[It's the fact that he's made it to this point that she finds fascinating. That even after a fairly recent combat situation he's still as...accepting as he is. If that's the word. Better than the alternative, she supposes, but all the more fascinating for it. Acquiescence, acceptance, even of her.]

[She turns her head, rests her cheek on her knees, looks at him out of unblinking, alien eyes. He's like a blank canvas. No, a primed canvas. Smears of paint left behind, hidden beneath what they'd done to him.]

Any one-on-one combat, or did they stick to shooting at your ship?