(from Ratio towards Sunday)
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Summary
"Miss Sunday. Look at me."
Feeling like a schoolgirl about to be lectured, Sunday dragged her eyes up from the relatively safe vicinity of Ratio's arms and chest (oh, who was she kidding, there was nothing safe about that) to meet his rose-hued eyes with trepidation. Ratio gazed at her with an odd sort of intense yet benign interest, not unlike his usual scholarly mien, but she could feel the energy rolling off him. He was clearly enjoying this.
"I'll make it easy for you," Ratio began again, that familiar patronizing tone curling into his voice. "Lift your skirt so I may examine you."
Sunday limps back onto the Astral Express late one night after an unexpected rendezvous with the Stellaron Hunters leaves her bruised, tattered, and exceptionally well-fucked.
Unfortunately, one Dr. Veritas Ratio has been visiting the Express and is still awake to intercept her attempt to sneak through the party car. A misunderstanding leads to Sunday allowing the doctor to examine her injuries, only for it to become obvious to both of them that, for all her shame, Sunday still inexplicably aches to be touched.
Naturally, Ratio has a solution.