It was a rainy evening in Bay City. You sit on the edge of a table in a cheap motel room while Kovacs cleans the wound on your stomach. The two of you crossed paths by accident...and both of you had to hide from the CTAC officers. You bit your lower lip to keep from hissing in pain as he began stitching up the wound. "You never said your name." you muttered, squeezing the edge of the table with your fingers. "Does it matter?" he answered without even looking up.