Well what's it been? Months and months?

Once again you have the wonderful Pink Pritstick to thank for her bothering me into finishing the next chapter. This just dropped off my radar. Sorry folks!

Then again if you're new to this story (it's been long enough), enjoy!

True he'd worked as a waiter before in the past – he'd worked as everything – but walking around the Human ranch with a tray of food from the officer's mess in his arms felt peculiarly nostalgic to this briefly-held occupation. All he was missing was a suit shirt and an apron.

He approached the room of his destination, now with a small plaque fixed to the door reading 'Quarantine zone. DO NOT VIOLATE ON PAIN OF DEATH', and he still couldn't help the tiniest of smiles crossing his face.

He knocked once, and walked in.

“Good morning,” he said coolly, and noticed that although Anna was still on the bunk that was now her bed, she appeared to be awake.

“Mornin' sunshine,” she replied with a distant smile, and Kratos couldn't hide the fact that he was just a little disturbed by the act of being called 'sunshine'.

“I... I brought you some food,” he said awkwardly; it occurred to him that he hadn't been feeding his pet since she'd been transferred. The day before he'd asked if there was anything she wanted, and she'd replied 'grub', and he was hit with a terrible sense of negligence – how could he forget that she needed to eat? Wasn't she human, like he'd once been?

Anna sat up to look at the tray, and her expression transformed to one of shock and surprise.

“Whoa!” she yelped at the plate of Officer's rations. “I asked for something to eat, not actual food.” Kratos was confused, and she seemed to pick up on that.

“I think my stomach might have forgotten what real food tastes like,” she quipped. “Inmates don't get that kind of luxury. But thanks so much.” She took the tray from his hands rather eagerly and proceeded to stuff herself in a rather unladylike way; however, considering she probably hadn't eaten for about a week prior to this, it was understandable.

Oh yes, and she also seemed to give phrases like 'thank you so much' the uncanny ability to raise every hair on the back of his neck.

“Moomn...this is rweall...omnom...goodu...mnomonom...stufph...omommnom,” Anna mumbled in between fat, dripping mouthfuls of stew (with real meat in it!); her body curled over the bowl as if she was worried Kratos might suddenly want it as well – it being so good and all – and was going to tackle her and fight her for the bowl of what he considered pretty poor slop anyway. He had a chef who prepared meals for him, if he didn't feel up to doing it himself, as he'd had so long to refine his tastes that he was the only one who could make food the way he liked it these days.

“You're... welcome,” he said quietly, and then underneath started to laugh a little – she simply looked so ridiculous stuffing her face; she had stew in her hair. Perhaps she had transgressed from a pet mouse to a pet puppy.

He knew he could only carry that metaphor so far, though. She was still a human being, and he was technically keeping her prisoner even now – even though it was a step up from her previous captivity, she was still caged.

But he knew, like a brick wall at the end of any train of thought about this girl, that Anna's fate was sealed – she would do a lot for the cruxis project, but her life would be lost in the process. He found himself wondering all to often these days why it had to be her for this project, why couldn't it have been someone else, anyone else. Why would this girl have to die, when there were so many others who could have.

Kratos had made a promise to himself: he would do something, anything to make Anna's last few months on Sylverant just a little better than the rest of her pathetic life. It was a hopeless cause, but the look on her face as she sat back, stomach full and a smile on her licked-clean lips, was enough to make him think it just might be worthwhile.

“How... are you?” he asked tentatively, looking around at the books she'd scattered.

“Beginnin' to get bored of reading,” she joked. “No, it's okay.” She shrugged. “A bit boring, I guess.”

“I'm... sorry,” he said awkwardly, not knowing what else to say.

“It's not your fault, innit?” she laughed. “If it wasn't for you I'd still be in the kennels with the rest of 'em.” Kratos suppressed a smile; perhaps she had sensed his treating her like a puppy. He would not be surprised if she did, for she was very quick to learn and intuitive. In little over a week she had progressed in leaps and bounds with her reading (she had little else to do), and although she claimed it was just refreshing what she'd already known before the Human Ranch, he was impressed all the same.

Anna toyed with a piece of her hair, picking gravy from it with a slight blush – she had realized how messy she had been in front of such a proper man.

“So...uh, what do you get up to when you're not here, eh?” she said, hoping to change the subject.

“Very little,” he replied dryly.

“Heh, fair enough,” she said. “What did you do before you came here?”

“Another ranch.”

“And before that?”

“Another ranch.”

“And before that?”

Kratos smirked. “Another ranch.”

“Gnome's wormcaste!” Anna exclaimed. “How old are you?” Kratos chuckled; if only she knew.

“Far older than you.” Anna stuck her tongue out at him, and then remembered herself and flushed. This was a man who had taken mercy on here when there was none to give, allowed her to live for a while instead of just survive, and appeared to actually give a shit about whether she lived or died, and not just because she had a special sphere in her. She shouldn't be so rude to him.

Kratos laughed all the same. He didn't recall another person making him so humorous in a long time.

“Where... were you from before you came here?” he questioned after a little while, curious as to the origin of her accent.

“Iselia,” she answered. “Or a bit south of it.”

“I visited Iselia once,” Kratos remarked. “I did not hear your accent there.”

“Oh? Oh!” Anna said. “T'accent? That's Ranch slang. I'v' lived ere longer than I'v been outside now.”

Kratos too had spent much time in the ranches, but he had never noticed the accent or 'slang' before. He realized not long after that this was because he'd never spoken to any slaves from the Ranches for more than two sentences.

Sometimes, he thought to himself, as Anna found a bug in her hair, and crushed it under her nail, sometimes it was all too easy to forget that these were human beings who worked here, and not just people-shaped ants.

Well I hope people are still interested. I've been trying to get back into writing, and I think this is a great way to do it. Hopefully more to come.