So...being a siren has it's perks. Sure each of us have different abilities and even though I have some healing abilities, I haven't quite gotten most of it down. Got a paper cut? I'm your gal. Small bullet wounds? I'll patch you up. Giant gaping blade wound in the crook of your shoulder...uh...hand me some fishing wire and a sharp sterilized needle and I'll do my best? Right now, that's about what I'm working with. Some found fishing wire, a bottle of whiskey and a needle. Don't even ask where I got the needle, let's just say we call 'em psychos for a reason.

Anywho, it's not sheer happenstance I find myself troubled with the task of sewing a freakishly large man back together. Well not back together per se but, you get the general gist of it. But that's just the cherry toper to this sad sundae. The freakishly large man I'm stitching up, that's right, he's a psycho.

You may be asking yourself, Maya, are you nuts? Why are you helping a psycho? Strike that, I'm sure it's more along the lines of, Why haven't you killed him yet? Well...cause he saved my life.

I know that's not quite the best base for a foundation of trust with a man whose supposed to be well known for killing people like me. Especially vault hunters. But here I am needle and thread in one hand, and a bottle of whisky in the other. After taking a swig myself I poured some of its contents onto the needle then dribbled a bit onto the wound.

The psycho jerked away with a growl, his eyes narrowed at me, "I NEED TO FEEL THE PAIN TO KNOW THE MUFFIN MAN!" he boasted.

I wasn't quite sure what he said, but I'm sure he didn't like the sting, "Don't be such a baby," I teased, "It's to sanitize the wound so it doesn't get infected," I assured him.

He kept his eyes on me, but he didn't seem to object to what I said. I wondered if he even understood what I said. "This is going to hurt...a bit," I warned, "You're going to have to sit still. No, uh, hitting...I suppose."

His eyes were still locked on me and still he said nothing. Sucking in a long breath, I held it and pushed in the needle. I saw him wince and retreat slightly, but not much at all. Not even some quotable shouts. He just sat there, watching me, almost intrigued it seemed. If only I knew what he was thinking.

I can't believe she's helping us. Sure we helped her, but...she's a siren...a vault hunting siren, probably part of the Crimson Raiders and what are we? We are Krieg, a psycho. I wouldn't quite call myself a psycho, more along the lines of this alter me is a few screws loose a meat bicycle. I myself, on the other hand, am the voice of reason. That is if he could HEAR ME! Still nothing. Just the soundless voice in his head. I can hear me just fine, though I seem to have a tough time getting through to him. Once in a while it works. One in a while.

The siren found some whisky on one of the bandits that attacked us, the needle on a...psycho and I guess she had the thread on her. She told us her healing abilities were still in development and hadn't quite mastered any past a bullet wound. I'm sure she was just as shocked as I was when Krieg obediently sat down when asked, waiting for her to get to work. Once the alcohol hit our wound though, he wasn't so willing. Surprisingly enough he still allowed her to continue on.

The needle was much worse than the alcohol, but nowhere near as bad as that blade felt as it went in. Man I hate those rats. If Krieg would have been paying attention, rather than gawk at the siren, we wouldn't be in this mess. Now that I think about it, he really seems to fancy the siren. I'm not sure what to call it though. I think Krieg might actually like her. I think I like her too.

"All done," the siren said with a smile. Such a sweet smile.

Krieg glanced at the stitch. It's not that bad, though it was kind of scary to look at. Just...tell her thanks, something to let her know how appreciative we are of her work.


Or...that works too.

I saw the confusion on the siren's face, she was just as lost as I was. "'re welcome?"

Oh..ok. Guess she got it. With that I think I even felt a smile on Krieg's face. Tell her your name. It's only polite. You saved her life and she stitched you up. It's only normal, right? AND SO IT WILL STAND FORTH THAT THIS IS MY KRIEG! Sure, let's see if she can decipher that.

"Krieg?" the siren rose a brow. "Is that your name? Mine is Maya. It's a plea- It's nice to...Hey," she pursed her lips, seeming a bit uncomfortable with the situation.

Hey, she got it. Krieg shot up from his seat, "I'M READY FOR A SPIN TINGLER!" he announced. Pulling his shot gun from hit's holster, ready to charge until the pain shot through his arm and up his spine. "THE PAIN MAKES ME MORE ALIVE!"

Maya came up alongside us, "Don't be so quick to move," she warned. "That wound is pretty deep. My stitching will only do so much but we need to get you to a real doctor," she paused for a moment. "Unfortunately, I don't know a real one, best I've got is Zed. We should get you back to Sanctuary," fear filled her face.

I wish I knew what she was thinking.