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Sasha had always enjoyed underwater duty. It was quiet more often than not, and usually she could read or play her flute in order to make time pass more quickly.

Today Sasha was toting her flute along with her. She wasn't entirely sure whom she'd be on duty with, but when Chantelle came into view, Sasha's entire demeanor changed. She slowed, moving to stand near the dark-haired woman, her fingers brushing idle patterns across the textured flute case.

"Chantelle." Sasha's smile didn't reach her eyes. "What are you reading?"

Sasha's eyebrows lifted, and she pursed her lips slightly as she moved closer to the other woman.

"I've never read it." Perhaps it was something she should pick up on her next leave. Then again, she probably wouldn't - because if Chantelle was reading it, Sasha didn't want to.

Clearing her throat, Sasha sat down very close to Chantelle, her leg very firmly pressed against the other woman's from hip to knee. Invasion of space had become something of a hobby for Sasha; if people drew away, she pressed closer. If they pressed closer, Sasha allowed it.

"Jerry tells me you play the piano."

This topic was one that had weighed heavy on her mind, one that she returned to time and time again. It made her curious. Very curious.

As Chantelle shifted away, Sasha only moved closer. Predator and prey, a game of cat and mouse. It was entertaining to Sasha to see how far she could push someone, and Chantelle's reaction was absolutely delicious.

So was the perfume she wore, which brought back memories of dancing in the pod room with Jan. It took a long, long moment of Sasha staring at Chantelle before everything clicked together in rapid fire succession.

A slow, slow smile gleamed, too many teeth flashing past her parted lips. Sasha lifted her hand to brush against Chantelle's hair.

"I was going to suggest we play together some time, but that would be a little redundant, wouldn't it?"

Sasha laughed, low and dark, her eyes intent on Chantelle's.

"What perfume do you wear? It's absolutely divine."

Sasha didn't know what game was being played, and she didn't truly care. It was nice to have a little leverage on someone else, but Sasha didn't want to exploit it. Not with this particular person. She'd been intensely interested by the man in the pod room, and this only served to increase that interest.

Sasha's eyes remained locked on Chantelle's - or was it Jan? - lips for a long moment, finally flickering up to her eyes.

"It does. But you wear it very well. I've been thinking about it ever since we danced in the pod room."

"Nothing."

Well, that wasn't completely true, and Sasha hummed softly before amending her previous comment.

"I'll encourage Jerry, of course," Sasha purred, her voice low. "Why wouldn't I? He's quite smitten by you - though, I'll admit, I can see why. We're dear friends, and he'll listen to my encouragement."

She retreated, finally giving Chantelle space.

"I'm quite fascinated by you, you see. Your secret is safe with me."

Sasha watched Chantelle keenly, a terrible smile on her lips.

"Vous créature parfaite. What do I call you? Are you Jan? Are you Chantelle? Or are you someone else, when we are alone?"

"I like the you with the dead eyes."

Sasha's voice was a low rasp in the room, and once more she was leaning close to Chantelle.

"And I don't really care if Jerry is happy. He's always been a train wreck. Did you know he once masturbated in my closet while I left him alone in my dorm room? I can't even remember why he was there."

Sasha waved her hand in the air. It was very difficult for her not to reach out and touch. To test the man's frame, to squeeze his wiry arms, to pull the wig askew, to smudge his makeup.

"I've found that Jerry's value lies in his love of chatting. Oh, how that man loves to talk about things he shouldn't. It's his most charming attribute."

Sasha fell silent and leaned back into Chantelle's space.

"What does Deus call you?"

"Yes, he's got many issues. I thought that I loved him, once - a far stupider version of myself did, anyway." She shrugged her slim shoulders. "But if he trusts you - and I think he must - well. I think he'd be willing to die for you. He's always been willing to put himself in the face of danger for the woman he's got feelings for."

Falling silent, Sasha seemed to pout a little; she wanted to know the man's name - the name of the man with the clipped accent, the man who had crouched between two pods, the man she'd first seen in the pod room. However, as much as she wanted to press for more details, Sasha didn't.

"Jan, then," Sasha breathed, leaning in to deeply inhale the scent of perfume that lingered. "You intrigue me. I find myself fascinated by you, by the masks you wear. I question your motives, but at the same time I don't want to ask."

Sasha brushed the hair away from Chantelle's neck, moving her fingers along her exposed neck. She giggled softly, the sound an almost-purr.

"What's going on in there," Sasha was close now, her lips brushing against Chantelle's ear. "That's the most pressing question, I'll be honest."

It was obvious that Sasha cared nothing for the cameras that were constantly watching. Certain rules didn't apply to her, or so she thought, and it was clear that she did not care what was recorded.