Gaines was silent as Dawson explained everything about Instinct. At several points he opened his mouth as if a question had occurred to him or he felt a desire for clarification, but each time he seemed to decide to hear the entire thing before commenting. The first time he blushed was when he heard about Instinct ending up with Mother Earth during their new moon celebration, an occasion which was common knowledge in San Francisco but seldom talked about in polite company. It was not the last time he blushed, and only towards the end when he had reached the point of utter saturation of perplexity did he stop being surprised or vicariously embarrassed by Dawson's descriptions.
When she'd finished he asked to be allowed to think for a few minutes and Dawson took the opportunity to pull up the footage from the shoot-out on her commpad. A news drone in pursuit kept a clear view of what was labeled Neon Justice as the creature inside shot Wilhelm Kross in the throat while shoulder-mounted speakers blared out You're out of touch! I'm out of time! But I'm outta my head when you're not around!!
It had been a nasty confrontation that wouldn't have looked out of place in the occupation and that no one had been killed on either side was a miracle. Instinct's restraint with the suit's rail gun was a testament to just how near she was to being like Dawson herself. Capable of taking the final step but never lightly, even if a menace like Kross had little likelihood of changing his ways.
The thought of that reminded her of something she'd been dwelling on for a while, and Gaines was the person to talk to about it. She turned her attention to him and at her regard he asked his first question.
"Is she good in bed?"
Dawson smiled. "Like no one else I've ever had."
He raised both brows. "That means something, coming from you."
"You've seen her," Dawson told him. "She was on the street yesterday. She stopped someone from suicide bombing you."
Gaines' eyes took on a mystified quality. "I looked at what I thought was you and something felt off. I... I couldn't make sense of the look she gave me, the look coming from that face I know so well. Like she was... apologizing for something. You, you never apologize for anything. People just sense your contrition. You know those things you did, they had to be done. However much we wish things could have gone differently, every step of the way."
Dawson felt the inclination to turn away as she had in years past when someone sought to truly see her, but the new strength since returning from the UCAS held firm and she held his gaze. "My regrets," she said, "Extend further back than the occupation."
His eyes went from mystified to misty. "I know," he said softly, extending a hand across the desk that half an hour ago they'd been fucking on. She took it and brought his fingers to his lips. "I'm not going to pretend that luxury or sex can ease your pain in that regard. All I need you to know is that anything I can do for you, you only have to ask."
Her grip tightened on his hand. "That's what I like to hear," she said in a suddenly husky voice.
He half smiled, half grimaced. "When you got on top, you said you'd fuck me until I was useless. If you want to go again, I ah... I'm going to need a glass of water. And maybe some leonization treatments."
"Don't worry," Dawson told him, reaching out with her essence again to twine with his. His apprehension was genuine, since his dick was sore, but so was his willingness. He'd signed the contract with his lips and this was the job. "I'll give you some time to recover. But Instinct will want a piece of you."
That he was a little more frightened of. "She going to steal my genes or something?"
"Yes," Dawson said, "And your heart. And there's something else. Do you remember the woman who put a gun in your face earlier this year? The Cutter?"
Gaines took his hand back gently and reclined in his seat. One corner of his mouth came up in measured distaste. "As if I could forget. What about her?"
"Her name is Carletta," Dawson reminded him. "You made sure she went away for a long time."
His eyes narrowed. "She threatened to shoot one of my department heads in the face. I'd have pushed for more except I thought it might upset you."
"The idea she's going to spend the rest of her life in a hole with no possibility of getting out upsets me."
"She should have thought about that before she..." The irritation on Gaines' face softened as realization dawned on him and his voice lowered in volume. The final few words of his sentence were quieter. "...picked up a gun."
"I'm not saying we open up the door and look the other way," Dawson said patiently. "I want to talk to her. I want to tell her that there's a possibility she could be free one day. And a citizen of the free state."
Gaines let out a slow sigh. "Alright."
"And when I tell her that, it's going to be true."
"You going to do this for everyone you put behind bars?"
She smiled slightly. "If I live long enough."
"I can't help you," he said evenly, "With people who are imprisoned because of crimes against megacorporate entities beyond Ares Macrotechnology."
"I'll get other help for those," Dawson assured him. "Tell me you're on my side with this."
She could tell from her connection to him that there was a feeling of tremendous relief in him that he could say his next words without hesitation. "Of course I am."
When they'd dressed, he insisted on walking out with her. In the elevator, with Cranston politely not speaking and bearing no particular expression, Gaines spoke. "So what was that about a suicide bomber after me?"
This got the ork's attention. But Dawson waved one hand, the other in her coat pocket.
"It's alright, she stopped him. We're working on it. Shouldn't happen again." She looked at him, saw his pursed lips, and a line of inquiry occurred to her. It would quell the urge she had to blow him for the rest of the elevator ride down.
"You met with Arthur Vogel, and he hasn't announced much since Knight went missing. What happens to Ares now?"
At the broaching of this topic, Gaines relaxed into the mask he'd worn nearly every moment of every day since she'd known him. The man with clout. "How about you make an assessment," he said, "And I'll tell you if I agree with it."