Watching the skyline of New Cincinnati pass by, he tried to ignore her reflection, but he could feel her eyes on his back. She was boldly checking out every part of his body. Her gaze lingered on his weapons for only a moment, but hung on his spine. Sin fought the urge to smile. She was trying to make out the lines painted on his armor. He wondered how long it would take the genius to realize they were wings.
Every Legate designed his own and decorated his gear with them. Sin's were supposed to appear as if folded across his back.He had no need for flight, but he desired the embrace of God. That was what the design signified, but he wasn't exactly an artist.
Her eyes moved lower, lingering on his behind. He shifted, lifting his chin slightly and wishing the exo-armor was a little less revealing. When her eyes still didn't leave, he shifted again, grasping his hands behind his back so they hung across his ass, blocking her view. He licked his lips and reminded himself there was no need to blush. He was not a schoolboy, ignorant of why she would look. He was also married.
Ok, not exactly, but that was how the Legates saw it. They'd dedicated their bodies to God and had taken a vow of celibacy. He would not acknowledge her blatant examination of his ass. He wouldn't. He wanted to tell her to keep her eyes to herself, but then she would think it bothered him. She'd be right, but he didn't need totellher that.
Just as his skin began to cool, the train passed into a tunnel. The lights inside the car fought against the darkness, the window a barrier between them. It was a stalemate, only the reflections in the glass winning as the transparency decreased and the girl behind him became much more visible.
Her inspection moved to his neck, lingering over the ponytail brushing his shoulders before reaching his jaw. Then her eyes found his waiting for her in the glass. She gasped, the sound little more than a soft gust of air through the veils, and jerked back, turning her head to the ground. Maybe the odds had evened just a bit.
"Like what you saw?" he asked.
"Yes, Legate," she replied, then realized what she'd said. "I mean, no, Legate."
He turned, fighting the urge to laugh. "Which is it?"
"I am unaware of the proper answer to that question," she whispered, daring to look up.
So he wasn't the only one to feel a little uncomfortable. Sin crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, swaying with the movement of the train. "The answer is the one that's true, Princess."
"You appear to be well-suited to combat, Legate."
He groaned. "Enough with the Legate bullshit, ok? It's Brother Sin, or hell, if you're nice, just Sin will do."
She made a noise that would have sounded like a giggle if it had been louder. "Brother Sin?"
"Oxymoron. Yes, I know that word. My name's Sinclair."
"Yes. Sinclair Cassis, Imperator of the Legionnaires, most venerated Legate in the last decade. You made headlines when you saved George Stephanson in the human rights riots last year."
"So you checked me out, huh?"
He watched her eyes widen. "Yes, Legate. I am sorry if it was offensive. I just -"
"I meant my record," he said with a laugh. "I already knew your eyes work just fine when no one is looking. Saw that for myself."
She looked back to the floor. "I've just never seen a priest before you. I did not expect one to be quite so physically fit."
"That's why you were looking at my ass?" He was grinning at her discomfort.
"No." She looked up at him quickly, the skin around her eyes not flushed like he'd expect from his teasing, but pallid. Her next words were barely a whisper. "Please do not report me for it?"
"Report you to who?" Maybe there was more to this girl than he'd thought. He should have trusted Benedict.
"My employers."
He sighed and pushed himself away from the wall, moving to the chair beside her. "Princess, why are you talking to me now? You've been a little bitch since we left OutLink, but now you'resuddenly different? Never mind the lovely chat we managed to have yesterday. Is it just because you think I'm going to complain or something?"
"The trains are not monitored, Brother Sin."
He thought about that for a moment. "But OutLink and the station are?"
"Yes."
He slowly began to nod. "And I'm assuming the parks aren't. Ok. So if I'm supposed to protect you, why aren't you supposed to talk to me?"
"We are only supposed to answer a direct question. It is considered offensive to offer advice to someone with less intellect, and could be taken as an intentional insult. To prevent this, all Ingénues shall only speak when spoken to, and only to answer a question."
