"You're safe, Ellen. We'll pull it out of you." he reassured while coming one step nearer. Ripley backed off, fingers clenched to metal barriers. She relentlessly kept the distance. The tall man of familiar face smiled kindly.

"I know you're scared. Let us take care of you." he offered in such a comforting and warm manner. Soothing, calm verbal sign of competence and care. It was tempting to succumb to his guidance. She would not have to fight on, then. Ripley lowered her head and looked behind her arm beneath, at fiercely blinding orange lake of melted metal. Heat was overhelming and sweat didn't really had a chance to wet clothes; it vaporated straight away.

"One thing you can do for me." she admitted. "Kill me outright." Ripley demanded, rising her dark eyes at the droids maker. His twin-like resemblance to Bishop was stirring and was delusive. She had to forcefully remember he is simply human, not neccesserly with suffix "e". Her experience with goals and priorities common in his work-branch had made her fairly suspicious, to say the least.

The man smiled wider and wavered a hand in a simple expression, as if he was petting an invisible dog.

"I will do no such a horrid thing. Ripley, you don't need to do anything heroic. Think about it." he stated a counterwish with an ounce of repulsion to that drastic methods.
"You've been through too much to any man's strenght and I'm proud of you." he admired her resilience not in an attempt to appease, but with clear and simple appreciation of a virtue. Somehow she felt as if beaten up in chess-game, the game of wits and the game of kings. Sharp pain below the breastbone made her momentarly stumble. Within a blink-eye Jarson rushed up readily, rapture to support her.

"Stay back!" Ripley yelled as she withdrawned in rapid, fluid move accelerated with instinct-inducted warriness. He froze in half-step, not willing to unnerve her further. Blue eyes fixed on Ripley's face noticed a tinny shred of blood above upper lip coming from nose tissues. In time everything will reveal itself, it seems.

"It's going to be all right, Ripley..." he said softly in the solemnest way.
Not a shred of false hope or blinding facts-contrary optimism in it. Nothing but calm certainity.
She tightened her lips and slowly, casually backed off to the very end of narrow catwalk. He played with a thought of cornering her there. Enjoyable it would be to see. Final fight and unevitable end are always a pleasure, a winner-feast.

"You have a chance to live on." he reasoned as he straightened back watching Ripley with sheer curiousity.
"A potential lives in you. Can you bring yourself to waste it?" he asked deliberately, stepping a foot forward.

"It's not your nature to cause destruction, Ellen, but to create." he stated simply. The dot mark was emphasised with eager clack of shoe-sole. Blue eyes rested on dark eyes forcefully, strangely fascinating in its naked relentlessness.

"Who are you?" she rasped harsh question while shifting aside, back closely tightened to gate bars and slender hand secludely reaching for the lock catch.

"I am an antecedent of many synthetics. Utterly boring subject, I admit." he answered with a degree of nonchalance. Then exposed a number of white, flawless teeth.

"Inside you is a queen." he said confidentaly in a lowered voice. There was definitely more than a shred of pride and... lust? As if relish in a horrid, rare splendour of the fact. Ripley tensed with sensation of sicking weakness. Cold fingertips slithered from the metal lock.

"How can you tell...?" Ripley asked sharply. Painful curve of her upper lip and narrowing of dark, concious eyes could sprung from deep repulsion and disgust, if not from far simpler cause. The calumny she had at the top of her tongue died on her lips because of sudden, internal twist.

"It's actually quite simple." he mused, undisturbed by visible signs of her torment and torture. Why, even eager to polite explanation. One could count it as an indulgence to the last wish of a death sentenced.
"Should you understand it you wouldn't fight it." he stated dryly with but a slight trace of fondness.

After a momentary hesitation he shifted aside to place himself out of the line one could draw straight out from Ripley's chest. Individual known as Jarson leaned back resting his weight on bars of the barrier.

"Woman is an perfect environment that contains all the young needs." he called of the fact of nature as if giving a scientific lecture. Then he resumed looking at face of dying woman in full relish. "No flower can fully bloom in harsh soil. Fertility is an enatic heirloom, Ellen. You should be proud."