Vex still didn't yell.
That was the problem.
She stood squarely in front of Jimmy in the corridor, arms folded, posture locked into that calm-before-dissection stillness. Her tattoos glowed a steady cobalt, not flaring, not dimming—controlled, irritated, watching him like a targeting reticle.
"Explain," she said evenly, "why you froze during the third exchange."
Jimmy shifted his weight. "I didn't freeze."
"You stopped shooting."
"I paused."
"Your pause allowed a plasma bolt to pass six centimeters from my head."
"…Okay when you put it like that, it sounds bad."
Sparky drifted into view. "For the record, six centimeters is within the 'dramatic death' margin."
Vex stepped closer.
Jimmy's pulse jumped. His Mauler-eye gave an ominous twitch.
"No," Jimmy muttered under his breath. "No no no—don't do this now—"
Too late.
His vision slid sideways—not fully out of phase, not a complete breach—but enough. The world peeled back a layer. Armor outlines went translucent. Energy conduits glowed. Heat signatures sharpened.
And Vex—
Jimmy sucked in a breath.
He wasn't seeing through her like before. This was worse. This was clarity.
The reinforced plating of her combat jacket faded just enough to reveal the contours beneath: the smooth curve of muscle along her torso, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, the way the glowing tattoos didn't just sit on her skin but threaded down over her breasts and along her abdomen like living circuitry. They pulsed brighter with her irritation—then flickered when his gaze lingered.
"Oh," Jimmy whispered.
Vex's eyes narrowed instantly. "What."
"Nothing."
"You just said 'oh.'"
"That was a thinking 'oh.'"
"That was not a thinking 'oh.'"
Her tattoos brightened.
Jimmy's vision sharpened further.
He saw the subtle tightening of her muscles. The way her posture shifted—not just anger, but awareness. Her dual heartbeats spiked, overlapping in a faster rhythm.
"Oh no," Jimmy said louder.
"You're doing it again," Vex said flatly.
"I swear I'm not trying—my eyes just—your tattoos go everywhere and then my brain stops working."
Sparky chimed in, delighted. "Confirmed. Neural activity has rerouted from 'combat awareness' to 'appreciative panic.'"
Vex grabbed the front of Jimmy's suit and slammed him back against the wall—hard enough to knock the air out of him, not hard enough to hurt.
"You looked at me," she hissed, "like that during a firefight."
"I looked past you!"
"Jimmy."
"Yes?"
"If you describe anything you just saw—"
"I won't!" he blurted. "I promise. I respect you deeply and fear you tremendously."
Her grip tightened.
Her tattoos flared.
Jimmy's eyes betrayed him one last time—showing him the heat blooming across her skin, the spike of adrenaline, the unmistakable surge of something that was not just anger.
"…Your hearts are racing," he said quietly.
The corridor went dead silent.
Vex froze.
Slowly, she released him.
"…You are not allowed to know that," she said.
Jimmy swallowed. "I didn't mean it like—I mean I did mean it but not—look, I'm overwhelmed."
She turned away, pacing once, visibly collecting herself. Her tattoos dimmed—but not fully.
"This power of yours," she said tightly, "is a liability."
Jimmy rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah. Especially when it decides you're… visually impressive."
She shot him a glare that should have incinerated him.
And yet—
She didn't deny it.
Sparky floated between them. "Observation: mutual tension escalating. Probability of unresolved attraction: seventy-eight percent. Probability of Jimmy surviving next scolding: declining."
Vex exhaled slowly. "You need control."
Jimmy nodded. "You going to help me?"
A pause.
"…Yes," she said. "Because if you look at me like that again without warning, I will shoot you."
Jimmy smiled faintly. "Fair."
She glanced back at him, tattoos pulsing once—sharp, bright, unreadable.
"Get to the training bay," she said. "And keep your eyes forward."
Jimmy obeyed.
Mostly.
And this time, when his heart raced—
He was pretty sure it wasn't just because of his powers anymore.
The training bay was the most honest room on the Stellar Nymph.
No scenery. No clever angles. Just reinforced walls, floating target drones, and a faint hum from the ship's nervous system running underfoot like a pulse. The lights were deliberately flat—no shadows, no romance.
Vex had chosen it on purpose.
"Rule one," she said, pacing in front of Jimmy, "you don't fight your vision. You guide it."
Jimmy stood on the marked line, hands at his sides, jaw tight. "That's very zen of you for someone who threatened to weld my eyelids shut yesterday."
"I'm evolving," she replied dryly. "Hold still."
Her tattoos shifted from cobalt to a clean, instructional white. The drones powered up, hovering into position.
Jimmy inhaled.
The Mauler-eye twitched.
Immediately, the world tried to unfold.
"Nope," he muttered. "Staying here. Normal sight. Boring human eyeballs."
"Good," Vex said. "Now—without activating it—tell me what you think you'd see if it slipped."
Jimmy blinked. "That feels like a trap."
"It's diagnostic."
He hesitated. "You want… like, the science version?"
"Yes."
"Only the science version?"
"…Yes."
Jimmy nodded, closed his eyes for half a second, then opened them again—focused, deliberate. "Okay. Hypothetically. I'd see energy gradients first. Heat. Motion. Probably the ship's power flow under the floor."
"Good," she said. "And me?"
Jimmy paused.
Sparky drifted closer, practically vibrating. "Oh, this is going to go poorly."
Jimmy cleared his throat. "I'd see… uh… your bio-electric field. Strong. Very stable. Your tattoos would be—"
"They are glowing," Vex interrupted.
"Yes, but—different. Like they're layered. Not just on your skin. They thread inward. Over your chest, down your sides—"
Vex slowly turned her head.
Jimmy didn't stop.
"—they react faster than the rest of you. Like emotional shortcuts. When you're annoyed they brighten here," he gestured vaguely, "and when you're focused they tighten, almost like—"
"Jimmy."
"—like they're hugging your muscles."
Silence.
Jimmy froze.
"Oh no."
Vex stared at him.
"Are you seeing right now?" she asked.
"No!" he said quickly. "I'm remembering. From before. Memory-based description."
Her eyes narrowed. "You're describing me very specifically for someone not currently looking."
Sparky chimed in. "He's in what we call the 'verbal spiral.' Happens right before pain."
Jimmy swallowed. "I can stop talking."
"That would be wise."
He nodded vigorously.
Two seconds passed.
Then Vex said, "Continue."
Jimmy blinked. "What?"
"You started," she said coolly. "Finish. Carefully."
This was worse.
"…Your posture," Jimmy said slowly, choosing words like they were landmines. "It's balanced. You distribute weight evenly. Makes you… efficient."
Her tattoos flickered—annoyed, then something warmer.
"And?" she pressed.
"And your heart rates don't sync unless you're stressed or—" He stopped. "Or engaged."
"Engaged how?"
Jimmy winced. "Combat. Or… other high-adrenaline situations."
Her gaze didn't leave him.
"And right now?" she asked.
Jimmy's mouth moved before his brain signed the paperwork.
"Right now they're faster than baseline."
Sparky made a low whistle. "Bold choice."
Vex stepped closer.
Jimmy stayed still. That alone was progress.
"So," she said quietly, "my presence is a distraction."
"Yes," he admitted. "But not in a bad way. More like… my brain keeps prioritizing you."
Her tattoos brightened—just a touch.
"That's unacceptable in a fight."
"I know."
"And yet," she said, "you're being honest."
Jimmy nodded. "I'm trying to learn control. Can't do that if I lie."
She studied him for a long moment.
Then she turned sharply and snapped her fingers.
The drones fired.
Jimmy reacted on instinct—ducking, rolling, sight snapping into sharp focus—but this time, he didn't let it slide. He held it. Narrow. Directed.
The world stayed solid.
One drone dropped. Then another.
Behind him, Vex watched closely.
His shots were clean. His breathing steady.
When the last drone powered down, she spoke.
"…Better."
Jimmy exhaled, grinning. "So I didn't fail the 'don't describe your instructor's body' test?"
She walked past him, close enough that he felt the heat of her skin.
"You failed," she said. "But you failed informatively."
He laughed. "I'll take that."
As she reached the door, she paused.
"Jimmy?"
"Yeah?"
Next time," she said, not turning around, "warn me before you start describing me like that."
Her tattoos pulsed—warm, unmistakable.
"Because," she added, "it's distracting."
The door slid shut.
Sparky hovered up beside Jimmy. "Well. That was intimate."
Jimmy leaned back against the wall, heart racing.
"Yeah," he said softly. "And I wasn't even using my powers."
Somewhere beyond the bulkhead, Vex paused too.
Just for a moment.
Then she kept walking.