#by request

^ ned's is the only sharks comment i noticed

This is good. Never heard this version. Great call. Thanks.

'Lord Captain.'

Heinrix' voice was tense, unusually so, and Gwenllian sighed. It came from the direction of the hidden lift, which meant that Heinrix had bypassed the bridge. He had been using it more often of late, as though he feared Abelard's scrutiny after they had almost been caught together, the night of the warp incursion.

Almost.

'Heinrix? Why are you lurking out in the hall?'

'Are you alone?'

She glanced at Rhiannon, perched on the edge of her desk. They'd been discussing clothing choices for the Magnae, perhaps unprofessionally gossiping a little about Janris' suggested seating arrangement, and definitely not having a cheeky sacra in the sort of protocol-breaking way Abelard hated.

'Rhiannon is here. We were just having a... meeting.'

A pause.

'What on Terra is wrong with him today?' Rhiannon hissed, and Gwenllian elbowed her hurriedly.

There was an audible sigh.

'Lord Captain, I require assistance.'

She raised an intrigued eyebrow. 'Professionally?'

'Of a sort.'

There were footsteps. Rhiannon hopped off the desk and adroitly hid her glass behind a stack of datslates. Gwenllian spread paperwork across her desk and concentrated on it, barely flicking a glance upwards as Heinrix appeared in the doorway.

Oh, sacred feth.

The Interrogator was barely dressed, covered in blood, tightly muscled arms bearing scarlet-stained clothing. He wore blue boxers - Valancius blue, at that, surmounted with a small golden aquila - his rosette, and nothing else.

'What happened to you?' she queried as casually as possible. Her heart was pounding and her throat was suddenly dry and she knew he was picking up on it, if the slight blush that appeared under the blood on his face and immediately vanished was any sort of tell. She couldn't help it.

'There was an... incident... during an interrogation. I got back to my quarters to find my washroom out of order and under maintenance.'

'Ah.'

There was a pause as he shuffled uncomfortably.

'If I may-'

She waved diffidently. 'For feth's sake, Heinrix, you're getting blood on the carpet. You know where it is.'

He bowed his head in thanks and turned with as much dignity as possible. Gwenllian could not prevent her eyes following him, almost breathlessly admiring the breadth of his shoulders, his muscled back, that narrow waist, his long legs.

And, of course, his utterly unfairly perfectly sculpted backside.

'And to think I couldn't work out what you saw in him,' her companion murmured softly.

Gwenllian turned scarlet. 'Rhiannon.'

'Yes, your ladyship?'

She dragged her eyes away from where Van Calox had vanished to look at the maidservant, only to find the girl was about as red-faced as she felt.

'Go ask him if he wants his clothes laundered.'

'Why don't you go?'

'I don’t do the fething laundry, Rhiannon. Do as you're told.'

She vanished after him, giggling, and Gwenllian downed her sacra without tasting it, staring at the door.