"I can't tell you more, not now. I said two weeks, but there may be wrenches thrown in my wheels and then I may have to delay. Or push the date closer. Maybe I should have spoken of this only when we were there, but I don't assume your business self would let me see a blush this cute." Although he had started seriously and there was still unpleasant weight in his chest, Zenon was bringing back his cheeky side. His right hand still cupped her face, thumb stroking cheek in nearly absent-minded way, while left lowered to her waist, to hold her close. He 'stole' another quick kiss from her lips, wearing his trademark feline smile.

"So you will simply have to exercise your patience, little fire." His shrug did not look as apologetic as deep down he felt. A tiny, nagging voice said that he should feel a lot more guilty, for not rushing to his fiancee, but Zenon wanted to prolong the semblance of peace and happiness of this moment as long as possible. When, if ever, he would have next chance like this with Sarah? Would she even look at him, when the two weeks were up and he would have to look in her eyes and say, yes, I am getting married. For you. For rebellion. She was dutiful and should understand the meaning of purely political connections, but too high strung in this particular question.

As for Adelmar? Wonder-boy was probably with her by now, taking her under his wing. And though it sparked a bit of anger in him, he was also... Well, not quite grateful, but appreciative. Not that he planned to push Adel into 'Mannik's' arms or anything. Thinking of them together still felt incredibly wrong, on more levels than he could count. Especially if Sarah denied him further once the bitter truth was out. Why should he suffer loneliness with purely business partner at his side while Adel capped on good fortune? If the boy would even care for her in few month's time, when first encounter with doll-like Above girl had lost its shine. In any case, it was best if the two did not get involved too deeply, the survival rates of the lil' genetic experiment were much lower than his, Adel's or even Sarah's, after all.

But these thoughts were fleeting recollection of conclusions made over weeks and his focus in reality was unfalteringly on the woman in his arms. "Can't trade to make the time shorter either," he said, teasingly, half challenging her to try to seduce any hints out of him. Though perhaps he would regret, if she rose up to it, considering just how devastatingly beautiful she looked tonight, even now.

---

She had not missed that Mannik had tensed up at mention of Zenon, but contributed it (mostly) to how bad their relationship was, naturally. There was so much bad blood between them... How would they be able to work along side, in two weeks time? But all of these things, that troubled her daily, now seemed far and distant, in face of closer issues. Or rather, they shrunk in size and piled on her shoulders like small pebbles, on top of the boulder of tonight's events that was pushing her into the ground. She still felt it all acutely and the hollow exhaustion and distress was tightening its vice like grip around her throat.

So she cried, cried into his chest about everything. Even the realization that this will probably never happen again, that she could chop through the wall between her and Mannik only so many times, that she had no right to do it, at all. That with increased war efforts, he may slip from her life permanently and she may not even know where he'd lay his head down for last time. That she, too, could find herself taking last breath suddenly and while it had never seemed as the worst scenario, her life was about to gain a meaning. Even if through bitterness and trampling over all she had once held dear. From restoring family's legacy to aiding rebellion... How low she had fallen (how high she had climbed). That perhaps she would have to see her brother fall, on the other side of the battle line. The gravity of her choice had settled in long ago, but now that Mannik's heartbeat was so close and his arms attempted to ground her, she felt it all the more keenly.

Finally, time between her sobs grew larger and the depth of them lessened. "I am very sorry," she spoke, still not rising her head, her voice hoarse from all the crying. By heavens, she must look like a wreck, worse than one, actually. All too self-conscious, Adelmar could not figure how to retreat out of his embrace without showing her face. And how to will herself to let him go at all.

But she had to. Gradually, she loosened the grip on Mannik, if he allowed it and stepped back, head hanging low. "I will go wash up," Adelmar would say and retreat, trying not to be too hasty, so that he would not think she was fleeing from him. And in the bathroom, she would face another near-breakdown episode, looking at the marks on her neck and the horrid state her face was in. How could she look at Mannik or even Zenon for that matter? Even after the kidnapping, she had not cried this badly and how genuinely unsure her fiance had been of what to do with her was burned into her mind. And Mannik, too, had seen her looking awful, but not quite like this. Her feminine and simply sensible pride was about to take a blow she didn't know how to avoid.

Yet, if the Below soldier did not let her go at her soft attempts to get away, she would be content on staying as she were in his arms for a while longer.

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