"Much better," Shard says when she walks out of the bathroom.

Though Octavia won't admit it, she feels more comfortable being out of the tight dress her parents forced her to wear. The red shirt with a faded, grey circular print is a bit baggy, but the black pants ripped at the knees fit. Her socks were once a shade of red. Shard supplied her with combat boots that could be considered fashionable to some and a dark denim jacket she doesn't wear. They don't smell like it, but she knows these clothes have been on someone else's body. Her disgust isn't hidden. She hates these comfortable clothes.

"Now that I can focus on eating," Shard says, "I'll go grab our food."

Shard gets the tray from outside, places it on the table, and removes its cover in front of Octavia from where she sits on her bed with her back pressed against the wall. Under the metal cloche are two glasses of water and two sandwiches.

"A perfect lunch for two!" Shard says. Amused by Octavia's confused face, he continues. "Peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches. One for me. One for you. Never had one before?"

Octavia untrustingly looks at the sandwiches and water.

"They ain't poisoned," he says. "Take whichever water and sandwich ya want, and I'll take the ones you don't."

Slowly scooting from her spot on the bed and keeping as much distance between her and Shard as possible, Octavia reaches for a sandwich. Shard nearly closes the cloche on her fingers. She draws her hand to her chest.

"Nuh-uh," Shard says. "Ya ain't gonna be eating like that. Sit in the chair like a civilized person with some respect and manners. I know your parents have taught you at least that much."

Octavia slinks back to the wall.

Sitting in a chair, Shard hugs the covered food close to himself with an arm and pats the table in front of the empty chair. "C'mon. I don't bite. Kinda hard for me to with this on." He scratches the fabric on his face.

Octavia doesn't move.

"Hurry up, lunch buddy. I'm hungry." He whines his last few words and kicks his feet like a child.

Octavia refuses to move.

Shard stops kicking his feet. His shoulders slump. "Am I going to have to put you in and tie you to this chair and shove a sandwich down your throat? Ya know I'll do it. I just figure it's less traumatizing if you sit in the chair and eat of your own will."

"And you taking me here against my will is any less traumatizing?" The words slip out of Octavia's mouth. Wishing she could suck them back in, she bites her lip.

Admonishments from her parents knock in her head.

Think before you speak!

What you say will follow you forever.

That quick lip will get your tongue cut out.

The last she fears Shard is about to do.

"Hmm," Shard hums. He waves a pointed finger at her. "Ya make a rather convincing argument, Sweetheart. But we can make this whole experience a little less traumatizing if you cooperate."

Octavia shifts in her spot. She fights her desire not to comply with him because of who he is but squirms off the bunk in fear of what he can and will do to her. Sitting in the chair, she's close to Shard. If she stretched out her arm, her hand would touch his face. Her crawling skin stiffens her.

Shard removes the cloche. "There we go. Much more suitable for lunch conversations. Now go ahead. Take one."

With tortoise-like speed, she reaches for a sandwich, again. Her hand hovers above one when she notices the cloche coming back down. She snatches her hand away.

The cloche doesn't close. A space big enough for her hand stays open.

"Gotcha." Shard giggles. "Okay. No more tricks." He tosses the cloche behind him creating a loud, echoing crash.

The guards jump and ready their weapons.

Shard snickers. "Oops. It's all good," he says with a short wave.

The guards relax.

"But, Sweetheart, please do be faster in your food taking," Shard tells her. "I would like to eat before the sun goes down."

Octavia grabs a sandwich and holds it to her face.

Shard rubs his hands together. "Goody! My turn!" He rips the sandwich piece by piece off the plate and shoves it under his mask to eat.

When Shard is halfway through his sandwich, he says, "Are ya gonna just hold it or eat it? I'll eat it if ya don't." He cocks his head to the side. "Is our simple, rebel food not suitable for her majesty's pallet?"

Octavia glares at him before slowly biting into the sandwich. Other than the bread being a touch stale, the simple sandwich is sweet, salty, and crunchy; though, she can taste the cheapness of the ingredients. It doesn’t matter as it masks the chemical taste. Every bite she takes is faster until she finishes her sandwich before Shard. The peanut butter sticking in her dry mouth has her reach for a glass without hesitation. The lukewarm water washes away the stickiness, sandpaper film, and remaining chemicals.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Putting the empty glass down, she sees Shard eating and watching her with wide, wonder-filled eyes sparkling with laughter.

Octavia sits herself straight and folds her hands in her lap.

Shard lets out a disappointed sigh. "Guess the entertainment can only last so long." He shoves the rest of his sandwich in his mouth and reaches into his jacket.

Octavia tenses up. All of Shard's weapons are concealed in his jacket. She's seen video after video and clip after clip of him drawing guns lighting fast out of his jacket and raining bullets through people. He pulls a colorful bendy straw out. Octavia blinks at the sight of it.

Shard puts the straw in his water glass and drinks his water without removing his mask. When he finishes his water, he breaks the silence with chuckles to himself and says, "I got onto you for your clothes, but Winters's dress, if ya could even call it that, was insane. What's up with kids' fashion nowadays?"

Octavia perks up at Mindy's name. Her chest itches at the desire to know more.

"Where is she? And all the others?" Octavia asks.

"All cozy in their own cells. Away from this one. All still alive for now." Shard leans back in the chair. "What's it to ya?"

"What are you doing to them?" Octavia asks.

"The same I'm doing to you. Giving them lunch right about now. They just don't get the privilege of having me as their lunch buddy." Shard's eyes crinkle.

"What are you going to do to them?" Octavia asks.

"Don't play dumb. You know," he tells her.

"Maybe I don't. There's never telling with any of you Chromies, especially with comments like ‘alive for now’. What are you going to do with them?"

"I want my payments, Sweetheart. Do you think I'm gonna or wanna hurt them? All I'm gonna do to them is feed them, clothe them, shelter them, and have them under harsh surveillance, demanding order and cooperation under threat, or more of promise, of punishment." Shards eyes crinkle more from a growing smile.

"What kind of punishment?" Octavia lingers on her words as she's unsure if she wants to finish the question.

"The kind that could get hurt-y. Badly hurt-y. Do you really wanna find out?" Shard leans forward. “I’m more than willing to give ya a free demonstration if ya really want one.”

Octavia presses her back against the chair to suppress a shiver. "You're sick."

"And don't you forget it." Shard emphasizes with a wagging finger.

Silence and Shard's gaze on her grate Octavia’s nerves. Curiosity and wanting to change the subject from offers of torture push her to speak up. "What kind of payments are you looking for?"

"Oh. Normal stuff. Weapons, prisoner swaps, propaganda air-time, materials, etcetera, etcetera. Just no money. Too traceable." Shard dances in his chair. "With this raid, I'm sure we'll get some real goods. Oooh. And Winters will get us some real good goods with the way everyone fawns over her. But the others..." Shard bobs his head from side to side. "They still need to be evaluated for their worth."

"Including me?" Octavia asks.

"Oh, no. I already know what I want for you. I already have a pretty good idea of your worth to your parents and everyone else."

"What are you demanding for me?"

Shard snickers. "Wouldn't you like to know. Wanna guess?" he says.

Octavia opens her mouth to guess but says, "I will not play your games. Tell me."

A shock runs through her chest at her bold words. She never thought she would be so consistently bold when staring at her death straight in the eyes or, more accurately, glancing at death straight in the eyes since she doesn’t want to challenge or push her luck further.

"Telling you? That’s so boring." Shard rolls his head back and looks at the ceiling. "Since you're boring me now, I have stuff I gotta do that will be more interesting: Hostage negotiations!" Shard springs out of his chair. "So, I'll have to leave ya for the evening, Sweetheart." He curtsies, pinching the corners of his jacket as a substitute skirt. Rising, he says, "I must bid you adieu. Find a way to keep entertained that doesn't involve harassing the guards or escaping. Adios!"

The guards open the door when Shard swings his hand. He waves goodbye and throws kisses towards Octavia's disdainful face as he walks off. The guards lock the door behind him.

When he's gone, Octavia lies back on her bunk, puts her hands over her face, and sighs. She welcomes the silence without Shard to ease her nerves, but it's interrupted with a bang against the cell's bars. Octavia jumps and turns her attention to the guards. Their eyes burn into her.

The woman guard, who had smacked her rifle against the bars and doesn't lose eye contact with Octavia, unlocks the door. She enters the cell and goes straight for her. Octavia scrambles off the bunk.

Rushing towards the bathroom to barricade herself in it, Octavia’s ankle is prevented from taking one of the last two crucial steps to make it in. The woman stomps on her chain. Octavia’s body smacks the ground. She yanks at the chain but doesn't have the strength to pull free from the woman.

The woman pulls Octavia over to her using the chain and grabs Octavia's shirt. She brings Octavia close to her face. This close to the woman's face, Octavia sees an odd milky color distorting some of the copper color in her right eye. Jagged scars stretch across her face over the eye.

The woman's growly voice is low. Her breath is hot.

"I don't know what Shard has planned for you. If it were up to me, I'd put a bullet straight through your forehead and begin killing off the filth of you Rhineharts and put an end to this 'elected empire'. But I owe Shard every shred of my trust and loyalty. I wouldn't be here, nor would my kid, if it wasn't for him. So, if you just as much sneeze too close to him, ya better believe I won't leave you with a face. Do I make myself clear, Rhinehart?"

‘Rhinehart’ sounds like a curse word when she says it.

Octavia's voice catches in her throat, sealed shut by her pounding heart.

"I think she gets it," the male guard says from outside the cell. "Get back over here before Shard comes. Ya know he finds the perfect times to show up."

The woman throws Octavia out of her hold, locks the door behind herself, and swings her rifle back in front of her. When the woman resumes her position, the man talks to Octavia.

"Don't think I'm not on the same page as her."

Octavia finally speaks up. Her voice is breathy. She grabs at her chest. "Didn't Shard order you not to talk to me?"

The man scoffs. "Ya do take after your father – a coward, an imbecile," he says. "Ya do realize we control this door, don't ya? Or did ya forget already?" He narrows his eyes. "And I'm sure Shard would be pretty forgiving of us disobeying that order since it doesn't leave any marks."

“And if it did this time,” the woman guard says, “it’ll just blend in with the ones ya already have from last night. Think about that for the future, too.”

Octavia shakily returns to her bunk. She doesn't understand how these people can have such loyalty for such a lunatic. But she doesn't say anything. Neither guard speaks to her again, nor does she to them. She just daydreams of escape until she falls asleep.