The desert night was colder than Wang expected. The red-hot sun that had tried to kill him earlier was long gone, replaced by a sky full of stars sharp enough to cut. Crickets chirped in the distance, and the fire crackled softly nearby.
The woman squatted beside him, tearing open a foil wrapper with her gloved hands. Her silhouette was outlined by the firelight, that long braid hanging off her shoulder, hat tossed lazily onto the ground beside her pistols. She was still armored—physically and emotionally—but Wang noticed she'd taken off her coat. Beneath it, she wore a tight black tank top, her arms dusted with faint scars and sunburns.
"Alright," she muttered, tearing the bar in half. "You're not gonna bite me, yeah?"
Wang shifted, tied up against a rock with his ankles bound and arms behind him. The gag was off, but only after he promised not to yell, scream, or "talk shit."
"I won't bite," he said, voice hoarse. "Unless it tastes like cardboard. In which case, I make no fuckin' promises."
"Cute," she said flatly. She held out a piece of energy bar—just far enough he'd have to lean to reach it, like feeding a stray dog.
He leaned, bit off the chunk, and chewed.
"...Jesus Christ," he said with his mouth full. "You kidnapped me for ten grand and you're feeding me prison food?"
She smirked faintly. "Ten grand doesn't buy five-star hospitality."
He swallowed and raised an eyebrow. "But it does buy desert camping with a hot woman and tactical restraints. If this was a kink scenario, I'd say you're laying it on a bit thick."
She rolled her eyes and offered another piece. "Save your charm for someone with brain damage."
"Oh, c'mon," Wang said, grinning as he chewed. "You've got me all tied up in the middle of nowhere, and you didn't just put a bullet in my head when the bar pulled guns on you. That's got to count for something."
She looked at him for a long second, then tossed the rest of the bar onto his lap.
"I like my targets quiet, not flirty," she said. "And I don't shoot unless I'm getting paid for it. That's not mercy, that's math."
"Still... you didn't leave me behind."
Cass stood and walked back to the fire. She poked at it with a stick, not turning to face him.
"Because you're worth more alive. That's it. Nothing personal."
Wang leaned his head back against the rock. "Everything's personal. You just don't like admitting it."
A pause.
Then, from the fire: "You talk too much."
He grinned. "Most charming fugitives do."
She chuckled—barely—under her breath. A tiny, involuntary sound. The firelight flickered across her face as she finally looked over her shoulder at him.
"You really think that charm offensive is gonna melt me?"
"Worth a shot," he said with a shrug. "Besides, it's cold. I figured a little warmth might help."
Cass narrowed her eyes but didn't shoot him down this time. Instead, she walked back over and crouched in front of him again.
"You don't even know what you did, do you?" she asked, eyeing the scarf still wrapped around his neck.
Wang swallowed and shook his head. "No memory before waking up in a metal box. I got a letter on my neck and everyone looks at me like I ate a fuckin' baby."
She studied him. Searched his face.
"I don't believe in sob stories," she said finally. "But... you're either the best liar I've met—or the unluckiest bastard on this whole rock."
"Maybe I'm both," he said.
She stood again. "Finish the food. I'm not carrying you if you collapse."
"Still not telling me your name, huh?"
She bent down, picked up her hat, and settled it back over her messy blonde braid.
"Nope."
The fire crackled in the still desert air. Somewhere out in the dark, a dingo howled at the moon. Wang shifted uncomfortably against the boulder he was tied to, feeling the familiar pressure building in his gut.
He glanced the woman, who was sitting with her back half-turned, cleaning one of her pistols by firelight. She hadn't said much since their last exchange—just grunted when he finished the energy bar, then went right back to her routine.
"Hey," Wang said.
She didn't look up.
"I, uh... I need to piss."
Still no response.
"I'm serious," he continued. "Unless you want a wet stain in your sidecar next time you toss me in, we gotta figure something out."
Cass let out a long, drawn-out sigh.
"Jesus Christ," she muttered, setting her gun down with a clunk on the crate beside her. "Y'ain't even house-trained, are ya?"
"I've been tied up all day, what do you expect?" Wang said, voice dry. "Just a clean release into the fucking void?"
She stood up and walked over, her boots kicking up little puffs of red dust. She pulled out her knife—not the big machete she used for camp work, but a slim, well-oiled pocket blade. The metal caught the moonlight with a faint gleam.
Wang's eyes widened slightly.
"Whoa—wait, wait—what're you—"
Before he could finish the sentence, she crouched next to him and, with no warning or tact, sliced a hole right through the crotch of his pants.
"There," she said flatly, wiping the blade off on her jeans. "Congratulations. You got yourself a piss hatch."
"...You could've at least unzipped me like a normal psychopath," Wang grumbled.
"I'm not your fuckin' nurse," she muttered. "Turn away from the fire and handle your business. Now."
Wang shuffled his legs, cheeks burning. His wrists were still tied behind his back, so he had to do a half-turn and awkward side-angle lean just to get into position. His body screamed for relief.
She didn't let go of the rope.
She stepped back just far enough to give him a little privacy—but still held onto the line tethered to his wrists. Just in case.
"Don't get any bright ideas," she warned.
"Trust me," Wang muttered. "No one's pulling off a great escape with their dick hanging out."
The desert was dead quiet, except for the gentle pop of the fire.
Then came the unmistakable sound of a strong stream hitting hard-packed sand.
Wang exhaled with a long groan of relief. "Ohh... fuck... that's better than water."
She rolled her eyes. "You blokes always sound like you're nutting when you piss."
He chuckled through clenched teeth. "You try holding it for twenty hours with your balls turning into water balloons."
The stream kept going. And going. And going.
"Christ," Cass said after a few seconds. "You pissing out the Nile?"
"I'm gifted," Wang replied, smirking.
The sound finally tapered off. Wang stood there, awkward, twitching his hips slightly to shake off the last drops, then turned back slowly.
"You done?" she asked.
"As done as I'm gonna be."
She nodded once, then pulled on the rope.
"Good. Back to the rock."
He shuffled back over, still tied, still half-exposed, and sat down with a grunt.
Cass didn't re-gag him this time. She just stared at him for a beat, knife still tucked in her glove.
"I swear," she muttered, "next guy I capture better have a catheter."
Q: What was your most awkward moment?