"Um… are you… okay?"
Thalatha pulled a careful breath. The silk dome above them sighed. Threads along the hard-light sling purred against her breastplate. Her voice came up, slow and measured like she was talking a green recruit through a hallway. "I—"
The sling tightened a hair. It pulled his chest to her pauldron, her hip to his thigh. Something rigid eased against the soft inside of her leg. It wasn't a weapon. It wasn't armor. It was just there—warm through layers, uninvited, real.
Her words tangled. Heat ran up her throat before she could stop it. She felt stupid for feeling it.
"Can you… move… a little?"
He tried to angle away. Honest. Gentle. The webbing creaked. The dome shifted. Rodion did whatever Rodion did, and the lattice found a new balance by pulling them a finger closer.
