"Would you trust it, if it was just given to you? Or would it be more honest to know you made me hand it over?"

Shimmering blue, stained by blood as vivid as her eyes, all will and motion that refuses to settle. Unruly chaos, compared to the steel and well trained strength in front of her.

Just her fingertips on Carolina's chest, over where she knows the scar must be. Her scar.

"It doesn't have to be me. But it could be."

And before she can say anything else, she hears a death rattle, a pained and low groan coming from behind.

"...for fuck's sake."

Is that Crichton, when she turns around to see who it is? Yeah, those eyes, that height, and that ass are unmistakable. And he's got his neck torn open, so he's definitely dead as he's charging the pair of them.