Tock scowled at the man. She was starting to get frustrated. He seemed to somehow have the ability to go from charming her with his sweetness to making her recoil in just one breath. As soon as he said he wanted 'to stay with her,' she had the sudden urge to flee. She hadn't thought anything about this night through, and had just been following her shameful urges. If it had been any other man, he would have been happy to be done with her, once the 'deed' was done. Yet this one was getting all clingy. Tock wasn't one to be tied down. She had too much work to do, too many projects to complete, and too many personal issues to sort through. The last relationship she was in had ended quite badly, and left Tock with a bad taste for romance. She had mostly avoided anything to do with it ever since. She'd had moments of raw passion, like with Wart... but both girls had equally understood that it was about the sex, and nothing else. So even if Tock had simply met Andre in a bar or some such, thoughts of romance, relationships, and commitment would have been the furthest thing from her mind. She was a woman who lived in the moment. It took something much more than an urge for something physical before she started thinking beyond the moment. And today, when Tock was heading home after committing quadruple homicide, when she was dealing with the haunted memories of even worse things than murder, the very idea of 'staying' did nothing but drive her away. This man was too good for her. He was brave, and had stepped up to protect her, even at the risk of his own life. He was sweet and kind, and flattering her quite a bit. And since he was a Knight, he was probably honorable, and just, and pure, and all of that stupid horse shyke that Tock wasn't. She was dark, and dirty, her hands stained with innocent blood, her mind gripped by madness that she had just faced for the first real time in her life. She scooped Handy up and placed him on her shoulder, keeping her eyes down and her mouth shut as she used strips of Andre's shirt to firmly tie the splint in place. She put wadded up pads of cloth under the sticks, covering the wounds, so that the ties would both hold the sticks in place to keep the bone straight, and hold the makeshift bandages in place to stop the bleeding. It was the best she could do, without any training in such things. "Don't call me beautiful again," she told Andre in a dark, haunted tone. Her eyes were distant. She was picturing the dead Svefra girl back on the boat. Had she been beautiful then? Had she been beautiful when she plunged her dagger into the father's chest, inch by inch, watching his eyes as the life bled from them? No, she couldn't deal with this. She couldn't deal with this man praising her and treating her like she was anything other than a dirty, horrible person. Didn't he understand that the sex had just been... sex? Just been a need, and he just the nearest warm body to fulfill it. Despite how sweet he was, she had no intention of staying. It would just give him the wrong idea, and he deserved better than that. Better than her... |