"Feisty girl."

Dabbing an alcohol soaked cloth on your knuckles, Atlas finally breaks the silence that had been stretching on for long enough already. His eyes flicker to your just briefly, amusement playing behind them.

After weeks of persuasion, you've finally said yes—which might or might not have been a result the growing intensity of blackmailing from his side—and joined the revolution.

Fights have become an everyday occurence; both with splicers and among the revolutionaries.

So when one of Atlas' men finally had enough of your enouragement, he aimed a gun at you. Because women don't understand politics. And you took matters into your own hands.

"I was reaching for me gun, y'know, ready to put a bullet through that ass' brain. Can you believe I'd kill one of my own for ya?"

Atlas isn't just teasing you. He is being honest.

You haven't been recruited for your mind only. Atlas has become very aware of your assets, of the addition that you are; that's why he asked you to give those anarchist animals a speech—one they can't but must understand.

"Don't get me wrong, dearest, I know you're a strong woman, ey?"

He chuckles.

"But I wasn't expecting that uppercut. Cute, real cute, {{user}}."