The overwhelming agony persisted as Althea pulled him out of the crowded hall, through a slamming door, down a corridor and out into the cold, snow-filled alleyway behind the hall. She ignored his cries for her to stop, brushed aside his wild blows, and only let go once he could feel the blast of stinging cold hit him. The frigid air hit his lungs so suddenly that it sent him into a coughing fit.
“Do you enjoy it when I hurt you?! I do not need that kind of sabotage Traejan!” the venom in her voice hit him as hard as the frigid air, steaming breath accompanying the scolding doing little to hid the anger playing out plainly on her face.
“We agreed,” she continued, a flat hands battering him back with each syllable. “That none of us would even mention the Consortia, the portals, or my nantech at all until the Macro is destroyed!”
The final blow knocked him against a wall hard enough to shower him with frost and snow. He blinked numbly at her.
“It was just a slip of the tongue,” he told her, glaring at her, burning with humiliation.
It was just Cuddy, bloody streck.
It’s not as though he stood up on a chair and announced everything to the whole damn hall.
“Damn you it only takes a mouthful of words in the wrong ears to cause everything to spiral out of control,” she told him angrily. He stared at the sweat on her brow steaming off her. “I am not going to let that happen. Not here.”
Finishing, she continued to gulp in air, seeming not to care how cold it was.
He stood back up straight – to take her on – to defend himself.
“Do you believe hiding who you are,” he started, stronger than he expected. “What you're planning, is going to work?”
“They don’t take kindly to being misled or used,” he repeated what he had told her before. Why was she refusing to understand? He stabbed out a finger into the darkness. “In the south it’s dangerous enough without playing games with them. If you think people won’t be spreading the news to everyone they know–”
She closed the distance between them, despite his defiance. In a moment he was somehow back up against the wall.
“Listen to me Traejan,” she hissed, standing so close, he could feel her chest against his, the damp heat from each of her breaths. “We don’t have the luxury of spending time talking with all the scavengers in town, one after the other, after the other! I don’t care if they spread gossip about Goshram being beaten by a woman all through this pathetic collection of shacks.”
I don’t care what they think even after the Macro is destroyed,” she continued, the word hitting like hammers. “But I do care if they believe that I’m a Consortian!”
She pushed off from the wall, giving him room to breath, turned looked at the closed door behind them, then back, her eyes, her voice losing their fire.
“My way does work,” she added – didn’t seem to be talking at him anymore – sounding suddenly exhausted. “Regardless of how it may look now.”
Her fury returned just as quickly, before he mustered the courage to speak.
“Do you believe that I can destroy the mechs, or not?!”
“I didn’t mean to–” He tried to start. Put up his hands, trying to make peace.
“I know,” she agreed, offering a tired gesture of dismissal, a weak wave of the hand, “but all it takes is one slip. With all those bots and flyers out there… Do you understand? We can’t afford any mistakes.”
“I understand,” Traejan told her, but he didn’t.
The door behind them slammed open, accompanied by a gust of warm wind that blew the snow around in swirls. Kyso stood, backlit, staring at the both of them.
“What the streck is going on?!”
