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As Sasha shuffled into the Doctor's office, she wasn't entirely sure he'd be there. Dylon had simply knocked and opened the door for her - there hadn't been an answer before she'd slipped into the office.

Worrying a fistful of hair and clad in the most stunning pair of sweatpants, Sasha cleared her throat quite loudly a third time before really take a moment to peer around the room.

"Sir?"

Her voice, low and reedy, cracked as she spoke.

Sasha watched the Doctor quite solemnly for a short stretch of time before a low, unstoppable giggle trickled past her lips. She brought it to an abrupt halt before clearing her throat.

Sasha drew her hair over her shoulder and began to nimbly braid it, her eyes never leaving the doctor's face. She made her way further into his office as she tossed the half-finished braid back over her shoulder.

"Something's happened."

As if it wasn't obvious.

Sasha watched the Doctor with hooded eyes, a look of slight apprehension creasing her forehead. She took a halting step forward, her breath catching in her throat.

There was a piece of her, fragile and afraid, that wanted nothing more than comfort from the man who beckoned her closer. There was a slightly larger piece of her that knew he was not really the comforting sort.

Sasha moved closer to the man on the couch, sweatpants sagging precariously about her hips. Her eyes remained locked on his face - just as they had been since she'd entered the room - and she moved to seat herself at his feet.

"Everything's broken, Doctor. Everything's broken, and I don't know how to fix it." Her voice held no tremor, just a deep confusion.

"Yes, but I can't hear her very well, and then.. well, this," Sasha gestured at her body with frustration.

She paused, turning slightly to break eye contact with the Doctor.

"Did you know this would happen?"

Sasha didn't sound upset, just tired. Resigned, really.

Sasha let out a soft, slightly annoyed sound before doing as the Doctor ordered. She hadn't had reason to summon Nona since her return to the island, and she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to deal with the emptiness that resounded in her skull.

She held out her small hands and moved to summon Nona on a shaky exhale, her eyes closed as she waited for the weight of her weapon in her hands.

"I thought you should know that," ah, there was Nona, silent as ever, the smooth contour of her grips as comforting as always, "something else happened. There was a door. Keyholes. I saw all of the dead hunters. I know of my family line." She didn't sound impressed. She sounded accusatory, almost - of course he'd known. He was the Doctor.

Sasha opened her eyes and glanced down at her weapon, pursing her lips before turning to peer at the Doctor.

Nona disappeared abruptly, and Sasha lifted an eyebrow. "Nobody came looking for me."

The sense of danger hadn't been lost on Sasha; it never was, not since a previous interaction with H had left her with his hand around her neck. She felt volatile, a little unhinged, still seeking comfort or danger or something that made sense.

Sasha's eyes dropped briefly to the Doctor's lips, narrowing slightly on that smile. She did't hesitate in placing her hand into his (whether that was his intent or not), lower lip pushed out in the slightest little pout - something that was quite reminiscent of the Sasha that had first stepped foot on the island.

Rising to her feet, Sasha did as she was told, going so far as to make space for herself on the couch next to the Doctor. Her hair was arranged behind her, half of it draped over his legs.

The bruises that blossomed across her skin seemed to intrigue Sasha. She watched his fingers move against her skin, sinister and so very, very capable.

Something shifted inside of her. It was dynamic, multifaceted. There was an icy emotion in her eyes, cold and reckless. Too complex to be fear, too simple to be anger. A hunger of sorts, dark and almost malicious.

"I am not powerless," she agreed with acute clarity, the foggy-soft tone gone. "And not really in need of rescuing," Sasha's gaze cut from the Doctor's hand to his face. She lifted her free hand to boldly press against his collarbone, the tips of her nails digging lightly into his olive-toned skin.

"Just a body," the echoed words were dagger-sharp and rough in her throat. Her eyes narrowed to mere slits as she watched her hand move against the Doctor's neck. "Does this one remind you of someone? Do you find this body appealing?"

The questions weren't truly meant to be answered, and it didn't look as though she'd meant to ask them aloud. Her thoughts were in cavernous room locked away. The room with the strange instruments, the pretty dresses, the perfumes. A strange little smile flirted oddly with her lips, and Sasha lifted her eyes to meet the Doctor's.

She didn't feel herself, hadn't felt herself in such a long time that she'd started to forget who she was. She was splintered. Fractured, not yet shattered. She was broken into pieces that could no longer be correctly pieced together. Was she the bold, catty woman? The fluff-brained, innocent girl? Or was she something different? Someone who came from a family of power and purpose?

"I want you," Sasha whispered softly, her voice a strange amalgamation of all parts of her. It was not immediately obvious if she meant the Doctor himself, or everything the Doctor stood for - his position, his power, his reach, his methods and means, his darkness, the respect he commanded.

Sasha did not elaborate on the three hushed words, and did not move to encourage any sort of further contact. There was no flush on her cheeks, no glint of anything that might speak of the meaning behind her words. Just a dark interest deep in the pale blue of her eyes. A curiosity.

His words caused her expression to darken malevolently, teeth baring as she chewed over what he'd said. Bitter to the tongue, acrid and harsh.

There was no arrogance in her movement. This was not a game of ego, not to Sasha. This was something far more primal and vicious, and she slid her fingers around the column of his neck. Her nails rasped against his skin, rough and wicked. She watched his expression, heat leeching into her eyes. It was exciting, seeing such a man of power and extraordinary means like this. Thrilling, even - but she knew she was being allowed to do what she was doing.

Weakness, all forms (discard) - useless, but inherent. Adjust.
Manipulative (salvage) - necessary.
Kindness (salvage) - fruitful at times.

He could stop her at any time. Despite her bold actions, Sasha knew that the doctor was in control, just as he always was. She shifted closer, leaning in to the man on the couch. Her fingers tightened just slightly, aligning with the pulse that beat just beneath his skin. The doctor's skin was warm and appealing. Sasha turned so that she could face him more fully.

Sex (salvage) - file under manipulative, manipulation. Useful, but not necessary.
Love (discard) - fleeting, useless. Falsify if situation calls for it.
Anger (salvage) - keep close. Use as needed.

Sasha knew she could not kill the doctor even if she wanted to - and she didn't (he would serve her purposes much better alive). There was still so much for him to teach her, after all, and she was the most willing of pupils. A flush settled across her cheeks.

Cunning (salvage) - utterly necessary.
Vulnerability (discard) - completely worthless.
Determination (salvage) - useful.

A strange combination of desire (for him, all of him, everything he represented), loathing (for him, the man in her way), and utter respect (for the Doctor, her mentor) shifted across her delicate features.

"No," she agreed softly, "it isn't." Sasha leaned down, her breath a whisper against the doctor's ear.

"But couldn't it be?"