Specimen 231

It's only now that Nalatine notices the spiderwebbed crack in his faceplate, and she crouches next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Janus, are you alright?"

He nods, his hand moving slowly until his fingers touch her thigh.

She narrows her eyes, then asks "Is your mask broken?"

Another nod. His demeanor is tired, but the disorientation seems far more than what sex might provide. For the first time in their relationship this man, her captor, seems helpless.

"Would you like assistance to the medical bay?"

He nods again, and she helps him to stand up, guiding him carefully down a few quiet corridors. The bizarre change from heated, passionate tryst to delicate medical emergency isn't lost on her, but with her libido having been tempered somewhat, she's able to focus and think. Once in the medical room, she guides him to sit in a chair.

"Do I need to remove the mask to fix it?"

For a long while he just sits there, the seconds passing tensely, until he barely nods. Her hands lift, though when she touches at the straps he flinches, his hands pushing hers away.

"I'm sorry, Janus. I will wait." She considers something and walks over to the door console, pressing a button to turn down the lights to almost nothing. It bathes him in shadow, but she can still see him, watching as he lifts his tattooed hands up behind the mask to first detach the respirator tubes. Then he flips a switch on the side of the mask, hidden within the edge near his cheek bone. A dull, mechanical whine dies down, as if the last vestige of power holding the mask up is being released, and the faceplate slowly comes away in his hands.

Nalatine waits by the door, watching him finally remove the piece. And when he does, she narrows her eyes thoughtfully, taking in his true face. Without the straps covering the back of his head, his black, glossy hair is visible, wavy, and perhaps 5 or 6 centimeters long. His face is slender, the angles fine... or would have been fine, if he hadn't been chemically burned.

The manner of the scarring makes her think it was acid or something similar, the proudflesh looking like something was splashed onto him across his eyes, and from there it had dripped down to his neck and chest. His mouth is left intact, as is his nose, though within his nearly closed sockets his eyes are a milky white, and as he leans back in his chair, it's obvious that those orbs can't focus on anything. Slender plates are grafted onto his skin at his temples, contact points for the mask to allow the information to flow towards implants on his optic nerves. A slender channel all the way around his face shows where the mask adheres and creates suction, sealing in the area of his features so that he can breathe more easily.

"So, Nalatine... what do you think?" he asks, his voice a rich baritone, sonorous and tinged with bitter amusement.

She approaches slowly, humming in thought. The sound she produces is meant to let him know where she is. "I think you are a desperate man to let me break your mask so that I might have you," she chuckles, placing a hand onto his shoulder.

His mouth pulls into a grin, and his sightless eyes look down in habit. "I've been alone for a very long time. I... well... it was very good. You were amazing" He turns his head towards her. "Thank you, Nalatine."

Seeing him revealed does something to her. It makes her feel protective and patient. Affectionate. "Perhaps I should have seduced you another way, Janus."

The man breathes in deeply through his nose, shrugging his shoulders as he slides a hand up along the back of her thigh, around her backside, and up to her hip. "But it wouldn't have been nearly as much fun. I'm not a dinner and a movie sort of guy, and I don't think you'd care much for flowers."

"No, they do not taste all that good" she agrees. Slowly she bends down, her wavy hair sliding cool and slick along his bared chest. Her fingers gently caress over his face and he tenses for just a moment, the sensation clearly unusual for him. He allows her to continue, the hand on her hip keeping track of where she is, his other hand lifting to cup over hers on his cheek, then sliding down slowly to cup at her elbow. Very slowly he guides her forward, and she takes the hint, knowing she's being given permission.

Their first kiss is tentative, unpracticed, and sweet. It's clear that neither of them have had much occasion for romance or affection, but they still try, staying gentle and patient with one another. When their lips part, Nalatine pauses, her heart fluttering a little.

"Was that pleasing, Nalatine?" Janus murmurs, his expression growing concerned. Without his mask he can't see her expression.

Nalatine smiles and guides the hand on her elbow to touch her face, letting him feel her happiness. Feeling her smile begets one on his face as well, and she nods gently. "I have never been kissed before. It was nice." A tingling silence follows, neither sure whether to try kissing again or if they shouldn't. Janus is out of sorts from the loss of his faceplate, and Nalatine has never been in this position before. In the end, she clears her throat, sliding her fingers through his hair to calm him down and show her feelings in a way that is more familiar. "How shall I fix your mask?"

He grunts, leaning his head back into her touch, grateful to be out of that awkward pause. "That's the thing. I don't know... I can't see where the damage is."

Nalatine slowly crouches before him, sliding her hands along his arms until, at last, they come to the mask. "But I can."

His eyes close as she gently guides his fingers to the locations of the cracks, describing how each component looks on that side, compared to the other side, which remains intact. They move their operation to the steel table she'd woken up on, and very slowly and carefully she begins to make the repairs he describes. To her eyes the fix looks ugly, her unskilled hands having done their best, but she contents herself to wait and see. Several minutes pass to let the solder and adhesive cool, and then Janus lifts the mask again, setting it onto his face.

Once more he flicks the switch at his cheekbone, and the seals that adhere to his skin lock on again. The atmosphere inside the mask returns after he affixes the tubes. His fingers type out a few sequences on his wrist pad, and while she can see his throat working, she can't hear anything. He's trying to speak, the mask muffling his voice for a few moments, until at last the audio output kicks back in, and that serene monotone issues out once more.

"It isn't at 100%, but this will let me see until we can find a spaceport to get a new one."

Nalatine smiles with relief, nodding. Janus awkwardly lifts his fingers to her cheek and caresses her, tilting his head. "Thank you... I am not good at this."

"I have been entertained, thus far," she says with an airy smile, tilting her head into his touch. "It is not easy to court a Drone, but you have managed it."

"Is it not?" he asks, his filtered chuckle leading her to affectionately slide her tail over his leg. "I am gifted, but I already knew that. Come on, Nalatine. Let us find a port to sell this vessel. It is far too big for us." His hand caresses down her neck to her shoulder, and he suggests "Perhaps a two-person freighter?"

Her fingers slide up his chest, then move down, the tips of her talons just lightly grazing the taut skin of his belly before they hook into his trousers, pulling him up slowly against her. "Mmm," she purrs, swaying her tail, "I'd like that."