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Branded.

With an "O". A zero. An empty set. Mimsy narrowed her eyes and pressed her thumb into the center, sending a jolt of steady pain radiating outward. She bit her lip and pushed harder, an involuntary 'ah' rising from her throat. She made the choice to gain something and had inevitably lost most of what she might have worked towards in Deus Ex, where favor meant a great many things. And nobody favored the traitor.

It wasn't their approval she needed, or their adoration, or knowledge that anyone cared at all. Those were things she hadn't needed for a long time, and if it mattered from anyone, it was Kostya and Kostya alone. But he wasn't in their room to clarify their terms, and had yet to respond to her message. Everyone else knew, though, and if they didn't they soon would, and obtaining things would be just that much more difficult.

She pressed harder still. Tiny beads of blood rose like thick sweat from broken skin in the deepest parts of the burn. Svensyl said something that the ringing in her ears blocked out.

No, she needed none of that. Just information and knowledge and success in her field, a million times over, over and over and over until she died one day and became nothing more than the molecules she--

She snatched the door open and glared, sleeve pulled over the brand. Blood and yellow-tinged plasma were already leaking through the coat, the white material failing to do her any favors.

"What?"

"Neither is your presence," Mimsy flatly responded, already moving to take a step backward to close the door. They had a deal that she had not forgotten, but the terms said nothing about talking, and it was clear that his intentions at the moment included conversation. She could already guess what many of them were thinking, and had no desire to discuss how she had broken the sacred bonds of companionship or whatever nonsense anyone planned to throw at her. She was on the side of intellect, and she was rarely a traitor to intellect; never purposely, when it had to happen.

It appeared that he had different plans, and he was too close and touching her again. Her skin felt feverish beneath the places where his arms rested on her, through cloth and on bare skin alike, and panicked frustration flashed across her face.

Her breath caught in her throat, body betraying her mind in the worst of ways again. She didn't push him away or struggle to free herself, knowing that doing so would just expend all of her energy and probably amuse him all the while. Still, she didn't allow him to think that she liked this, rigid in his arms.

"My way is the most logical path, so naturally, if I cannot have my way we are on a path of idiocy." She shook her wrist as best she could to drive home her point, open air stinging the tender flesh.

Even without following his gaze, Mimsy could make an educated guess that he was fixated on the burn. The blackened singe of skin only remained around the edges, but the scar looked worse now than it had when she followed Lucky back.

"Might I take the time to remind you: I am not a puzzle to be solved, and the 'ice queen facade' is not a game. I do everything for a reason. I do not like being..." With no space between the two of them and his hand busy tending to the scar, it seemed futile to mention. Still, there was a tightness in her chest, a flickering chill from within, as if her flesh remembered thin fingers pressed against it. "Use of metaphor is not beyond me, but I know that skin is meant to protect; when something gets beneath it, our systems begin working to expel it."

She tilted her head up. "You won't be there for long."

If she had a reason for anything that she had been doing, she kept quiet, swallowing the taste of bile in her mouth. She knew how ridiculous it would sound to elaborate on her disgust at what seemed a lot like concern, so she grit her teeth through his retelling of the events on the other side of the portal, her arm twitching under his hand as he implied idiocy again. When he was done with the bandage, she glanced briefly at it before returning her flat stare to him. She didn't thank him or offer any indication of gratitude; that meant acknowledging debt, and she would not be indebted over a salve and a band-aid.

"Was my mark of betrayal spoiling your experience, or do you intend to negate our bargain if I neglect to remove this?" Despite her wording, her tone sounded genuinely curious - nothing as venomous as the questions might have suggested.

His whispered demand earned a twitch of a smile and another breathless shift of her body, reaction short-lived and gone in the next instant. She exhaled into a sigh, still not breaking her stare.

"I will do so on my terms," she insisted, unfastening button after button until the thick cloth of her coat parted, a hint of grey tank top visible beneath. She made it very clear that she was in no hurry, slowly shrugging the coat from her shoulders until it fell against his arm.

One touch after another over the burn made Mimsy flinch. The bandage served to cover it well enough, and the pressure put on it each time wasnt enough for her nerves to react, but there was something about such careless contact to the one part on her body where all natural defenses had been burned away that made it feel like an insult.

"I would sooner remove any nagging memory of you from my own brain with my fingernails than allow you and Svensyl to treat it is a playground. And really, Dakota, I was pursuing a doctorate in astrophysics. Hopefully you are intelligent enough to understand how insignificant you are among the vast expanse of the cosmos. My mind is full of theorems and constant calculations in an effort to bridge the gap between FEAR and dark matter. Where do you possibly fit in? Your ability to elicit a biological reaction from me is not even a party trick when my memory of it competes with my memory of formulas meant to carry objects into spa--"

Her words were caught in the movement of his hand and the fabric of her shirt as it was pulled over her head, leaving her glasses askew and bangs a mess. Her shoulders went rigid as she held her breath in the wake of his actions, motionless for long enough to look like she'd somehow shut off completely. When her chest began to move with rhythmic breaths again, she just blinked irritably twice and took another long pause before she spoke, her words now markedly devoid of any patience.

"Marred skin is not the only indicator of the damage dealt by our pasts. If you believe that you can permanently settle in someone's mind, you must know how easily something greater can anchor itself. Weapons do not so deftly repair those damages." She wiggled her captive fingers and nodded towards her side of her shared room. "I refuse any more progress unless I can move somewhere better fit to retain my balance. I will not break my nose or glasses over leggings and a bargain. I believe you will find this within the terms of our agreement, considering the fact that our agreement was two sentences long."

Expecting compliance, she moved to pull her hands free, halting again at his question.

Svensyl made a noise like a large animal licking its chops before falling into silence again.

"Yes, I am," she replied, studying his face. The answer had come quickly, as easily if he had asked about her hair color, but there was a clear hesitation that followed. Lines of correlation between all previous topics were easy to draw, but that... "That branch of interaction is not a priority. Unlike my cousin, since you are so keen on comparing us, I declined participation in the frivolities of embraces or kisses or actions of greater intimacy for over a decade in normal society; here, apparently..."

She gave him a look.

"...those are an unavoidable hazard."

With a heavy sigh, Mimsy narrowed her eyes and tried not to think about why she bothered speaking to anyone here. The words he repeated sounded so foreign in his mouth, and she proved him partially right by simply refusing to elaborate. She stayed silent even as he curled his arm around her waist and carried her to her bed. Any spiteful remarks that she could, in fact, walk by herself were eclipsed by forced breathing, an irregular pattern pushed through with the hope that he might think that the time for those reactions had passed.

Through her silence and their movement she kept staring at him, fearing where her mind might wander if she didn't keep it firmly here, away from forests and the shadows in the trees.

"I appreciate your understanding. We may share relation and time spent together as children, but that is the extent of our ties. We do not mix. Like a hydrophobic solution. Oil and water," she added slowly, in case her previous explanation didn't get through. Her thumbs hooked over her waistband. "In the vein of differences, I note that you and I have strongly contrasting musts."

The idea of another bargain was met with trepidation, but she could humor him, if it meant extending the distraction of that was their conversation.

"Compounding deals with you seems like a statistically negative scenario for me. However..." She pointed her toes downward and wiggled her feet until her remaining clothing slipped onto the floor, a messy pile of satin-sheen stars. "I must admit my curiosity. What could you have possibly devised that would benefit both of us in such a way, while still providing a positive outcome for you?"

She sat straight and spoke as plainly as she always did, hands clasped and calmly placed in her lap. In the absence of physical contact, this had clearly settled into the realm of 'not a big deal' again.

Still, something bothered her; she and Kostya led a simple coexistence, framed by understanding and respect devoid of uncomfortable questions. The idea that Dakota was privy to something that would somehow improve their arrangement bordered upsetting. How could anyone know more about Kostya than she...

Her fingers twitched as she tried to justify the direction of her thoughts in a way that did not fall under 'friendship'.

The new deal presented to Mimsy was not initially what she had been expecting at all, but it still fell short of anything she might find truly beneficial to the both of them. Her remnants of anxiety appeared to be slipping away with the relief that Dakota did not, in fact, know her roommate better than she did. The beginnings of the proposal sounded honest, and were a stark contrast to the Dakota she had seen only a few moments before. She curiously wondered if this was coming from a place more genuine than--

<Take the deal.>

--the advances he found so important to flaunt. It was just the two of them now, with no audience (human audience, she bitterly thought, cutting Svensyl off again). He still spoke of things that she didn't really understand, but appeals to connection were more familiar than appeals to emotion.

"I would appreciate nothing being forced upon me under any circumstances, but I will make no promises of friendship." Her fingers twitched again at that word. "I can speak only for myself, but can communicate your desire for friendship to Kostya, if you would like."

Ah, that was more what she had expected.

<Oh! Do it, let him-->

She spoke over Svensyl, ignoring him again.

"Feel better? I assure you that the depth of whatever you think I'm experiencing is as shallow as irritation - nothing more. I have managed annoyances in my past without intercourse, and I cannot comprehend how it could possibly improve my current situation. Any negativity you perceive is directly connected to my dislike of contact, and increasing that contact would make me feel better?"

She raised her eyebrows as she waited for that to (hopefully) sink in, and shook her head, but didn't move to dress herself again.

"Additionally, you have failed to fully consider the Konstantin variable. Your problem-solving method is atrocious." At least he wasn't in life like some of the others she had to work alongside. She could be thankful for that much.

It was a question that was innocent enough, and Mimsy almost missed it in the wake of Dakota's claim that he wasn't giving up on having sex with her. Divulging all of that information was just so simple, but she hadn't expected to need to explain any of it. She very rarely spoke with anyone about such personal things, and talking about herself was one of the things she practiced the least.

"Because I..." There was a flash of something that looked like fright in her eyes before she composed herself again. She didn't know. How could she not know?

Expressing that she didn't want it was usually enough. She couldn't just say 'because I don't' - this was Dakota. There was only a miniscule chance that he'd accept only that. Remaining silent just a little longer, she tried to think back as far as she could, and ended somewhere near a forest over a decade ago.

...ah.

"I haven't been entirely truthful. Casual contact devoid of emotion or intimacy does not have the same effect, but it's simpler to generalize. A handshake, for instance, would result in something 'normal', whereas when you touch me..." She waved her hand, trying to imply that he already knew what happened. Once she stopped speaking, however, she lost all of the momentum that she'd hoped might carry her through an explanation she was entirely unprepared for.

She frowned, reached for her coat, pushed her arms through the sleeves, and fastened one button in the middle before she looked at him again.

"Before you arrived here, did you ever encounter one of the FEAR-based entities? Something that could be quantified as stronger than just shadows, I mean."