Reva sat perfectly still. A glass of dark, viscous red liquid sat untouched near her hand. While, her crimson eyes were fixed on the black viewport.
"I am only 22 years old. And I am not his historian," Reva said, her voice like velvet dragged over gravel.
She took a sip of the red liquid, her lips staining slightly. "I know what he is, Kylus. I do not know who he was. If you want the tragedy, ask the wolf in the tank. Lyra carries his humanity. I only carry his kills."
Kylus grunted, unimpressed. "Great. So you are following a ghost with a god complex."
"He pays well," Rin muttered, shoving a spoonful of mash into his mouth. "And he doesn't ask stupid questions."
The meal ended in a heavy silence. The tension of the mission, the waiting, and the dying girl in the med-bay hung over them like a shroud.
They moved to the lounge area. Kylus lit a cigarette, ignoring the glare from Vea. Rin went back to sharpening his long, serrated blade.
The blast doors hissed open.
