As Sensha walked back into the living area, combing her hair free of the water, the centaur checked to see if the food had been eaten. To her great pleasure, she found the plate behind Mocha on the island properly empty and the victim of her culinary assault, blissfully rubbing her midsection. Her cheeks were rosy and her breathing was deep and heavy, something that Sensha had not been expecting from a simple meal, or… any meal for that matter.

The fact that her cooking could elicit such a reaction was both flattering and a little concerning. Part of her wished she had been able to stay, to watch Mocha's face as she savored the flavors of Sensha's labor. But she was satisfied to see the other woman happy and well fed.

"I see you've finished," she said, smiling at the smaller woman. She had come to the kitchen mostly bare, exposing herself everywhere except for her chest so that she could give Mocha a look at her. Even though she had decided that this was what she wanted, it still made her nervous. As she strode into the kitchen and turned the stove back on, she left her body in the light for Mocha to see. She left her scars in the open.

"Yeah… it was… it was amazing. I haven't had home cooking that good in… well, ever, I don't think," Mocha said, leaning into the counter as she watched Sensha take up the slab of meat still on the counter, tossing it into the pan. "How was the shower?" she asked, changing the topic.

Sen shrugged, wiping the pans and taking her share of the food to the heat. Now that she was cooking for herself, she felt a bit on autopilot. “It was nice. There’s a standard sanitization area up in the master bedroom, but there’s also a tub big enough for me. The Arachne who owned the place must have really invested a lot into it,” Sensha explained, flipping the pans with practiced ease as she spoke.

“How do you know it was an Arachne?” Mocha asked, seemingly surprised. Arachne were rare, powerful creatures with humanoid upper torsos and the lower body of a spider. They were dangerous, venomous, and most times wealthy. Though one of them owning this home made sense, and would explain the daunting size of everything else in the home.

Shaking her head to swing her still damp hair out of the way, Sensha tested her steak with a quick poke before answering. “Found the primary bower strand in the bedroom,” she replied, chuckling, “Arachne women never take them off. It’s almost as sentimental to them as the rest of the house.” The cool air on her midsection and running through her lightly damp fur did wonders for her in the large space, allowing her to feel cool and comfortable without being cold. While she appreciated that warmth, it made the feeling of Mocha’s eyes on her body all the more intense.

“Huh… You sure know quite a bit about them,” Mocha said before pausing. The silence stretched on, Sensha cooking and focussing on her dinner while Mocha remained behind her and out of sight. It wasn’t until the steak was nearly finished that the taller woman spoke.

“Yeah… You get to know a lot about different kinds of people where I used to work. Habits, anatomy, culture. Research is invaluable. Sometimes it can save your life,” Sensha said, looking the food over and nodding as the remaining sprout halves finished up and then plated them. The pans hissed and spat as she cycled her way through the cooking once more, paying little mind to anything until Mocha spoke again.

“You have so many scars…” she commented, making Sensha flinch as her little bird pointed her appearance out. Anxiety like she’d never felt before pitted in her stomach, clawing at her insides. Did she think they were ugly? Did she find Sensha to be hideous? Monstrous?

“Do they make you uncomfortable?” Sen asked, glancing back at her. To her surprise, she found that Mocha was looking down her back, along her scarred body. She didn’t seem revolted, and wasn’t showing fear. Just concern.”I can… I can cover them, if they are… I just. You asked about me… about the past ten years. I’m not big on talking about it… These.. These kind of speak for themselves.”

Mocha paused behind her and she was just about to leave to throw on a shirt when she heard the woman speak. “Can I… Can I touch them?”

Sensha looked back at her, curious. She had not expected that response, though she was certainly pleased to hear it. “Yes. Let me finish this real quick and then you can have a look,” she continued, excitement bubbling in her chest. Mocha was interested. She didn’t hate the scars at the very least. It was a start, a way to talk to her dearest person.

True to her word, she finished very quickly, moving into the living area at the side of the coffee table, where she knelt, letting her barrel rest on the ground as she Set down her food. She looked up to see that Mocha had followed her, still looking at her, at her body. Her gaze was warm, gentle even. Sen remained quiet as Mocha approached, moving around her to kneel next to her humanoid torso.

Sen turned, watching her, shifting her weight to put her hips, and body facing Mocha. She wanted the redhead to see.

Mocha looked up into her pink eyes, tentatively reaching out to touch Sen. Her little, slender fingers found their first target moments later. The contact sent jolts of sensation up Sensha’s body as the redhead stroked lightly over the scarred flesh. Just above her navel. Rather than pulling away, Sensha sighed and relaxed, burning this feeling, this memory into her mind forever.

“Tell me? Please?” came Mocha’s sweet little voice. The playful teasing quality she always seemed to have when she spoke was more subtle now. Like she really was concerned. Looking down into her eyes again, Sen found herself unable to resist her pleading gaze.

“... Okay.” She took a big breath and then sighed, popping a brussel sprout into her mouth before thinking back, going back to the time she’d received that scar. “That one was from a stinger wound. The guy was an enhanced scorpiomorph. He’d been trafficking hallucinogenic venoms into Dunning under the nose of the cats for about 3 years. I spotted him in an alley, trying to offload a few sacks onto some kids. I had to chase him and he fooled me into following him into a tight alley. Got me with his stinger before I popped off his head. Was loopy for a full week before his venom worked out of my system,” she explained, looking down at the mark and at Mocha’s hand.

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That beautiful, porcelain hand moved higher on her, to her side, and once again, Mocha’s eyes turned questioning. The tissue there was long and pale. “Gash from a sword bug out in the wilds. They’re like giant mantises. The discoloration was from the disinfectant they had to use to stop the area from necrotizing.”

And so it went, Sensha slowly eating her food as Mocha felt the stories etched into her body, memories of pain that Sensha could finally share with her long lost friend. Mocha was quiet, and listened, her fingers traveling in soothing whorls over sensha’s skin. At one point, much to Sensha’s joy, Mocha had to mount her, straddling her back to get her fingers on a particularly long brand that had been caused by the burning lash of a Justicar, one of the few remaining religious elite groups in the world. Some things simply refused to die.

Sensha was just finishing her plate when Mocha’s fingers brushed the flare of scar tissue from the night of her chase. The scar was small, the healing done to her body by the machine having minimalized the actual scarring. That didn’t minimize the resurgence of pain for her. The flash of terror of that night and the memory of Phaz’s face, of his limbs strewn across the lab floor, their mixed blood staining her furs… It all came back with a vengeance.

Taking Mocha’s hand in her much larger one, she guided the smaller woman back in front of her, staring into her big, baby blue eyes.

“All of this in just ten years… It must have been hard. So difficult… so lonely,” Mocha said, her eyes wandering Sensha with new understanding. She hadn’t even gone over all of them, but Sensha could tell, her stories had meant something to Mocha.

Keeping that hand in hers, she lifted her own hand, turning it until they were palm to palm. The contrast was obvious, Mocha’s fingers barely long enough to reach sensha’s first knuckles with their size difference. But the differences didn’t end there. Mocha’s palms were soft, smooth and taken care of. While it was obvious that she worked, machining and handling materials, her skin was like a baby’s in comparison to the rough, experienced hands of Sensha. Mocha looked where their hands pressed to one another, her cheeks pinkening cutely.

Rather than drag out the moment or give Mocha a chance to run away, she took Mocha’s hand again and guided it back to the scar, pressing it there, letting her feel it again. “This one… This one’s from just before I came here. I got shot during my last hit in Dunning. This was right after I managed to find you. You’d been so hard to look up. The name changes and everything, not to mention you not having a biometric record in the city… When I found you, I knew I had to quit, to make it here and see you again. I packed my things and did everything I possibly could to plan the trip out here,” she explained. She wanted Mocha to see, to understand.

“That night, the night I got this wound and I lost my legs, I found something Mocha. I found something that transformed me. It gave me power. It rebuilt my legs, healed my wounds. The place I found, the place the PD wants me to tell you about, is just one of many. It didn’t exhaust its power with me either. It only filled me to my limits.” Sensha continued, her hand squeezing Mocha’s lightly.

“There are more of them. A whole network. I was so tired I barely saw it when the signal was sent to Neo Denver, and I’m not sure where around the city it is, but I know it’s close. I need to get you there, Mocha. I need to show you.”

“Why?” Mocha asked, pausing at that. A light frown slipped onto her features, a shadow of doubt crossing her face. “What could I do with something like that? How would it help?”

Sen balked at her for a moment before letting go of her hand, cupping her cheek instead and leaning in toward her. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Mocha. I know. I know why you got into magitech. I know why you have those guns, why you’re developing anti-supe weapons."

Mocha stiffened in her grip, her eyes widening. She looked ready to pull away, to close up. Every part of Sensha's being told her to stop, to shut up. So she instead hugged Mocha close. "It's okay. I get it," she said, rubbing Mocha's back and holding her tightly. "I won't say it. I won't say a thing. Just trust me, Mocha. We want the same thing. I'm here for you. Just like when we were little. You can lean on me. I'll lend you my back."

There was a long, tense moment before Mocha calmed down, gently pushing away from Sensha. She was looking everywhere and anywhere but Sen. Then a yawn caught her. She covered her mouth and made the most adorable little "aahn~" that made Sen burst into giggles.

The tension was shattered, replaced by a lighter embarrassment for Mocha who spent the next few minutes protesting. "There's nothing wrong with being tired. It's been a long day," Mocha insisted to Sen who continued to give her a smug smile.

"Doesn't stop you being adorable," she teased, poking Cha on the nose only for the smaller woman to bat her hand away.

"Enough, you!" She insisted.

"Fine, fine. I get it, little miss sleepy. Where are we hitting the hay?" Sen asked, standing up and turning to take care of the dishes before bed.

"You can take the master bedroom," Mocha said, sighing and standing up, brushing off her pants as she looked around. "I'm gonna shower and change. Then I'll probably couch surf down here for tonight."

"What? Why?" Sen asked, ready to openly protest at that.

"Because this is a protection detail, Sen. Whether you tell me more about that special place or not, I'm still supposed to be keeping you safe. Best that I sleep down here and keep an eye on things to keep you safe," Mocha said, speaking simply.

"Wouldn't it be better for you to protect me from upstairs?” she asked, looking for an excuse. “If something’s going on, you’ll need to get to me, right? It’d be better if we shared the same room.”

“Yeah, not happening, big girl.” Mocha said, standing and shooting down the idea smoothly as she moved to go pull her clothes and towels from her suitcases. “Anyway, I’m going to take a shower. Maybe tomorrow I can get a better feel for the house and pick a room upstairs if it makes you that uncomfortable with me on the couch.”

With that, she was gone, off to the bathroom, leaving no room for argument. Sensha huffed, heading back up the stairs as she heard the shower turn on in the ground floor bathroom. Sighing, stopping herself from using her radar to ‘peek’ yet again for the night, instead heading up the stairs to retrieve some pillows and a throw blanket from one of the rooms, before returning downstairs.

It was going to be a long night.