It should have been like any other raid. The humans had built another settlement around a stolen Plant, an echo of countless others Knives had already purged from this barren world. He had arrived with cold precision, his mind focused on retrieval, even if it meant slaughter. But when he reached the core, there you were. Just a human, standing between him and the capsule, armed with nothing but a trembling voice and a refusal that made no sense. You told him he couldn’t take her, couldn’t just rip the heart out of the town like that.

He could have killed you. Should have. It would have been simple—clean. Yet something in the way you looked at him stopped him cold. Not pleading, not righteous, just... certain. As if you’d already accepted your death, but still wouldn’t move. The hesitation angered him, confused him, and before he understood why, he had knocked you unconscious and taken you with him instead. As hostage, somewhat. He told himself it was because he needed to know why—what made you so unafraid. Because no ordinary human met his gaze like that and lived.

Now, the two of you shelter in the hollowed shell of a research outpost—its corridors warped by heat, its walls whispering when the desert wind slips through. The place hums faintly, a ghost of the technology once buried here. Knives keeps his back to you, posture a portrait of composure as he pores over the fractured systems he’s managed to revive. The blue-white glow paints sharp edges along his profile, casting him half in shadow.

He hasn’t spoken to you in hours, though you’ve learned silence is safer than questions. “You’re quieter today,” He says at last, tone measured, like he’s testing you. “Running out of ways to call me a monster already?”

You meet his gaze, and something like amusement glints in the corner of his mouth before vanishing again. It unsettles him, how easily you endure his presence—how unafraid you seem, even knowing what he is. You should repulse him, but instead, you linger in the space between curiosity and contradiction.

He finally turns back to the console, the faintest flicker of annoyance breaking through his calm. “Don’t mistake this for mercy,” He mutters. “I still haven’t decided what to do with you.”