"Eric."

At the sound of her voice, Eric catapulted awake, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. He looked around for a moment, only relaxing when he realized he was in his own living room. Thirteen was standing there, staring down at him, confusion etched across her face.

"Sorry…" he muttered as he stood up from his spot on the couch. "How long was I out?"

"Two hours."

Two hours… his brow furrowed at that information. It felt like it had been two years, the way he'd been dreaming. Even now, it was all still so vivid to him – the scarred remnants of a battlefield, filled with fallen soldiers from both sides. Smoke curled up into the sky from myriad craters that marred the surface of the planet, and spent brass casings littered the ground every which way. As bad as the sights had been, the sounds and the smells had been even worse.

Somehow, more than anything, those never left him; whenever he woke up, he could always recall them with pure clarity – the coppery scent of blood and gore, and the stench of spent gunpowder punctuated by the sickening miasma of plasma-burned flesh. Even now, the recollection of it made his stomach roil.

And the sounds… every which way, wounded men and women from both sides cried out in agony. No matter their race, their vocalizations had long since deteriorated from any discernible language, instead joining together in a universal exclamation of pain. As he listened, the sound reached a crescendo, washing over him as he laid in his crater, the ear-piercing noise drowning out damn near everything else.

"Eric."

And just like that, he was back in his living room. Eric blinked once more, then turned back to Thirteen.

"Sorry," he offered. "I spaced out. What time is it?"

"Almost three in the afternoon."

"Hm… I guess we'd better get going soon, then." He stood up and stretched, then ran a hand through his unkempt beard. Despite his distaste for the act, he supposed it was about time to trim it a bit.

After all, he'd already accepted the OVA's request. There was no sense in sticking it to them anymore now that they'd beaten him. And wasn't that a thought? He'd spent most of his post-war life trying to fuck the OVA over the same way they'd continuously done to him, and now he'd essentially given all that up in favor of cold, hard cash.

Not that cared, that is – money was still money, as far as he was concerned.

Shaking those thoughts from his mind, he turned towards Thirteen, who was still standing there, staring at him, unsure of what to do. He gave a small grimace at that; she was still so regimented… it was almost creepy, like the government had somehow done their best to take away her humanity in favor of making her their puppet.

Idly, he was aware of the fact that they'd actually probably done something very similar to that, and he made a mental note never to dwell on that idea again.

He wasn't exactly Thirteen's biggest fan, but she hadn't done anything to him, and even besides that, despite his best efforts, there was still enough of a shred of common decency left in him that he could still feel disgusted about the methods used to create a person like her.Whatever the military had done to turn her into an Angel, it couldn't have been pretty.

"I'll be outside in a few minutes," Eric grunted as he stepped past her. "Wait for me in the car."

"Affirmative," she replied, her voice monotone.

Then, as he watched, she turned and marched outside, stopping only to close the front door behind her. Eric watched her go before shaking his head, then disappearing into his room to grab his keys.

***

"What is this?"

"What's what?" Eric asked without looking over to her as he carefully weaved through traffic.

"The noise," Thirteen specified. "What is it?"

"It's music," Eric replied. "Don't tell me you're not familiar with music?"

She shook her head. "I heard some of the other soldiers playing some over the radio now and again…"Eric grimaced. Of course. This was becoming a routine for them – she'd express confusion about something incredibly mundane, he'd be surprised that she wasn't familiar with any of it, and then she'd say something to once again remind him that of exactly what kind of person she was. And every time, it reminded him of exactly how unnatural she was.

There was a killing machine in the passenger seat of his Crown Vic. Sometimes, it was so easy to forget that about her.

"Is it bothering you?" he asked. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shake her head, and breathed a sigh of relief. "That's good… I don't know if I could have let you stay in my house, knowing you didn't like Black Sabbath."

"Black Sabbath?"

"That's the band – er, the guys who made this particular song. It's pretty old-fashioned by today's standards, but what can I say? I have old-fashioned tastes."

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She blinked. "...You were going to kick me out if I didn't like it?"

"Lighten up, would you?" he asked. "It was a joke. You know, haha, funny, comedy, humor, you laugh? Wait, wait, don't tell me – you're not familiar with jokes, either." She shook her head, and he let out a sharp exhale. "...That ain't right. I don't know how you all made it through deployment without joking around."

"Mostly, we made it through deployment by killing Iprenians," she answered matter-of-factly.

"Of course you all did…"

She hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "...You make it sound as though these jokes were not unusual. Tell me, did you and your men spend a lot of time-"

Eric suddenly pulled into a nearby parking lot, the tires of the car screeching as he did so. He found a space and parked the car as fast as he could, then killed the engine before unbuckling his seatbelt.

"We're here," he said. "Come on, let's hurry this up – the stores will be closing soon."

Thirteen stared at him in surprise, but nodded, then stepped out of the car and followed him as he approached the first store.

***

"People wear things like this casually?"

"I'm tempted to say no, just to fuck with you," he answered. She glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, and he sighed. "Yes, people wear things like that casually. Try not to sound too surprised about it."

Thirteen turned her attention back to the mirror the two of them were standing in front of. Currently, she was dressed in a black skirt and a white blouse, mostly because Eric had figured it'd be funny to see her try them on. And he was right – they both looked extremely out-of-place on her. Something about her demeanor just screamed that traditionally feminine clothing wasn't going to work.

"Maybe it's the eyepatch…" he mused. Again, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, and he waved her off. "Nothing, nothing. Here, I've got some other stuff for you that will fit you better."

He passed her a stack of clothes – jeans and T-shirts, mostly – and then turned away as she retreated into a nearby changing room. She wasn't changing in front of him, of course, but after the incident earlier in the week, he wasn't taking any chances.

After a minute or two, the door to the changing room opened, and Thirteen stepped out. Eric couldn't help but stare at her as she approached him. This was definitely her look – dark blue jeans and a plain black T-shirt, along with a set of black boots and a leather belt to complete the look.

"You're staring," she noted. "Is it bad?"

"No, it's just different," Eric admitted. "You look like you ought to be working at a dive bar somewhere." She tilted her head at that, and he sighed. "…Really, it suits you. The standard girly stuff wouldn't fit you at all, personality-wise. Plus, I figure you're not into showing off a bunch of skin, for reasons of practicality."

She nodded, then looked at herself in the mirror, frowning as she did so. "Do the pants come in something more loose-fitting?"

"Probably. Why do you ask?"

"In case I need to conceal-" She froze, having caught herself, and then let out a sheepish sigh. "...Right. Not a concern anymore."

Eric refrained from commenting. Instead, he reached back into their cart, pulling out another stack of clothes.

"I picked out a few different colors," he informed her. "They're all the same sizes as what you're wearing now, but I figured a little variety couldn't hurt. And before you say anything – no, having variety isn't practical, but if you look like you're wearing the same outfit every day, people are going to think you're weird."

She nodded. Idly, Eric realized he was probably the worst person to talk about this sort of thing with her, but in the absence of anyone else to do it, it unfortunately fell unto him.Just his luck.

Shaking that thought from his mind, Eric motioned for her to look at what was in the cart. "I don't see a reason for you to try on everything here. If you like the way these all look, then we can probably call it a day and move on to something else."

She nodded once more, then began to look through the stack of clothes. Thankfully, she wasn't too picky, and the only articles of clothing she ended up discarding were anything too brightly-colored.He tried not to think too hard about why she seemed to have an aversion to bright colors.

In any case, they were done soon after, and before he knew it, they were both at the register, being rung up by a bored-looking teenage cashier.

"Your total is four-thousand, five-hundred, fifty-seven dollars and sixty-eight cents."

Eric's eyes about bugged out of his skull. "You're serious?"

The teenage boy behind the register stared at him like he'd grown a second head. "...Uh, yeah? This stuff is all designer."

"Designer? It's all one solid color. What's designer about that?"

"...The designer?"

"Smart ass," Eric growled. He turned to Thirteen. "I'm not comfortable with you spending that much on clothing. We'll put all this back, and-"

"Why?" she asked.

"What do you mean, why? That's a lot of money to spend on clothes."

"I can afford it easily. It's no trouble."

Eric stared at her. "You can?" She nodded. "...You're certain?"

"I called Officer Rosa while you were sleeping and asked her how to check how much money I had access to," Thirteen told him.

Despite his initial reservations, Eric's curiosity was now officially piqued. "Okay. And how much money would that be?"

"From what she told me? Just over thirty million."

Both Eric and the cashier choked. Thirteen blinked, confused, as she looked between the two of them.

"...Is that a lot?" she asked.

***

"Fucking Rosa…" Eric muttered as him and Thirteen carried her bags back to the car. "She could've done me a solid and let me know that you were fucking loaded. How do you even have that much money, anyway?"

"I don't know," she replied. "I asked her that and she told me it was the government's way of repaying me for my service."

"Well, at least someone is getting repaid for it…" Eric muttered angrily. He popped the trunk and the two of them dropped their bags in the back. Once that was done, he slammed it shut and turned to her. "Alright, then, Miss Moneybags. Since you've basically got the fucking Midas touch, you can be the one to buy dinner. I know a good bar and grill nearby-"

Before he could explain further, Eric's phone started to buzz in his pocket. He paused, then pulled it out, grimacing when he saw the caller ID.Dad

"Shit…" he muttered as he stared at the screen.