Sunset ^beta

Chapter Text

Adds didn't provoke much of anything from her. Even pumping with liters of a blood-like compound, with plenty of joints to shatter, wires to yank, and the way their eyes finally dulled as their internal batteries failed. It had some appeal, and there were certainly some people out in the world who got their rocks off to that sort of stuff, but it was just... off. Didn't sate her hunger. Didn't do much of anything. Trying to hurt something lacking the ability to hurt.

Morgan continued to ponder, looking down at Serra's sleeping face. Did David build that slight pout into her lips? Something with the way those muscles and tendons were designed to rest? Or, she thought with a tinge of a smile, could it have been her that had made Serra frown so much it stuck when recharging?

She was considering. Consideration she mentally danced around and avoided looking straight on, as if that would keep those thoughts from getting scared away. Curiosity was a whim she was loathe to indulge for how often it pulled her into annoyances. But this one thought kept returning, when the pang of hunger struck. How would it feel to make Serra stop for good? Something more than an Add that belonged to her, with the capabilities to turn off its monitoring systems and cameras, and- most importantly- that Serra was alive. Courts would say otherwise, but that just made it feel like something sweeter. Like she was getting away with something she shouldn't be able to.

Morgan frowned as the metaphor got away from her. Not much of what she did was legal. And- as she pressed her cigarette into the ashtray at her desk- decided it would be too easy. She had been David's, and having her around... wasn't too awful, really. Helped keep her on her toes. Serra, despite her indignation when misled, could be convinced of anything thanks to her lack of comprehension when it came to people. It was useful, when Morgan lied to her or expressed a need for 'alone time', to be taken at her word and trusted completely. 

If she ever grew up a bit more, became a bit more canny... Well, Morgan would cross that bridge when she came to it. This thought did provoke a physical reaction in her- hair on her arms standing on end, shivering at the thought of Serra becoming even more human... before being snuffed out forever all the same. She was a woman of whim. Who could deny such an urge? She lifted her gaze back to Serra's face, blinking in surprise as she noted those orange rings staring up at her. 

"Adonai...? Did you have need of me for anything?"

"Mm. Couldn't sleep. You can go back go bed." 

Morgan shifted in her chair, preparing to stand and return to her room to try and let her instincts and needs fade into a dull humming that could be left to lie a few more weeks. But Serra made a noise- a strange little gasp that was immediately strangled in her throat. Drawing Morgan's eyes back to that contorted expression on her androids face. 

"What is it?"

"Oh, no, nothing, it's just-"

"Serra."

"Adonai?"

"Spit it out."

"... You, um-"

Serra nudged her head slightly- and Morgan glanced down to the bulge in her utilitarian underwear. Well, she had been trying to sleep before she'd paced downstairs with her cigarette. Her eyebrow raised at Serra, the slight artificial flush of embarrassment making it clear.

"Spearmint, on your first day staying here you barged into the bathroom while I was showering when you wanted to talk about some video you watched about some buff girl in the woods making pancake-"

"It was corn pone, Adon-"

"Regardless, it's nothing you haven't seen before, in more intimate situations, so I'd like to not be ogled while in sleepwear."

Maybe she had gotten a bit too into her own head. A bit too excited thinking about her other interests. She might need to take a walk sooner than she'd thought. But also the thought of Serra having seen her dick enough to notice when she was starting to get stiff was... strange. Not the type of close she was used to being with anyone.

"Of- of course, Adonai, I wouldn't- I'm sorry."

Despite her words, Serra's expression exposed the burning desire for further conversation, and Morgan sighed, rolling her chair back behind her desk to at least protect her lower half from more undesired attention. 

"What?"

"I was just curious... why you didn't you talk to Sato about having that in common? Or have any sort of flag like her? A pin could be cute! It wouldn't get in the way or-"

Serra's eyes were starting to sparkle until she met Morgan's eyes, all of that glimmer fading at her unmoved expression. They sat there together, in silence, with Serra perched over the edge of the couch and with Morgan behind her desk. Until Morgan sighed, lifting another cigarette and lighting it.

"Serra, there's no... community, or friendship there, that is of interest to me. Sato is good at her job, and I don't dislike working with her. But that's where the commonalities end."

"But-"

"Stop. She has some old-fashioned views and a desire to be seen and acknowledged, that I... lack." 

A flash of memory. Her first days as a paralegal, one of the other women handing out pins and flags in the office to anyone who wanted them on some sort of remembrance day. One taken thoughtlessly, a way of sending a more emotional signal on her otherwise empty desk. 

Serra didn't seem to understand, an expression of confusion- and that familiar pout- beginning to form. 

"Listen, if someone pointed out a random Add on the street, said 'you're both androids, go ahead, be friends', would you want to drop everything to have a chat about android stuff and pet food tastes?"

"... I suppose not. But, Adonai, we could still be friends- even if it's not about that."

Morgan nearly bit through her cigarette from the sudden desire to grind her teeth together. Taking a steadying drag, she gave Serra an unimpressed look.

"Would you? How many times would it have to happen before it got tiring? How many in-jokes you don't find funny would you have to laugh at before you find out that 'community', in this day and age, is the joke? Didn't our last case teach you that?" 

Early days still, stupid enough to get drunk in a bar with her handsy boss, rambling to the Witch about how exhausting the messages and winks and incomprehensible posts all were. Masters hadn't really gotten it and spent most of her time getting Morgan more drinks. And then had laughed at her about it the next morning when they were both hungover and splayed across her office floor, clothes strewn every which way. 

Morgan breathed out a steady stream of smoke, trying to rein in her bitterness for a stunned Serra.

"It's a part of who I am. But not one I chose or feel represents any characteristic that I want to be put forward. I don't care if people notice but signalling to the world is just- a waste of time. Sato's nice enough, though."

Serra nodded slowly, seemingly comprehending the intent Morgan had clarified. 

"I see- I suppose that would become tiring, to feel overshadowed as an individual by an inaccurate perception and desires of others. There's a movie that I think speaks to this rather well, a Don Mancini film that-"

"Serra, we're not watching a movie about being transgender tomorrow. Strike it from the list."

"....Okay. I thought the gore effects and puppetry were quite good, though..."

Serra seemed to still have some questions in her eyes, and Morgan sighed softly, feeling as though she wouldn't be getting to sleep for some time. 

"One more question is what you get. And then just look up the rest. Like I was saying, I'm not representative of the wider whole either."

"Of course, Adonai...! I was a bit curious about what a chaser was?"

Morgan's eye twitched, and she did bite into her cigarette this time- coughing a bit as the awful taste of plastic filter and chemical additives hit her tongue, tossing it into the ashtray and running her tongue beneath her upper teeth to scrape it free of tar.

"A-Adonai? I-I just wanted..."

"Eugh- Where did you hear about that from?" 

Morgan's voice was completely incredulous, nearly disbelieving. She hadn't heard the word in years- not since... Well, probably the Witches first time drunkenly palming her crotch at a bar while confessing her tastes. Though it was less a 'confession' and more 'gloating'. God, she was annoying at the start. And in the middle. And even now.

"Sato mentioned it- offhandedly, as a joke, I believe...? But searches didn't turn up anything related, and she had said she'd tell me when I was older, so I had been meaning to inquire with you."

"I-"

She was beyond words for a few moments, unable to cohere that innocent expression with what Serra had said.

"Is... is it offensive? Should I not have...?"

"No, its- well it wasn't usually a nice thing to call someone. But it's fine. Its just someone who... prefers sex with trans people because they're trans."

"O-Oh, I think I see..."

"Mm."

"Thank you for the answer, Adonai."

"Yeah. Good night, Serra."

"Wait- Adonai!" 

Morgan paused as she stood, adjusting her oversized sweater as she turned to look at Serra, still leaning over the couch, that momentary lull as she processed replaced by a firm and unwavering expression.

"I think it is wrong to objectify people like that, and I'm sorry that you have experienced it."

She almost laughed out loud at the solemness it was spoken with, instead waving the apology off carelessly.

"No, no- it was mostly before my time, the term fell out of favor as people got to make their bodies weirder more easily. Only some outdated, ancient gen alpha would use the term to refer to themselves."

Morgan felt as though, somewhere in the world, in some luxurious hotel, despite the distance and impossibility of knowing for sure- her old mentor sneezed.

Meanwhile, Serra blinked and seemed to take that explanation in stride.

"I see- so in the same way that hormone therapy is no longer perceived as particularly unusual, the sexualization has decreased as well."

"...Yeah, sure, Spearmint."

Padding up the stairs and leaving her to return to sleep mode. Exhausted in a way that left Morgan without any doubt she'd find it difficult to fall asleep. She needed to get out of this stretch of awkward midday naps and restless nights- habit and routine were extremely useful for building and creating expectations.

She laid herself down, closed her eyes, and did her usual mental recap- a relaxing run through of things out of place, groceries needed, a checklist of things to be corrected in the morning for her peace of m- The floor creaked. Her eyes slowly slid open once more, lifting her head from the silk pillows to see Serra peeking her head into the loft room. 

"Adonai-"

"Mm?"

"May I ask you something?"

"Mmm."

"That isn't an affirmative or negative response, Adonai."

"Mmmmm."

Morgan sighed softly, pulling herself upright into a proper sitting position and patting the bed, which Serra wasted no time crossing the room and pulling herself onto- seemingly still quite embarrassed by the creak the already-reinforced springs made. 

"I did want to try to get some sleep, so make it quick."

"Well- I had just wondered if you would like to..."

Her voice trailed off, her gaze looking anywhere but Morgan. And Morgan let her sit in silence for a few moments, lifting another pack of cigarettes from her bedside and lighting one. She breathed out, considering the insinuation for a few more beats, letting Serra sweat.

Movie nights with Serra had meant watching sex scenes together- often uninteresting to Morgan, but each one drew Serra's immense embarrassment and equal amounts of interest and curiosity. So, after an extremely poorly executed 'kabedon' thats failure nearly left Serra in tears, Morgan sat her down to have the talk with her. Or rather, because of her constant internet connection and curiosity, she had a talk with her. Serra could be trusted to stumble onto pornography online somehow. But they'd reached a solution that was equitable. 

It wasn't sex- not really. But it was probably the best way Serra could get something close to the feeling in a world that wouldn't be very kind to her or her desires. And in return for this kinda-sex sometimes, Morgan would get peace- not a word of it outside the apartment, and no more awkward flirtations that would make people think she'd asked her paralegal android to hit on her during the job. Breathing out smoke, she set her cigarette down on her bedside ashtray, shifting her sweater off in a quick motion, Serra's expression going from nearly teary-eyed at the silence to that familiar sparkling joy in the time it took for her head to slip out of it. 

"Adonai...!"

"Relax. I just knew I wasn't going to manage to get some sleep anytime soon." 

This put Serra out for only a few moments before she wriggled out of her own clothing, soft figure slowly exposed as the clothes slipped away. Not a very titillating figure, Morgan mused, thoughts drawn for some incomprehensible reason to a certain prosecutor as she took another drag of her cigarette. And a thought occurred to her, glancing down to her own body- a few very faint circular burn scars on her stomach and inner thighs. She breathed out, lifting her gaze to Serra, arms crossed over her chest in a shy posture.

"Serra, does your skin heal?"

"Ah? Well, um, I think... so...?" She seemed quite alarmed, even as a flush began to rise in her cheeks. "D-did you intend to bite me tonight, Adonai?"

"No, nevermind." 

"Okay........."

Morgan ignored Serra's forlorn tone. She had been considering several things, but instead set the cigarette down and shifted closer. Smoking and fucking her paralegal were hopefully some of the only mannerisms she picked up from that damn Witch. No need to go out of her way to add a third. Not to mention how expensive it could be if she got a taste for mutilating artificial dependents. The bill for Serra's skin alone could bankrupt her.

Serra started at the first touch, Morgan's hands- that would normally never be able to budge the android- finding it easy to make her shift, pushed down upon the bed effortlessly. Despite Serra's awkwardness and bad habit of searching for things that had made her curious during the day during these sessions, she was extremely responsive - trying to mimic the emotional, desperate motions that filled the classic films they'd watched together. Bound had been the most recent one of these, and so Serra was eagerly pressing into Morgan's straying hands, as though trying to build a rhythm out of motions.

Unfortunately, Morgan wasn't often in the mood to fulfill these themed desires of the night, and instead went about sex the way she'd come to enjoy it the most. As an excuse to get close to someone, have complete access to their entire body, and act on whatever urges she felt rise up within her. Killing people during sex was far too messy- sweat, cum, and the emotional component most seemed to require to get into the situation were all distasteful to her. But it was an outlet for something else that she'd needed to gain a better understanding of when she was younger- human bodies, the parts that were weak, that were sensitive, that reacted to touch and could evoke reactions. All of these things were useful for far more than sex- and it happened that an intimate knowledge of the human body made Morgan's practiced hands quite talented at evoking desired sounds.

Serra was no exception- quiet little gasps leaving her lips as Morgan's hands traced up her sides. The sensation and the give of the artificial skin, warm with the heat from Serra's internals, fit Morgan's tastes. Fingertips trailing over the skinny figure, the ribs- solid as bone to the touch, but far far more difficult to break- causing Morgan to pause momentarily. Readjusting her position and pulling herself up further, looking into the wavering gaze of Sera, knees pressing against Serra's hips as she looked at the girl beneath her.

"A-Adonai...? Why did you stop..?"

Morgan didn't respond, looking at the way Serra laid beneath her. Arms bent, panting softly, a deep flush on her cheeks. Her eyes were half-lidded, a gentle pout upon her lips. Her clavicle standing out due to her meager frame. Morgan lifted one of her stilled hands, palm pressing into the center of it, feeling that heat and false strength of the alloyed skeleton within her. 

"Adonai?"

Morgan's hand drifted higher, fingertips tracing up Serra's neck, palm pressing into it. The synthetic muscles giving slightly beneath her firm grasp. Serra's eyes widened slightly, but Morgan didn't squeeze harder- she simply sat atop her, gripping her firmly by the neck, looking down at her without a word. 

"A-Adonai, if you wish to choke me for sexual pleasure, I could pretend- would you want me to recite some of the advice I've researched on hand positioning for safely performing such actions during... intimate relations?"

Morgan didn't speak for a moment, but let her grip lessen, shaking her head. 

"No, that's not my thing."

It wasn't right. Serra was having fun, and with the materials on hand there wasn't any way Morgan could do any sort of permanent harm to her. It would be stupid to do something like that right now. And it wasn't filling her with that same urge that the thought of an eventual end to Serra's existence had. She wasn't all there yet. One quiet sigh was all she let out before she leaned down, her hands drifting down to Serra's chest, startling the android and provoking more quiet little noises from her.

Morgan's hands continued to tease and provoke little noises from Serra, but she felt herself growing more detached from her actions. Groping at her aides chest, her other hand straying down between Serra's thighs, a louder gasp punctuating the girls softer whines. 

"A-Adonai, please!"

Morgan leaned in closer, the merest teasing touch of her finger forcing Serra's rhythmic reactions to grow unsteady and desperate. Serra's hips lifted into her touches, the enjoyment clear on her face. And Morgan looked at her as if she was something alien. Something incomprehensible. Even when Masters had been leading her body like this and giving her ceaseless perverse comments and advice, Morgan hadn't felt like Serra did in this moment. Was she faking? She'd watched the same films, and didn't think those expressions were present in any of them.

She was certain her expression was horrific, but Serra seemed to lost in whatever pleasurable feedback she was getting from the thumb against her clit. Eyes staring up at Morgan without perceiving her, lips mouthing words that Morgan couldn't comprehend. The sensation of sweat, her own- real- and Serra's- an approximation designed by a dead friend- suddenly cold on her skin as a writhing discomfort filled her when she pressed down, leaning into it more, focused on ending this as soon as she could manage.

"A-Adonai-P-Pleaseeee..."

She could hear Serra whispering by her ear, red hair trailing across the girls chest as she lifted her head, feeling completely absent even as she looked the girls eyes. And Serra leaned up, those soft lips she'd pressed her thumb into- meeting Morgan's own- and she was brought back to the moment, to her body, and lashed out the way that felt right. Biting down, feeling the taste of false skin breaking and that unnatural liquid spill into her and Serra's mouths as she pulled away, rubbing at her mouth with the back of her hand. Serra had an expression of confusion, brought down from that moment of joy by pain and forced to reality- coming down from heaven as Morgan pulled herself out of hell.

Morgan didn't have sympathy for the tears in the corners of her eyes, the gleaming red dripping down her lip as she stopped her touches completely, shifting her thighs to completely remove all contact between their bodies.

"Serra. We made a deal. You said you would follow it."

"I-I...."

"This won't happen again. You weren't mature enough- if you can't even follow simple instructions like t-"

"Adonai, please-!"

"You can keep working. And I'll still need your assistance for trials. But this has to end."

Serra was crying now- sobbing fake tears with real emotion. And Morgan didn't feel anything. Not a twinge, not a tug at a heartstring, nothing but bitterness for some misguided hope in providing some guidance for someone just as lost and lonely as-

"P-Please, Adonai, I won't kiss you again, I won't- Y-you can order me, I'll do anything-"

Morgan grimaced as she pulled away, moving over to the edge of the bed, legs hanging off, before she responded. 

"Do you want me to trust you or the command?"

Serra continued to sniffle, but there wasn't an immediate reply as Morgan stood, beginning to get dressed- opening a closet to pull on a shirt, tossing a hoodie onto the bed. As she tugged on some sweatpants, Serra finally managed a wavering, stumbling response.

"E-even when you're mean... and hurt me... you do it like I'm a person. W-when I'm stupid or get something wrong with other people, they just treat it like my programming, or that I'm an Add, s-so it makes sense. B-but for you, it's a personal failing. When I'm wrong or say something that hurts you. So you hurt me back. A-and it made me really happy. It makes me really really happy. Please. Let me... let me try to do better. I-I won't kiss you, I thought... I thought it would make you happy... since you don't like when I touch you... but I-I just wanted to... I'm sorry, Adonai." 

Morgan didn't reply, her bedroom filled with the sounds of Serra's sniffling. Slowly, she turned back towards her, tugging the hoodie on and glancing down at Serra- nude, flushed, and face smeared with tears, snot, and blood. She grit her teeth, keeping a flat expression as she prepared to leave... but gave a quiet sigh. 

"I need to go for a walk. We'll... talk later. You can stay here."

Serra nodded, wiping at her eyes as Morgan left the room, stopping only long enough to pull her shoes on, exhaling as she allowed the coldness she was feeling at her core to seep out completely once she left the apartment.

She returned feeling refreshed. Serra wouldn't have gone into sleep mode, and would've heard the door regardless, so Morgan made her way up to her bedroom without hesitating any further. She wasn't sure how long she'd been gone, but was still surprised by the state of her room when she entered. Inside- Serra's clothes gone and the sheets changed, with Serra snuggled up inside of them, breathing steadily- those orange eyes following Morgan as she approached, slowly removing her clothes once more, slipping beneath the sheets as well.

They laid there together, silent. For some time.

"Is your lip okay?"

Morgan asked, not looking Serra's direction even as she heard the shuffling of sheets to her right side.

"...Yes, Adonai. It's... begun rebinding, but may scar- I don't know that my lips material were designed to... be treated roughly."

Morgan nodded, finally shifting over to look at Serra. Serra was staring back at her- the merest smear of red over a mark in her bottom lip. It wasn't that noticeable- good. 

"Good. We can... continue this, sometimes. If you follow the rules."

"I can be good!"

"...I trust you."

"Thank you, Adonai. I won't let you down."

Morgan nodded, and Serra smiled- a soft, sensitive smile that Morgan returned, making Serra's eyes sparkle as she shifted closer- still not touching Morgan, but with only a few inches between them. Serra gave a mumbled goodnight, and slowly ceased moving- sleep mode, to make Morgan more comfortable, instead of just staring at her all night like she had after their first time doing this.

And Morgan rolled over, shivering a bit, slight smile still on the corners of her lips. 

After a few more minutes of relaxing, steadying her breath, and regaining her composure, she slipped her phone from the bedside table, fingers tapping out a message before her good sense could stop them.

"Do you know how awful it feels to realize another bad habit of yours rubbed off on me?"

It took mere moments for a soft ping to sound in reply.

"lol which kink this time"

Morgan pressed her lips together, laying her phone back down without responding.

She enjoyed the complete quiet, the lack of any urges pulling at her, a contentedness that made it hard to keep from smiling, slowly drifting off, the way she had in the years before Serra's presence and the recent cases. Peaceful, dreamless sleep only a few moments away as she relaxed completely.

She'd been intending to go out and hurt someone. Hurt them badly. Slowly. Crack bones where metal ones wouldn't bend. Draw blood that was real instead of fake. And then Serra had spoken. And she'd gone for a walk. A regular walk, around the block a few times, without concern for cameras or anything else. Smiling the entire time. Because she'd found a way to hurt something that couldn't be hurt.

You just had to make it love you.

Chapter Text

Adonai was stressed. She was good at hiding it, good at the usual dismissive comments about scenes she disliked during our movie night like nothing had changed. But it had. A few nights ago she had been frantically sending texts with the pings of responses coming just as quickly. She'd let her cigarette burn down to where it rested between her index and middle fingers before letting out a quiet "Ow.". I was allowed to care for the injury (after all, I am officially her medical Add- although I only made sure it was disinfected and bandaged.) while she remained distracted. But she was on edge. It was impossible to ignore.

There was normally a 'flow' to the way she smoked, but she'd begun finishing a cigarette while getting the next one ready. Our... nights together, which had been increasing in frequency, stalled once again. It felt more and more as though Adonai was going through the motions, instead of being present in her life. It was upsetting. I didn't know what to do. There were so many conflicting perspectives, so many films that conveyed different ways to bring someone back to you, nothing that seemed useful to draw from in this moment.

I felt a need for a word. A widely understood definition to link us more closely. Assistant didn't feel good. Partner was... better, but Adonai spoke it dismissively. Girlfriends wasn't quite correct for us. I wasn't allowed to talk about what we did, or even be particularly warm towards Adonai outside of the house. Part of the initial rules laid down focused on a lack of touch- no kisses, caresses, or even hands held. She was allowed to touch me however she wished. I always wanted her to do more. She rarely did. Even if our relationship was complicated, and strange, I felt that made sense. I was complicated, and strange, and Adonai must be too. It made sense my efforts to be together with her would be difficult. I thought I might have a proper word for this in mind.

But that didn't stop it from hurting when I was left without any ideas of what was to be done. Asking her directly what was wrong had just led to Adonai giving me a strange look and saying I was reading into things too much, and to go and watch my videos. I asked Yumi if she knew how to fix communication issues in a relationship, and all she could do was give me a sympathetic expression and a few words of advice before sending me home with a weak "...Good luck."

To Adonai, I was a person- someone who could be incorrect and be taught and needed things to function. The best chance I had was conveying what I wanted- what I needed from her. And we'd be able to reach a further point in our relationship. This was the most common thread suggested in the romance genre. Other genres were less helpful, and I tried to ignore the tragedy and breakups that occupied movies I would otherwise have quite enjoyed pondering.

I made my initial arguments in my head- how since that night a month ago, I hadn't overstepped her boundaries, and I'd proven I could be good and listen without the use of formal, system level commands or orders. How she had seemed to be enjoying herself more, spending longer touching me. Of the concept of reciprocation and a desire to do things to make her happy, like she made me happy. 

I made my way to the front door of her apartment, which unlocked at my presence, taking a few moments to gather myself. I opened the door, already calling out to Adonai- but the word died in my throat as I saw her drinking with someone I didn't recognize. Or- no, when I had been helping Adonai clean, I had uncovered a few buried, hidden images of her with this woman. Older, sharper, a Modded arm gleaming with gold at the joints. And she had her other arm around Adonai as they sat together. I walked inside, Adonai's eyes flicking up to see me. The other woman barely gave me a second glance, pouring into her glass from- a bottle I recognized, a brand that had been kept in Father's basement. More expensive than anything Adonai drank by far. 

"Serra-" Adonai spoke, and I straightened up, staring at her. "This is Victoria Masters, my... former employer, when I was starting out as a paralegal." The older woman cackled, hand lifting to smack Adonai's back.

"Come on, give me more credit than that- you learned everything you know from me, Freckles. But it seems I'm out of the loop- who's this cute brat you've got staying with you now?"

Adonai's expression was strange. Different. I didn't recognize it on her features for a moment. I'd seen it upon people she'd talked to, seen it on witnesses during trials. But it felt so out of place. Adonai was always assured and collected- even when on the backfoot, there was some measure of composure. So... why was Adonai ashamed? 

Was it of me?

I stood, standing stock still, as Adonai seemed to try to nudge me to introduce myself with her gaze alone.

"My name is Serra Ashur. I am Adonai's paralegal and her..." I quickly did a search, pulling up the term I had come to feel fit our relationship the best. "...situationship."

This sent Victoria into a loud, expressive laugh that made me take a step back, Adonai's expression contorting further. She was... ashamed of me. Ashamed of what we were. With everyone- even in our-no, her home. Lifting her glasses and using her fingers to wipe tears from her eyes, still chuckling, Victoria leaned into Adonai further, whispering something to her that made her stiffen up. 

She was touching Adonai, so freely and without concern. Her hand wasn't just draped over her, she pulled her closer, almost making Adonai sit on her lap as they shared a conversation without me. I could have heard, if I increased my sensory systems sensitivity, but... I couldn't manage it.

It was humiliating, to stand and feel left out- was this what it was like when Adonai and I discussed things in front of others? Explained or worked through problems together? Shared secrets I cherished? 

And then she spoke again.

"Serra- go hang out with Sato for awhile longer. I'll... I'll let you know when you can come home." 

It didn't feel like home anymore, but I opened my mouth to argue- and the room became cold as Adonai spoke again, more quickly.

"Serra, leave. That's an order."

Internally, everything worked perfectly. I turned, left the apartment, left the building, and only once standing on the street was I freed from the unbreakable shackle of command. And started sniffling on Adonai's doorstep. I knew trying to re-enter would prompt my body with my memories of her command and halt me, until I was allowed by her.

So I stood, sniffles in the quiet evening slowly silent. Because there was no one to hear or care about them. She'd told me to go to Sato's, but she hadn't ordered me. So I simply stood outside the building. And waited.

The Witch had a way of corrupting everything she touched. She had certainly done so to Morgan. And it wasn't... unwanted, but a strange compulsion nonetheless. Especially for someone who tried to remain at a distance from everything.

When Morgan had been young, in the midst of college- that shabby mask she'd built as a child had been cracking. Films and introvertedness have their limits for keeping an insatiable void going. Humanity was coming less easy every day, and the urge was harder to suppress and cultivate. Even David's friendship hadn't stabilized her much at all. And then Masters had swayed into her life. A young, quiet, trans paralegal- was exactly what got the Witches rocks off at the time. 

And so, drunken, shirt buttons undone and pants by the doorway, an empty look in her eyes, on top of the Witch and attempting to choke the life out of her boss, Morgan had been prepared to bring that strained, empty existence of hers to an end- no escape from this urge, no way to disconnect herself from this death. She'd be caught. And Morgan would die.

She hissed in pain, forced out of memories by the sensation of burning against her shoulderblade, grimacing at the nude older woman beneath her- whose free hand was lifting a cigarette that had marred Morgan's back. 

"Ow."

"Come on, Freckles, I thought you were into this shit now."

"I never was. You just do what you want and expect your partner to go along with it."

"Hmm, maybe it's just with you, because I know that you're so willing to move to my beat~"

Morgan gave her a glare, which only provoked Masters to snort and roll her eyes, yanking Morgan closer by the handful of red hair she'd grabbed.

"You're slowing down- getting old? Outta practice?" 

Morgan's expression became even more dour, pressing forward, meeting Masters hips and shivering as the Witches inner thighs brushed so intimately against her own. This provoked another noise from Masters, smirking up as Morgan resumed the frentic, exhausting pace her old boss favored. 

"If I'm- getting old- then whats left- of you?"

She was already tuning out the reply, the sensation of the Witch arching her back, their chests pressed together making her body heat up, throat full of acid from the smoky, shameless kisses Masters had been forcing onto her before Serra's arrival. 

Serra-

Distracted Morgan further from the scene. Body on autopilot, mind flickering through the faces Serra had made. Some she hadn't seen before. A different type of pout. One that felt more real. It was deserved- she'd been short with her. But... keeping her and Masters apart had felt... important, in the moment. 

The Witches corruption was older, more practiced and poised than her own. Even a whispered mockery about even a sexual relief Add being good because of how few people Morgan had left to mirror and lean upon- had an effect on her normally effortless composure. Bile in the back of her throat, disgusted for letting Serra see her in a position of weakness when she'd just begun hanging onto her every word.

The Witch had won, that night- even though she was younger and stronger, she'd been drunk and the Witch was sober, despite how much she'd drank. Making it easy enough for her to turn the tables- sitting atop the shattering Morgan and choking her, ignoring the Morgan shaped things's useless scratching at her hands and face. Leaning in and whispering, knowing, and not understanding. But immensely entertained. And urging the fragments of Morgan to keep fighting and writhing beneath her. And then she'd slid off of her. Let her go. And offered to take her gambling. 

What was left of Morgan had followed, numbly. Confused. Clothes a mess. And found a new sliver of identity to fill in the cracked mask. They'd stayed at the casino all night, both of them losing badly. But it got Morgan over the worst of that emptiness for the moment. 

The Witch came beneath her, Morgan more than familiar with this woman's tells in particular. Sweat mixing, both of them breathing heavily- the right side of Morgan's back scored with slashes from long, deadly nails. Her chest and collarbone marred with bites. And a few new cigarette burns too. She groaned under her breath as she pulled away, deciding she'd gotten off lightly this time. 

"Freckles, be a dear and bring me the rest of that bottle-"

"Get it yourself."

She stumbled out of her bedroom, slumping forward in the nude, leaning on the back of the couch Serra had made her home. A blanket, where Serra curled up for movie nights. A few nicknacks on the table she'd reluctantly bought for her- even one of those stupid plastic creatures. It was unbelievably ugly, and she was lucky the Witch had been more focused on pawing at her and drinking than inspecting the state of the apartment.

She sighed again, soreness wearing on her- she needed a shower, but leaving Serra waiting outside would be the wrong message to send. She picked her pants and underwear up from the floor, dressing and buttoning up her shirt as she slipped into jogging shoes.  Her clothing was... ruined, by the awful scent of that woman's cigarette brand. Where did she even buy them? They seemed designed to linger and haunt her. A more immature Morgan would let her know when she'd burned the clothes. The Morgan of today made a mental note to get them dry-cleaned, even with a scowl on her lips.

Morgan made her way down to the front of the building, surprised not to see Serra standing right outside the doors. She stepped out, felt the gently falling rain and understood- noticing that bright green figure under a next door awning. She approached, looking over Serra. Not too wet- she'd gotten under cover right when it had started.

 Serra had a firm, serious expression- signs of tears having been wiped away still fresh. Along with the slight off-color mark on the center of her lower lip, where Morgan had bitten her. It hadn't healed perfectly. Or maybe it had, and Serra had been grown capable of carrying some scars in her life. Morgan had just provided the first external one. 

... And a few of the internal ones. Not the last of those.

"Spearmint."

"Yes, Adonai?"

Serra's gaze ran over Morgan, clearly noting the hair falling out of her clip, the marks on her neck, and the smeared lipstick. Maybe more. Exhaustingly good eyes on the girl.

"What's on your mind, Serra? Share a bit."

"Adonai, my mind is capable of doing and processing much more than a bit of data extremely rapidly, as you know very well know. If I spoke what was on my mind, we would be here for several hours, at least."

"Well- I'm glad it's more than a bit."

"..."

"Because that's... that's the littlest kind of data, right? And you'd make a pretty bad computer if..."

"..."

"... Fair enough. Speak your mind anyway."

Serra breathed out, beginning unsteadily, unrehearsed.

"I... was going to confess. And ask to be girlfriends... or something."

This was not what Morgan had been expecting, blinking in surprise as Serra charged onwards.

"I-I wanted to be more than something in your apartment, and I... I wanted it to be our apartment, and to be able to do things for you, and be allowed to do things to you."

Morgan felt in her pocket for a pack of cigarettes- nothing. Damn it. She took a slow, calming breath of regular city air. Tinged with the Witch's cigarette stench. Disgusting.

"Serra. I..."

"I know, Adonai. You're with her, or something. And you're taking care of me and we shouldn't be more and it's weird and my feelings are weird and we wouldn't be able to tell anyone anyway-"

"Serra, stop."

Serra was working herself towards tears, and Morgan was put on the spot. A crying girl on her doorstep was memorable, and unpleasant. Her apartment was inaccessible in the moment- having this conversation with Masters in the peanut gallery would be a nightmare. And so she did the only thing she could think of off the top of her head.

"... Do you want to go gambling?"

Serra blinked in confusion, frowning as though Morgan was trying to avoid the question. Morgan lifted her hands placatingly, realizing her palms were bare- unpleasant. But then saw the still-bandaged cigarette burns on her bare fingers from a few days ago and swallowed back her annoyance.

"There's a place where I play poker nearby. There won't be anyone there right now, but I know where the key is, and it'll be warmer and nicer than the street. We can talk and... figure something out."

Serra continued to blink, those bright orange eyes and their lines blurring.

"That's ... not a no?"

Morgan felt an urge to go all in. Tell her yes, she'd go out with her. Get Serra hooked, see how letting her in would change her. She could practically envision the way Serra would light up, would grow ever more dependent on her- Morgan would be able to-

That fucking cigarette smell. 

Her frustration boiled over. The sensation of burns, nails, hands, and lips that had been pressed against her body throbbing in pain. She snuffed out that long, drawn out desire. Worthless to her. She needed an outlet now.

"Listen, Serra- you'd be better off giving up on me. On this. If you're going to want the type of romance you see in movies out of me."

Serra frowned, the younger girl able to detect the change in her tone but not able to identify the source.

"What? Adonai-"

"I'm not going to let you touch me like you want. I don't let anyone do that. I won't let you, regardless of what we're called."

"But-"

Morgan grit her teeth, stepping closer, leaning down over Serra's confused posture.

"The Witch is different. It's a... favor. An unpleasant one. Do. Not. Ask."

She cut off the question on Serra's tongue, silencing the girl once again.

"We're not going to kiss under the moonlight, I won't snuggle up with you under the blanket for a movie night, and we will not do the things the Witch and I do."

Serra stood, stunned and unresponsive for a few pregnant moments, the soft patter of rain filling the quiet as they stood there. Morgan breathing heavily, struggling to recompose herself.

She closed her eyes, rubbing her bare hands over her face, fighting back a sigh. Well. Back to the old way of things, then. They'd worked well enough for a time. Maybe her paralegal would be a bit sullen, but-

"Okay."

"Hm?"

Morgan blinked, hands lowering to look at Serra's determined face- holding back tears and pouting, but not wavering in Morgan's sight like she had been just a moment ago.

"That's... fine. Like you said. We could figure something out. I... I really like you, Adonai. And movies taught me- even if it's hard, or difficult, or a woman is married to some sucky guy when you're seeing her-"

"Wait, that last one-"

"It's worth it to try! And I... really want to try with you. It's the first time I've felt like this. And I don't want to give up on experieces... without trying my best."

God, she wished she had a cigarette. Morgan sighed, standing up straight and thinking it over before she gave a single nod.

"Alright. Fine, then. We'll figure something out, Spearmint. Let's go get out of the chill."

"...Adonai?"

"Yeah?" 

"Could we... hold hands, if you were wearing gloves?"

Morgan considered this too- figuring she'd probably earned something, for such an earnest effort. She wasn't heartless, despite what various papers and shitty, curvy prosecutors speculated.

"Fine. If you're running up to the apartment to grab them, get me my lighter and cigarettes too. They should be in my jacket pocket."

"Mm!" 

Serra was gone in an instant, Morgan's hair shifting slightly as the girl dashed past, hurrying into the building. She shook her head, glancing up at the rain clouds, leaning up against the building to savor a few minutes of silence.

"...Wait, was I thinking of byte? Isn't that the smallest?"

She didn't have her phone either. Shit.

Serra went up the stairs three at a time- wincing as she heard one of them crack gently from her powerful hops, pulling open the door to their apartment and getting more excited for her first date with Adonai. Sure, it was going to be in some cruddy backroom meant for illegal gambling, but it would also be just the two of them, holding hands and talking about feelings. Like she'd wanted! The rules were nothing compared to that. Progress! A relationship with Adonai!

And then she caught sight of Victoria Masters, on her spot on the couch, nursing a drink while loosely wrapped in her blanket. The woman's eyes evaluated her for a few moments before speaking, 

"Hey, brat- your situationship coming up anytime soon?" 

Serra bristled, standing up to her full height- about eye level with the sitting woman. She crossed her arms, putting on her most confident smile before replying.

"I will have you know, as of three minutes and four seconds ago, Adonai and I have 'a thing'. And are going to have a date."

"Oh my! Congratulations. Should I toast?"

Masters didn't seem as put off by this as Serra had expected, the woman's face returning her smile while Serra was left blinking and feeling a bit underwhelmed.

"Um. No, but, do you know where Adonai's jacket is?" 

"Mmmm, might've tossed it behind the counter. We were stripping down pretty quickly after you got kicked out."

A barb...! Perhaps she was more upset than appeared. Serra took solace in that as she circled around, finding the jacket in a heap on the floor and tugging Adonai's cigarettes and lighter from the pockets. She knew where Adonai kept several pairs of gloves, pulling a set from the drawer in her desk. Masters watched her, sipping and relaxing all the while.

"Brat. Serra. You know that girl's not built for cute dates and tender touches."

Serra looked at the older woman, her eyes softer around the edges than they'd been with Adonai in the room. She shook her head. 

"Maybe not for you. But we're going to figure something out."

This did seem to surprise Masters, a wry grin rising on her lips.

"Well- best of luck to you, brat. If I eat my words, I'll buy you a drink."

"... I'm good. I don't think Adonai would approve of me drinking with you."

The woman snorted, rolling her eyes. She nursed her whiskey as Serra turned to go, pausing for a beat as she heard the delayed reply when she opened the door.

"At least you have better sense than she does."

Serra left, lighter and cigarettes in one hand and a pair of black gloves in the other. Returning them to Adonai was a matter of moments, and she could see the way Adonai visibly relaxed upon taking her first drag, cigarette held between her gloved fingertips.

Then, hesitantly, she held out her other hand to Serra, the younger girl taking it as they walked out into the rain, warm hand in cool glove.

Chapter Text

She was breathing heavily, sweat making her shirt cling to her skin as she twisted. Legs spread, able to feel and truly savor the physicality rushing through her in a way she otherwise never could. Her lips parted, smile breaking through despite herself. Before she brought the pipe down a final time, hitting low on the prone strangers spine and provoking a loud, gruesome CRACK that only invigorated her more. The body stilled. Her gloved grip loosened, letting the pipe drop with a bouncing series of clangs as she took a step back. 

Some resellers for a meaningless portable that was all the rage. Expensive, but worthless. Maybe it was stolen, which could be useful to bolster whatever type of motive was assigned here. A truck full of them that would almost certainly disappear before the bodies were reported. A mess that cleaned itself up. She was preparing to start the usual ritual, the cleaning, the perfection, taking in the red splattered across the trucks front flowing into the paint stroke against the concrete wall. Beautiful work. A trip well worth how out of her way it had been. 

But then there was an imperfection- a twitch in the first body, the one with blood already beginning to pool- and the exhilaration was snuffed out in a heartbeat. Some out-of-date Modded organ or cocktail of drugs keeping its adrenaline high enough to get back up (barely)? Whatever it was, it was disgusting. And would quickly be rectified. The pipe had already dripped blood where it lay, so she considered that tool used up. Paint drying on canvas.

She looked around as the groans grow in volume, the corpse-to-be slowly pulling itself up. It's unnecessary. She knows this space better than her own apartment right now. An idea occurs- and is acted upon. The cracked portable, freshly removed from its packaging and just as freshly dropped next to a tire is picked up in a single smooth motion before her hand grasps the long hair, already sticky with blood. It let out a cry of pain- hands reaching back, desperately grabbing at her as she gave one brutal yank, forcing the kneeling figure to bend back to look at her. Eyes unfocused, scrabbling hands getting caught on her top, tugging and scratching uselessly- but the sensation is unpleasant. She stares down, doing some mental measurements, lifting the new model of portable (Better battery life! Thin enough to fit in a bodikon dress pocket! And strong enough to survive a truck rolling over it!) and fitting it into their mouth. The broken jaw helped. 

It's a few focused beats of pressing with all her weight down, the scratching hands becoming more annoying as she feels those contracted, desperate throat muscles start to give, able to see blood welling as those sharp, metallic corners carve their way out and dig into the platysma. The attempts to push her off stop completely - its arms drop. She lets go immediately after, leaving it kneeling there, head looking up at the empty high rises. She pats a disgusted hand over her chest, Morgan looking down at her completed work. She'd turned it around at the end, dug up treasure while planning for salvage. 

She huffs, checking under the nails for threads or skin and deciding it'd be worthwhile to just carve up the hands as punishment for ruining a perfectly good shirt, taking an extra few moments to grimace at the corpse that had touched her.

"I don't even let my girlfriend do that. What made you think you had the privilege?"

Morgan arrived home not much later, gloves and shirt exhanged for unmarred ones. She was greeted at the door by Serra- who wasted no time holding out a hand, fingers spread. Morgan maintained her indifferent expression as she lifted her own hand, pressing her gloved palm into Serra's- letting the girl give it a gentle squeeze. The closest thing to an intimate hug Morgan would allow in less than extreme circumstances. Serra had no complaints, but held the hand for a few more long moments- sniffing at the air, as unobtrusively as she could manage.

Looking for the telltale stink of a different brand of cigarettes, Morgan had inferred a few weeks back. Quite the untrusting lover she'd found herself involved with. It was almost cute. Her own brand muted the last remnants of the heavy scent of iron.

"Welcome home, Adonai."

She'd begun stressing the syllables differently recently- more melodic and gentler consonants than Serra had begun with.

"I'm home, Serra."

"..."

Ignoring Serra's soft smile, Morgan slipped her hand from the grasp of the girl, stepping past her into the apartment. Sera's blanket still lay in a wrinkled heap on the couch, but her other nicknacks had been moved up to the bedside table in Morgan's room. 

It was... odd. Morgan was willing to admit that much. Her bed had become their bed. Serra remained on her side of it unless she'd rolled closer to talk or when they were having sex. But it was a change in the organization of her life and habits. Shifting in bed upon waking now meant the sight of Serra's sleeping, comfortable figure, slight chest evenly rising and falling. The dim glow of her barcode actually made it more convenient when grabbing for her phone in the early hours of morning.

But it was odd. Serra and her would work different hours, but there was enough overlap she was often falling asleep beside her or waking up to her presence. And every week both of their schedules stayed clear for a film, without a single missed day so far. Last weeks had been a classic year 2000 superhero flick (that was when those films got big, right?)- and had been entertaining enough, although its thesis had been particularly funny to Morgan.

There was no equal-and-opposite good to her 'evil'. Just the House, giving her a seat at the table. Then again- perhaps she was too small to figure into whatever the universes mysterious plans were. It was an appealing thought- carte blanche through the weltgeists own underpaid bureaucracy (Serra had been spending too much time with Makoto. Morgan was tired of thinking about Hegel). A rounding error. 

Morgan sat at her desk and slipped her gloves off, soreness from her earlier exercise becoming impossible to ignore. Not to mention the steady, soft pains from her encounter with the Witch last month. Serra hadn't let her injuries go untreated for long, and the scarring had faded better than it usually did- but the pain had sunk in regardless. It had been easier to ignore while she was doing more important things, but now at her desk and preparing to relax and bask in the afterglow of the feeling it had returned.

Cost of doing business, unfortunately.

She closed her eyes, wondering if now was the right time for a short nap- Serra would leave her alone if she slept and would occupy herself with videos, and she'd handled her current clients paperwork before heading out. Leaning back in the chair, Morgan prepared to drift off for a few minutes- 
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
-but her eyebrows knit together at the annoying sound at her door.

She cracked an eyelid, returning Serra's expression of mild surprise. A careless gesture sent her partner to open the door, leaning her head back once more. She wouldn't get a chance for a nap regardless if it was some delivery Serra had ordered- this was just an effort to gain at least a few more moments of peace.

"Oh!! Prosecutor Rockford...!"

Morgan's eyes snapped back open.

"Just Emma is fine, Ms. Ashur."

"Um- Just Serra is fine, then."

She stood from her desk, picture of put-together composure, slipping her gloves back on as she moved across the apartment. 

"What's the occasion, Emma?"

Emma, in contrast to Morgan's immediate composure... looked rather worn. Even by her standards.

"Mmm... I was given the address for your place by Reyes-"

Damn Sunshine. 

"-although I suppose I could have just looked at one of your business cards any time."

... Fair enough.

She cleared her throat, adjusting her glasses a bit and looking over the pair. 

"I was... pushed out of the office and told to take it easy, since it'd been some time since I've slept or... taken any sort of break."

"Would you like to borrow a couch or...?"

"Oh, no- thank you, though. It's hard enough to get to sleep on my own bed."

Emma gave a little laugh, scratching at her soft cheek awkwardly. 

"Um- Reyes said when she got off she would camp outside my place to make sure I didn't access any files I have there either. And if she had to keep an eye on me in the apartment itself, I'd just be even more worried about her knocking some of my figures over. So would I be able impose upon you two...? Hopefully just for a few hours."

Yawning gently, she looked between the two sharing a glance of their own- Serra giving a little shrug that Morgan returned after a pregnant beat. 

"... I don't see why not. Come in. Can I get you anything...?"

An imposition, but as Morgan invited her in, she found her eyes locked onto Emma as she swayed over the boundary into the apartment, stepping aside to let her make herself at home. Gaze following her all the while. It seems her little 'lockout' had occurred before any details of her excursion had broken. The timeline would be a bit vague- she'd made absolute sure of that fact. Which might make this a near-perfect alibi. 

She didn't need one, of course: no evidence could have possibly linked her little walk to that gruesome, brutal, etc. tragedy. But it was better to keep Emma close, just in case. She blinked at a sudden bump against her side- glancing down to see Serra, pouting up at her. 

"Spearmint...?"

She looked up at Morgan with a certain expression that seemed out of place for her roommate, frowning up at her and murmuring a request.

"Stop looking at her like that. I'm right here."

"Like...oh!"

Morgan almost laughed out loud. Emma had sat down by the counter, and was looking at them curiously. Morgan patted Serra's head, giving her jealous little robot a smile before heading over to the other side of her counter, standing straight in her kitchen against Emma's slumped, sleepy posture in the stool.

"So, have you, um, always liked Adds?"

Morgan freezes in the middle of pulling a trio of glasses out, the sensation of being a deer in headlights grasping her for only a moment before she continues her motion, setting two glasses down. Emma had good eyes- something in their behavior and Serra's whispers must have connected the dots for her. No use denying it.

"Her name is Serra, as you know, and I'd like you to refer to my partner a bit more politely than that."

Morgan's tone became a bit more flat, in a way she figured fit for defending a lovers personhood. Emma merely blinked.

"Oh- I meant, um, you checked with her before letting me come in. I thought it was polite of you. I see. My apologies... and... congrats?"

...Damn it. Complete misread. She could practically hear the plastic jangle of chips clattering to the floor from that misplay.

She cleared her throat, gesturing to her alcohol collection and receiving a shake of the head- instead pouring water for the three of them. Serra takes the opportunity to lift hers from the table, eyes looking over the disheveled prosecutor in front of her. Emma looked back, blinking lazily.

"Hello, Serra. Is Morgan feeding you well? Keeping her...electric... bill... paid...?"

Serra blinked, looking around the apartment, lights clearly on.

"Um, yes... she bakes something for me to eat at least a few times a week."

Emma had an awkward, apologetic expression on her face as she glanced at Morgan. 

"That's... good. Sorry, I've never been good with k... people younger than me."

Serra's cheeks puffed out, but instead of responding she turned away and padded down to her couch, curling up amid her blanket. 

Morgan had an eyebrow raised as Emma shared another look with her.

"Electric bill?"

"I'm tired, alright? And I haven't really talked with an... Add, like that before."

The hesitance made Emma's understanding of Serra's situation obvious. It was probably just for Morgan's sake she laid her cards on the table. But she had gotten a bit more unsteady talking directly with Serra- because of her being AI? Or was she truly bad with... 

"So you bake?"

Morgan blinked as her train of thought was interrupted, gesturing around the kitchen. 

"Sometimes. Any requests?"

"Oh. Not off the top of my head. You could bring something into the office sometime if you'd like, though. Anything with sugar is good for a late night."

Morgan's eyes narrowed. Not even a favorite sweet? Did she think Morgan wasn't up to the task? She was almost tempted to bring a croquembouche next week out of spite to show Emma the opportunity missed. But since she was still coasting on the pure satisfaction or her earlier work, she responded with a small, innocent smile.

"If I have time."

"Mmm. Busy?"

Morgan shrugged, switching to her worn coworker mask, leaning over to speak to Emma at eye level.

"Some days more than others. You, though- I think you're more wiped than I've ever seen you."

"I was going to head home, but a case caught my eye. Some bodies found with a couple people stealing things from their truck."

"Oh?" Her heart stilled, Morgan's mask holding firm as she made a gentle, concerned expression.

"Seemed like some scalper deal gone bad, but the thieves were saying they just found the people dead and decided to steal some things and run for it."

"And you'd thought it could be Heartbreak?" She asked, innocently.

"For a moment."

"Oh?" She questioned, curiously.

"Something felt off. Seemed a bit... tryhard. Not quite a copycat but mostly... shallow, the same way those are."

"Oh." She said, flatly.

"Maybe I do need sleep..." Emma yawned. "Ugh, I hope Reyes decides I'm 'played out' and lets me go home soon. I really do feel sorry about dropping in like this."

"It's alright." She stated, kindly. "I'll kick Serra off the couch if you do need to rest your eyes. Or at least need to try."

"Mm. Thanks again. Does she sleep there?" Emma turned her gaze away from Serra, seemingly enjoying a film on her own to distract herself- some black and white mess. 

"Used to." Morgan felt the cold, complete fury at her work being questioned and doubted slowly subside, letting her mask slip away, replaced with Morgan once more. Heartbreak was dead and gone. Her work slipping past Emma's gaze could only be a positive.

"Hm." Emma seemed to pause for a moment, eyes focusing on Morgan through those heavy glasses before asking a question she'd clearly been turning over in her head for some time now.

"So, you don't think she's a kid?"

"No. She's childish and sheltered, but it's different. Makoto reminded me how exhausting children really are."

"Hmmm. I see." Emma kept a flat mask of her own, turning to look to Serra once more. Morgan paused for a beat before continuing.

"She... reminds me of someone I knew in college. With a bit more innocence and a kinder upbringing. But I do feel a degree of attachment."

"... Should you only feel a 'degree' of attachment to your 'girlfriend'?"

"Early days. We're still figuring things out."

"Good luck. Relationship troubles I understand."

"Oh?" Morgan tilted her head. This might have been the most personal anecdote she'd heard Emma let slip.

"Long-distance. Something."

"A... situationship?"

"Mm." Emma seemed to slump a bit in the chair, hands pressed into her cheeks.

"Good luck." Morgan's gaze drifted to the television, frowning slightly. Shaking her head, she looks back at Emma, tone jovial and a warm smile plastered as she asked.

"Would you have gotten me arrested if I'd said I saw her as a child?"

Emma looked up, a curious look on her face.

"Huh? No. Legally, you can do whatever you'd like with her. In fact..." Her expression grew a bit more solemn. "I do believe the State prefers Adds fulfilling that sort of role. A victimless crime." Her eyes drift back to Serra, happily watching- Morgan frowns, staring intently at the screen as she replied.

"Ah. Not pleasant."

"Mm." Emma shrugged. "I'm not worried. About her, at least. You've pretty much indisputably shown you've got her best interests in mind already."

"Hm?" Morgan blinked. "Oh, right." 

Emma chuckled at her bafflement. "Or what, still plan to sell her for parts or whatever your excuse in court was?" 

Morgan remained quiet, staring at the back of that bright green mess of hair, bobbing gently as Serra laughed at a slapstick situation in the film. "...No, I don't."

She straightened out, leaving Emma and crossing the room as she slipped onto the couch next to Serra, crossing her legs.

"Spearmint, didn't we just watch this one? I thought I recognized it-"

"No, Adonai, we watched the one where they meet Frankenstein!"

"But the Invisible Man was there. He's here too."

"It was a sequel hook! The ended the first film on another monster as a gag, as a way of gesturing towards a cinematic universe."

"Huh." Morgan stared up at the screen, starting a bit as Emma slipped onto the couch, giving her and Serra some space, but adjusting her glasses and joining the impromptu movie night.

"Oh, she's gorgeous."

Serra turns to Emma excitedly. "Isn't she!? Unfortunately, despite getting an almost decade-long contract, she wasn't really in that many films..."

Morgan leaned back, letting the two discuss the film over her, taking a slow, steadying breath. A little smile played at the corner of her lips, comfortable and contented. For now, at least. She ought to just relax and enjoy the film.

Serra walked down the street, escorting Emma Rockford the final stretch home. It had been a request from Adonai, and she intended to see it through without fail. 

("Can't sleep anywhere but her own bed my ass- Serra, can you make sure she doesn't conk out like this again before she makes it home?") 

The snoring had been a bit loud, especially during the climax of the movie- it nearly drowned out the fixed boxing match, frustrating Serra enough she started glaring daggers at the prosecutor (after making sure she was asleep). But Adonai had handled it with aplomb, calling Reyes and giving quite a few pointed words that had ended with her, all smiles, escorting a sleepy Emma out the door.

"Serra?"

"Mm?" Serra started, turning to see Emma rubbing her eyes and squinting from the brightness. They were walking through a very nice part of the city, the gleaming, looming buildings making her feel very small. 

Despite her annoyances at Emma's earlier insinuation she was childish, she'd ended up (mostly) forgiving her as they'd talked about the movie together. Adonai had seemed content to quietly enjoy it, but with fewer snide comments. It made Serra realize all over again how much her mannerisms changed in front of others.

"Do you like being a paralegal?" 

"Oh, very much! I've gotten to meet Yumi, and Makoto, and Sosuke...! And it feels like... I'm helping Adonai help people, and learning more about how I want to help people. I... I miss Father, but... it's nice being out in the world. Even if things are harder, or more complicated. And Adonai... is always trying to protect me, without hiding me away from everything."

She can't stop a soft smile from forming, looking at Emma curiously and catching sight of a complex expression behind her glasses for a moment.

"Well, that's good! If you're ever looking for more experiences, let me know if you want to see how the other side lives! I could use a paralegal, too, you know!"

Emma ruined the bright tone with a loud, long yawn, but Serra smiled regardless. 

"Thank you! Perhaps when my part-time job is less... well, when I've learned my work a bit better, I can stop by to say hi!"

Emma chuckled, stopping suddenly and forcing Serra to stumble and twist around to an awkward stop in front of a... truly massive, opulent building. Wow. 

"Well- this is my stop. Thank you for escorting me home, Serra, you're a model gentleman."

Serra smirked, hands planted firmly on her hips from the praise. 

"Never fear- no foe could have stopped me from carrying out Adonai's command! Invisible or not!"

Emma smiled softly, giving a little wave to Reyes, sitting in the lobby with some magazine, who threw up some crass hand sign in response. Probably unhappy with the words Adonai had given her. Serra gave an energetic wave and received an awkward expression in return. 

"Mm, the very picture of the king of knights. Don't let her walk over you too bad. And she should know synthetic skin doesn't heal back perfectly." She winked, tapping her own lower lip and moving to head into the building.

Serra felt a flush rising up to her cheeks, stumbling over a parting barb of her own. "Y-yeah, well, call ahead next time! So you don't see us holding hands or... kissing.." She grew more embarrassed for a moment before huffing once more. "I-if you'd been even a bit earlier, I might not have let you in at all if Adonai wasn't home!"

This made Emma pause for a moment, shaking her head and heading into the extremely expensive-looking building without another word. Serra huffed even louder, arms crossed. Had she always been so frustrating!? Well- forget her! She turned on the spot, stomping down the street and heading back to her- their apartment. Wondering if Adonai would share some of her thoughts on the movie tonight in bed. And, despite her slight annoyance, Serra found a soft smile breaking through.