don't think the military is for me," she told him finally, cordially. But he could tell there was something else, something more, she was just unwilling to tell him.
"You should get some rest while you can," she said, abandoning the topic and giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "I'll bring your scythe when we get there."
As the mechanical locks closed, Kayn stared at the door a long while after it had shut, feeling let down somehow. He wondered how old she was, where she'd come from, and what she might be hiding.
Everything.
He reclined into the couch, thoughts filled with pink, and didn't fall asleep.