It was eighteen years ago. Bailey was sure of that. The very minute her fateful encounter with Nataliza began was branded into her mind against her will. That used to be a bad thing. Something she hated.

Things change, Bailey supposed.

Regardless, eighteen years ago, a young, more reckless version of herself walked through the then bustling streets of Chalybe City. Her stomping grounds before, and her stomping grounds for many a year after; only leaving its frequent, neon clad embrace when Corvis Base called.

Bailey’s looks were, of course, timeless. She’d spent years ensuring her looks remained as youthful as they could, and Bailey knew she’d succeeded too. Sure, the version of her calmly strolling through Chalybe at twenty years old had fewer wrinkles to hide. Fewer scars to cover, too.

But, much like her appearance in the present day, Bailey Cluanaire was flawless.

Same face.

Same hair.

Same perfect figure.

All she lacked were her pricey cybernetic arms, and the expensive accessories that became so important to her after Nataliza left.

…

Focus returned to Bailey’s recollection a moment later, getting herself out of that funk by reminding herself of that pretty little outfit she used to wear.

Mh, that was good alright. Simple, too. A black tactical vest that was better described as a tactical sports bra, paired with a small utility belt and some matching black combat pants.

It was cute, but also more than a little stupid. As much as Bailey enjoyed a good flex, that outfit had to be swapped over to more traditional combat attire after her first encounter with some dumb UA grunt’s pocket knife.

Still, at the time, the outfit gave her some early and necessary personality. Her name wasn’t as synonymous with mercenary work as it would later become, but she was no nobody either. Plus, with the recently pocketed spoils of a defense contract done for some cute rebel cell in Salamat, Bailey flashed that outfit with pride on her search for a decent dive bar.

She’d earned a drink after downing half a dozen UA infantry mechs with a basic, barely modified Whitehawk. Even those without her slightly dwindling love for excess would have had to agree with that. It was tough work, but truthfully, Bailey always preferred it to the drabber, less personal corporate gigs.

Not that she’d tell a fucking soul that. Ever.

…

Bailey’s focus returned again, recalling the exact, winding alley of Chalybe City she was about to walk past all those years ago.

Before the most influential voice in her life made its grand debut to her.

“That long, eh? Whatever you’re going to do… try it, pigs.”

The voice was loud, but not in the typical panicked, screaming way Bailey usually heard when some United Arcadium scumbags caught onto what Bailey could already assume was a targeted rebel. The voice, spoken in the tone of a woman who sounded a tad older than Bailey, was calm in its delivery despite its volume.

“Honestly, I figured you commies would’ve had the sense not to walk in our city like you owned the place. Should teach her some sense, shouldn’t we, Hazel?”

The second voice to hit Bailey’s ears was loud for all the wrong reasons. An overconfident, deep voiced worm of a man screaming away like the whole world was his own personal urinal.

Overconfidence looked good on some, Bailey wore it like a two-piece bikini set if you asked her, but she didn’t even need to see this mutt to know he wore it like a decomposing corpse.

Mh, hopefully he was one nowadays.

“Hey come on now. It’s your fault thinking these animals could read anything that didn’t tell them they should get everything for free.”

The third and final nasally, feminine voice was the one that made Bailey stop by the alley’s entrance and take a peek at this petty conflict.

Two fascists cornering a woman? They were sloppy to say the very least. Bailey had had her day with more than a few rebels at this point, and her currently absent mentor had engaged in a myriad more of them. A few drinks might have gotten in this girl’s pants alone, honestly. She seemed the type.

Alas, much like the United Arcadium’s ugly penetration of Ansa’s land to suck up oil, these two wanted their assault to be quick, disgusting, and without even the veneer of consent.

At least Bailey had the veneer back in her old days, hm?

…

Bailey’s focus was fought for again, and the fight was fortunately short.

She recalled watching the pair successfully back their victim, a brown haired woman standing at what Bailey could already guess was about 5’10”, into a corner of this convenient little dead end.

Too convenient, Bailey thought. Either this pretty brunette had never been in this city before and trapped herself from sheer stupidity… or there was an angle.

“You know you’re going to need to do more than oink like two greasy pigs to scare me, right? Unlike the oil fields, this really won’t be worth it for you.” The soon-to-be victim’s voice didn’t waver in the slightest, staring down her imperial predators even as Bailey witnessed their hands preparing to pin the woman to the wall. “Go on. Run home to your fascist trough, piggies. Last chance.” Mh, Bailey liked this one.

Unfortunately, this woman’s cute, potentially empty insults and cuter dry confidence were going to traumatize her for life if she didn’t have a game plan.

Of course, Bailey knew a woman smiling so slyly through this had one. It was obvious. So why did Bailey begin calmly marching into that alleyway, then?

At the time, Bailey didn’t have the slightest idea why her instincts kicked in so sharply. Nowadays, it was obvious.

She liked this woman.

She didn’t want to leave thinking something vile had happened to her.

Plus, Bailey always liked putting some pathetic upstarts in their place~.

Before the pair could even realize they had an intruding third party, Bailey’s hand reached down to the cheap but clean small caliber revolver lying in her right pistol holster. With impressive draw speed Bailey knew had only improved since that day, the revolver was pulled from it, pointed into the air, and given a firm squeeze of the trigger.

BANG!!

The shot went off loudly enough for a few blocks nearby to carry its echoing sound.

Unsurprisingly to Bailey, of course, the pair’s reaction time was poor. Even their brunette stalking victim at least winced at the sudden, unexpected gunshot like there was some life in her.

“Well isn’t this cute~?” Bailey’s less aged voice spoke their first words of this fateful night, piercing the calmed air with it playful, sultry tone while the freelance mercenary put her gun away. She did keep her hand near that holster, though. She may have had an impromptu plan brewing, but these two would have been lying on the ground in seconds if they’d tried anything.

Fortunately, they didn’t. They both turned around, sure. Their hands rested by their holstered pistols, clumsily unbuttoning the fastener in case they needed to fire.

That, however, was the extent of their preparation. They’d both lacked the self-preservation instincts and common sense to simply gun Bailey down where she stood for such a brazen, stupid act.

It was unsurprising then, and still unsurprising now. Chalybe was always where they sent poorly trained troops to learn on the job of citizen abuse or die trying. Only recently had the UA taken a much more vested interest in truly locking the place down.

Back then, though, these two were as good as it got. Pathetic.

“Hey! Can’t you see we’re apprehending a known rebel? Discharging a weapon without a license is a criminal offense… citizen.” A certain level of disgust was perceptible in the male grunt’s ratty voice. With the squinty, uncomfortable look in his eyes following those words, Bailey had a pretty clear idea why.

Bailey could have just shot these two before they had a chance to blink, but this endeavor would have been pointless if she hit the watching, neutral faced victim with a stray.

No. Bailey had a better idea.

“Why don’t you go for it? Might give me a chance to explain to your superior that you’re screwing up a Mercenary Guild hit.” Bailey lied through her teeth with the same casualness others would use to breathe. A skill passed onto her by her mentor, and refined by Bailey’s natural, constantly evolving charms.

Who said she had to be humble about telling her own story, hm?

“Don’t bullshit us. If there was a Guild contract out for Rayfield here we’d be the first ones to know about it.” The girl of the pair took over for her ratty coworker, taking a step forward and giving her victim, Ms. Rayfield, a little breathing room.

Bailey saw that Rayfield girl building an idea in her head. She just had that look of a schemer at the time.

“Mh, please, cutie. Rayfield’s out of your pay grade. She’s just barely in mine~.” Bailey played along, speaking empty lies that turned out to be so much truer than she could have ever realized at the time.

Not that first part, though. Bailey almost gagged calling either of these greasy little piggies cute, but being a good actress was part of her job even before the Guild.

“Well, look. We got her first. What difference is it to you if we take a moment with her before you put a bullet in her stupid brain?” The male troop’s insult game was about as layered as that of a six-year-old, and that too hadn’t changed much since this fateful night.

The Rayfield girl even made a visible, but silent little snort. 

Bailey liked her already. She liked that Rayfield here was starting to drift her hands down to the two impotent, greasy troops’ holsters.

To try and expedite whatever Rayfield was doing, Bailey moved her hand away from her pistol in an attempt to get these two comfortable.

“Mh, it makes plenty of difference, actually. The Guild wants visual confirmation of her death, and I left my datapad in my mech. I don’t feel like carrying around the corpse of some recently fucked rebel, cutie~.” Bailey vividly remembered and re-experienced the urge to vomit as she flirted up the disgusting, unkempt man in front of her. She could have sworn Rayfield saw the disgust, too. Smiled about it even. “And if you’re that desperate to get whatever’s in those pants wet… I’m sure we could compromise together~?” Bailey would have rather performed a ritual murder suicide than see either of these two spindly grease bags shed a single article of their Hitlerian uniforms.

Handily, she knew she wouldn’t have to either.

The two grunts paused for a second, taking another step forward and taking their hands off their guns with some degree of trust earned, giving Rayfield her opening.

They were so fucking stupid.

“What. With one of you? Feel like we’re getting a sh—”

“Ike, shut up?” The extremely loaded words of the male grunt were promptly and loudly interrupted by his female assault partner. “I’ve heard the blacks are the best in the galaxy at this. They’re like animals. Let her shoot this commie behind us and let’s go.” Mh, and somehow his partner came out with something even more stomach churning.

Bailey never forgot that rancid smile. A smile she should have wiped from the galaxy then and there.

Gods, it would have been so easy to just blow her fucking head off.

At least that wasn’t necessary, though.

“About that…” Rayfield spoke her first words since Bailey’s arrival, and immediately followed that up by smoothly grabbing both of the grunts’ guns from their exposed, unclipped holsters.

“Hey, yo— Ungh!”

The girl of the two tried to speak, but was given a hefty smack with the butt of her own gun. Rayfield followed it up by smacking her greasy little boyfriend and pushing them forward.

“I’m giving you three seconds to start running away. Do anything else, and we’ll both take our chances killing you right here.” Rayfield’s voice was still, impressively, as calm as Bailey had ever heard a woman speak. There was venom in there, the kind Bailey knew came from deep, experienced hatred of the United Arcadium machine. “Three…” There was, however, also that slightest hint of amusement in her voice that sold Bailey on her right away.

The pair of grunts, feeling the rush of a fight or flight for what Bailey assumed was the first and hoped was the last time in their sad lives.

“Commander Raine is going to hear about this. Y-You two are fucking dead!” The male grunt yelled back at the pair as he and his girlfriend sprinted off into the distance, never to be head from by Bailey Cluanaire again.

Hopefully he, his girlfriend, and this “Commander Raine” just shot themselves after this mess~.

“Nice moves. I can’t lie, though, didn’t have a single clue if you had an actual plan, but I had fun watching whatever that was.” Rayfield’s voice remained calm as she finally addressed the gorgeous, eye pleasing rescuer in the alley.

Bailey watched the woman flick the safeties on of her two, newly acquired imperial handguns and pocket both of them in her black cargo pants.

Mh, never had Bailey seen a girl’s thighs struggle to be contained in pants so spacious. That alone may as well have been her love at first sight moment.

“Disarming yourself so quickly, Rayfield. How’d you know I’m not really a Mercenary Guild assassin, hm? Might have just wanted you for myself~.” Bailey changed a lot over the last eighteen years, in good ways and more dubious, but the teasing attitude of hers never left her. Nor did that catlike, smug grin.

If anything, both only grew stronger over the years~.

“Ha, please. Even if I was a big enough target for that, you’re nothing like those Guild freaks.” Rayfield chuckled a little, but her words returned to that alluring, almost playful calmness not long after. That calmness remained when she continued speaking. “Your draw speed was a tenth of a second. The Guild and the UA’s basic weapons training focuses on slow stability. You’re too good to be with one of those. Probably.”

Ah, that probably may very well have been the single word that stuck with Bailey the most over the years.

…

Focus on the story, Cluanaire. Humor them.

…

Focus managed to return again. Bailey remembered getting a nice laugh out of this girl right away, watching Rayfield approach her in what she hoped wasn’t about to be the rebel’s own assassination attempt.

“Aren’t you clever, Rayfield?” Bailey cattily and rhetorically asked her new brunette friend before continuing on. “You got me. I’m just a freelance contractor. You just got lucky I happened to walk by~.” Yet more teasing came from Bailey’s sly, grinning lips.

Fascinatingly, Rayfield here fired back with her own, more casual smile when the pair were closer.

“I mean, won’t say you didn’t help out, but…” Rayfield paused, reaching behind her back and pulling out two simple, well-maintained combat knives from underneath her green jacket. “I don’t get cornered by accident.” Ah, that sly smile on her face was infectious then, and it was infectious to reflect on.

Unfortunately, it was also a statement that had managed to age poorly this past week and change. But Bailey couldn’t think about that.

She couldn’t.

“Put a woman down why don’t you, hm? Saying I should have left you with them~?” Bailey remembered her own smile being just as sly. Their first encounter was so playful, after all.

Ah, where did the years go?

…

Like Bailey could ever fucking forget.

“No, this worked out better, honestly. Didn’t really want to spend part of my week off trying to dump two bodies.” Rayfield threw Bailey a bone, and unlike with anyone else, she was happy to simply chew on it quietly for a moment.

Then the teasing came.

“Still, that’s a risky little game for a rebel like you to play. Even made that stereotype of a jacket good for something, too. I’m impressed~.” Bailey wasn’t always a woman steeped in riches and personal items, but growing up without the ability to try on as much as a dress back on Earth had made her a slightly fashion obsessed girl.

This Rayfield woman was on her likely single week off a year, and she was dressed in a green rebel jacket that, while clearly looked after, was a dime a dozen within Ansa’s cute little bands of ideologue Communists.

The white shirt without a bra was certainly a choice, and Bailey still fondly remembered that old pair of glistening combat boots she wore before Rayfield’s overengineered armor suit came along, requiring a change.

Rayfield clearly took fine care of them, too. Or made someone else do it, at least.

Ah, always a woman of her own heart…

…

All that aside, though, this woman needed a friend with some damn fashion sense.

“Hey, I like this jacket. Besides, it’s got to get the job done better than that… uniform you’re wearing?” Rayfield, much to Bailey’s amusement, swatted back with her own fashion retort. It was valid, Bailey knew that now, but she also knew Rayfield’s calmly wandering eyes didn’t mind the view. “I’m not saying it looks bad on you, either. It’s just a bit exposed for a combat outfit, eh?” Again, a very valid point that Bailey could reflect on better nowadays.

She loved an ogler with some honesty, though. Mh~.

“Please, Rayfield. Like anyone could get close enough for it to matter, right?” Bailey smirked, never once missing a chance to boast about her talents, even if she knew now this was defending a rather piss poor outfit choice. “Don’t see those eyes complaining though, eh, Ray~?” Bailey remembered testing out her teasing nicknames on this woman almost immediately.

Such a cute eye roll on this one. Even cuter that calling her out didn’t immediately get Bailey a blush, too.

She knew she’d have to work harder on her~.

“Right.” Rayfield smiled right at Bailey, chuckling a little but not necessarily denying her interest, leaving Bailey to forever guess if it was truly lust at first sight for her. “Well, before those two run me out of town for the night, I was hoping to get myself a drink. If you’re up for it, yours could be on me, too.” Rayfield’s invitation to get drinks was coy, and Bailey would grow to love that about the woman.

Such a smooth, professional way of getting in your heart, that one.

“Mh, not the only thing on you, I hope~.” Bailey’s catlike smirk took aim right at Rayfield, and earned itself another cute little eye roll… and the slightest smile too. “Well, I’d be a dumbass not to take free drinks from a cute girl. Wouldn’t I?” Bailey, of course, didn’t need to think about taking this woman up on her offer. She’d take a drink off anyone, honestly. If they tried something…

…mh, their mistake~.

“Great!” Rayfield sounded almost too eager to hear Bailey’s acceptance of her invitation. The cheer in her voice betrayed her otherwise calm smile and unbothered walk past Bailey towards the alleyway’s exit. “I know a nice place. Friend of mine runs it.” Rayfield’s tone returned to that appealing, calm cadence, her hand beckoning for Bailey to follow behind.

“Lead the way, Ray.” Bailey joined her in that calm cadence, following the woman out of the alleyway and back to those calming neon streets of Chalybe City.

Was it gaudy? Without a doubt. But for Bailey, this place had been home almost as long as Ireland had been, and unlike Ireland, this wasn’t totally conquered by its regime yet. Even Rayfield could appreciate that, in between the odd passing, judgmental glance at a UA recruitment poster, or comment about the city’s disgusting level of product advertising.

Truthfully.

Bailey kind of liked that about her.

…

Maybe she appreciated it even more now.

…

Bailey debated internally with herself about recalling the rest of her fateful first encounter with Nataliza Rayfield. An exchange of names. A drink.

The first time Bailey had a home since that vicious, fiery night on Earth. Until she’d fuck that up too.

The second-worst night of her life.

…

No. Bailey decided not to reopen those wounds tonight.

That was all this lot was getting.

This time.


*****


“Huh, I didn’t think the old gal on that poster in my bunk was that cool!” Bailey’s return from reliving memories of the past and back to the real, present world was met by the bubbly, attentive voice of Scotch. It was tough to fully gauge that plump little butterscotch slice’s expression right away. Cheerful?

Horny?

Relieved?

Bailey didn’t really know. She didn’t really care either. If stories about her partner got herself seven inches into Scotch’s juicy ass, then good for both of them. This one wasn’t for her, though, even if that smirk of hers was infectious, and the blush on Anise’s face was adorably pathetic.

Maybe that pretty little mechanic was finger fucking herself to Bailey these past few months. The perks of those silly propaganda posters~.

“Right? Disarmed two creeps, and she carried two knives back then, too. Obviously Lizzy’s a hot slut deep down, but she was always that hot?” Far more infectious was the singsong, happy little voice of Aoi Tarowaka, one of the two girls this tale was really for.

…

Bailey supposed she could give one of her two kittens a treat, hm?

“She was a brunette back then, too. If that helps your fantasies tonight, kitty cat~.” Bailey’s gentle, dulcet tone throughout her long-winded recount of the fated duo’s first meet was briskly replaced with her signature smug, lustful aura. “If she asks, tell her I told.” She added onto her teasing, smirking away even as a thought crossed the back of her mind.

It was nice to talk about Nataliza like she was coming home soon.

Because she fucking was.

“I’m doing things with that tonight~.” Aoi replied quickly, letting just a trickle of Bailey’s own saccharine sensuality infect her voice, as well as her smile.

Mh, felt a little good to have a partner in crime~.

“Well I figured you two would get there eventually. Ya perverts.” Sierra interjected not a moment later, but unlike the slightly sour face Minerva was rocking beside her, the engineer wore only a please, slightly cocky smile. “I’m surprised, though. For half a story about you two hookin’ up, that was tame. Kinda cute, actually!” Sierra rode a thin, smirky line between teasing Bailey and earnestly, genuinely feeling impressed by Bailey’s restraint and ability to be selflessly romantic.

Couldn’t let that one slide, could she now?

“Yeah, i-it was really cute, actually. A little like how me and Mari met…” Sarah’s soft, precious little purrs and arm hugging could get a pass, though. Bailey allowed all of that.

Kittens deserved their treats.

“Mh, what’s the matter, Sierra? Did you think I’d drug her until she and her perfectly tight cunt fell in love with me by force? I’m more than happy to tell you about the time we spent in her old bunk that night, if you’re brave enough~?” Bailey’s smug, feline-like expression was grinning at Sierra with full, teasing force. Her words were like a rich, cream liqueur smoothly trailing from her beautiful lips.

“I’m all ears, Bailey. Ain’t gotta ask me twice~!” Sierra played along, and for the briefest of moments, it made Bailey forget about the whole fucking up and getting Nataliza kidnapped deal for a scant few seconds.

For those few seconds, Bailey just saw a woman she’d have bent over this table and plowed into next week at the words ‘break me.’ 

Though who was saying those words was simply fate’s to guess.

…

Unfortunately, such delicious bouts of ignorance weren’t made to last.


“Alright, alright. I’ve had enough for a month out of you three.” Minerva broke through the immediately horny responses of the Corvis Base trio, proving that Ansa’s number one underground bird nest definitely had a slightly higher libido than a Nightjar regular. That slight smile couldn’t get past Bailey, though. “You three can have your fun on your own time. I’d like to get some rest thinking about your nice story, instead of some weird sex between you and your boss.” That was a bold assumption out of Minerva. Bailey wouldn’t stick a finger inside of Sierra right now.

After all this, though… Mh, that was trickier. Depended on how long after tomorrow’s Dr. Lavern mess they’d spend rescuing the important one.

Good behavior deserved a good reward.

If she did her fucking job.

“Sorry, Minnie. Got a little carried away.” Sierra apologized politely to the Nightjar’s second in command like a coward before turning back to Bailey. “Thanks, though. I get why ya like her so much now, beyond the nice ass, and the teasin’ and all that crap. Think I finally get why she never got over ya, either. Sure sound like you were her type from the start.” Sierra’s voice remained polite. Understanding.

If it didn’t make Bailey want to puke a little, she would have found it nice. It would have reassured Bailey that this rescue mission tomorrow was worth it to get the only woman with a true, mutual, and nigh unconditional love for her back from the clutches of… Her…

…

Maybe Bailey did. Maybe she just couldn’t accept that yet.

“It was nice, actually. I’ve been seeing you on posters for months now. Saw Liz on them for nearly half my life. Think it’s probably good to remind myself you two are just people before tomorrow’s mission.” Minerva’s face shook off its slight tinge of disgust, but Bailey picked up on some new, different conflicted emotion hiding in her smile. “Also think it’s time I got some sleep. Don’t be too far behind me, alright? Need all the energy we can get to pull this off tomorrow.” Minerva rallied the troops as best she could before standing up and beginning to slink away.

Bailey wasn’t a forgetful woman, though, Minnie.

“I guess I’ll get that info about your boss from you tomorrow, hm? You owe me after all, Minnie~.” Bailey, despite her cocky little smile, was feeling merciful tonight, though. Whatever was going through that woman’s head today would only make the story less fun to slowly pick her way through.

Hell, even Bailey had lived in the past enough for today…

“Bring Lavern back in one piece tomorrow, and I’ll owe you any story you want. Promise.” Minerva spoke plainly towards Bailey, not even ceasing her walk away from the table while she flapped her lips. Someone was feeling a bit forlorn. That was nice and clear.

Bailey, feeling more merciful, simply let the woman walk off to whatever her luxurious leadership bunk looked like.

That story would clearly be well worth the extra wait~.

“Mh, not the only thing that fucker’s going to owe me after tomorrow.” Bailey spoke under her breath, but made no effort to be quiet enough not to be audible to the table’s remaining occupants.

Said muttering earned Bailey a light squeeze to her arm from Sarah, which she accepted, and a sympathetic look from Sierra, which she tried not to.

“Promise you. We’re gettin’ Liz back the second we’re done with this thing tomorrow. Got my word, girl.” Sierra’s words were gentle, serious, and filled with a clear empathy for feelings Bailey had trained herself not to feel.

Bailey pretended even harder not to appreciate encouragement from the woman who got her in this mess, no matter how fun and extremely hot she was.

“We’ll get her ourselves if we have to! Just the three of us!” Aoi chimed in with what was less identifiable as sympathy and more as excitement. Took a lot to dash that kitty cat’s optimism, though.

Bailey saw where this was going, though. Sarah was already moving up to speak. Scotch and Anise both looked eager to join in on this party, too.

After pouring her heart out about a chunk of that fateful day to this gaggle of optimistic troops, Bailey wasn’t in the mood for a pep talk. She was in the mood for some rest and to get tomorrow’s inevitable mess over with.

“Oh we will, DeSoto.” Bailey interrupted any incoming attempts to pitch in help for a hypothetical she wasn’t even going to entertain allowing to happen, letting the cloying, teasing playfulness leave her voice and replacing it with an uncharacteristic serious aggression. “After tomorrow, you owe me too, after all. No matter what.” Bailey continued, standing up from her seat and gently pulling Sarah up with her, still allowing her blond kitten to squeeze at Bailey’s arm.

It was comforting.

“No matter what. Don’t gotta tell me that.” Sierra replied calmly, looked Bailey right in the eyes, and nodded.

Aoi, too, joined the nod, but seemed to get the hint about not adding in any more pep talks after a slight glare from Bailey.

Who said you couldn’t teach a kitty cat some boundaries, hm?

Bailey turned her gaze down to Sarah, smiling at her while already beginning to lead her away from the now foodless dinner table.

“We have a little time before your silly meeting with Kern. How about I tell you the rest of that story while you clean my gloves for tomorrow, hm?” Bailey muttered softly, but this time made an effort to keep it inaudible to the remaining table gaggle. Either that volume adjustment worked, or the crew was happy to let her think it had.

Bailey was happy either way.

“Sure, m— Bailey!” Sarah corrected herself from her habits in record time, even managing to keep quiet enough for her approval not to reach the growingly distant crew.

“Hey, Bailey.” Sierra butted in to their moment a few seconds later, though, causing Bailey to stop and peer behind her with a neutral expression. “Good luck out there tomorrow. Make it out of there in one piece for me, eh?” She spoke calmly; casually even. Yet Bailey knew Sierra meant it with all her heart, even at the time.

“You too, DeSoto. For me and that cute little snack back home, hm~?” Bailey, for her part, meant every single word of her reply with all of hers, too, before properly strolling off and leaving Sierra and Aoi to their own night.

As much as Bailey played herself up, a thought lingered in her mind as she strolled back to her and Sarah’s bunk for rest and, most likely, just a quick blow job before Sarah vanished into Kern’s sick embrace tonight.

…

This was nice. Nice enough that Bailey may very well do it more when they were all back at Corvis Base.

This was pleasant enough that, despite her remaining anger at Sierra DeSoto, Bailey couldn’t deny that she liked her at least a quarter as much as Aoi. Maybe a third, if she was feeling generous.

Bailey would get her home tomorrow. That was her mission, but it was now also an active, unwanted desire.

First Sierra and that Lavern girl.

…

Then, even if it required hellfire…

Nataliza was coming home.