The eyes narrowed when he gave a command.  Pupils tightened to stare at the pulse of his neck.  At one time she could have narrowed her sight down to the merest bead of sweat on his flesh, to the throbbing of blood just beneath the surface.  Fluid and nothing more.  Water sloshing around the pipes of this bag of meat and cartilage.  Eyes closed then and she took a slow breath.  Recovery had said there would be moments like this one, where she would remember being something more than human.  Sin remembered those days well and like many in the group she longed for them.  Still there was something to be said for being human and she did as the man told her.<br/><br/>Against her skin the feel of the Kevlar was good.  She did not share the man’s enjoyment of the cold or the refreshing departure from whatever memories haunted him.  Sin remembered the heat but she also knew what the heat could give her and what the cold could take away.  Eyes flickered down to the cold cyber of the man’s arm remembering that sensation of steel on her body, inside her flesh.  Cold and sterile, felt good even when warm blood came gushing out of some hapless meat.  One hand curled into a fist at the memory of those days.  She looked up at the man, past the man really, when he spoke next.  Was he still speaking?<br/><br/>This could all be over quickly.  She still had the sparks in her body, could still draw her pistol before he even felt the twitch of concern.  Put a hole in the bag just to watch the water flow.  That was all the reason she used to need.  Jeffery had changed that part of her.  He had seen the dark, walked the cold path and come back to the sun.  He had torn parts of his soul out in the process in ways she could never.  Strung up like a pig for slaughter she had been told.  The girl next to her seemed shaken up by what they did and he didn’t deserve that end.  Not after what he did for her, what he did for others.  People had to learn to leave the good ones alone, even if the evil ones had to do the teaching.<br/><br/>Sin had let her hair grow out from the military.  Mohawk now a memory fading into the mane of dark hair she let flow down her back and shoulders.  Flickers of neon light could be seen, dancing in rhythmic patterns on her shoulders and neck from the tattoos she retained from her service.  Symbols of a heritage she hardly understood or cared.  Pretty pictures that stirred what was left of her soul.  Slowly she leaned forward on the table, elbows digging into the surface.  The spaghetti top did little to keep the down the swell of her breasts but the coldness in her eyes would delete any heated thoughts.  For now she let the woman next to her do the talking, she was better at that.  People didn't like when Sin started speaking her language.<br/>