There is something intensely satisfying in watching Jo bat Heleen's hand away from her face. It’s the kind of action someone who had suffered under the mistress could scarcely bring herself to consider, that fear of her still lodged so firmly between her ribs. But, oh, it’s good to see it.

Inej wonders if the lights flicker for Jo’s agitation or Heleen’s. Or maybe it’s coincidental all around. Who can be sure given everything that’s off and wrong these days.

“You never tamed me,” she bites out sharply.

“Oh, but didn’t I?” She doesn’t even walk the space from Jo’s shoulder to Inej’s, she’s just suddenly there, pausing in front of the girl, uncomfortably close and makes it worse still reaching up to stroke delicate fingertips across high-boned cheeks.

Despite her attempts at resolving herself, Inej still recoils from the touch. Icy cold and somehow both solid and feather-light enough to wonder if anything had been against her skin at all. “Yes,” she purrs, a soft amused sound rolling low in her throat. “You may have escaped with the barrel rat, but you will always… be… mine.” The last word holds a possessive curl that matches the curvature of her smirk.