She loved seeing him imperfect, not as presented as he styled himself to appear in public; she liked seeing him be human. And she took the jacket once it was past the curve of his shoulders, pulling it off as her fingers tangled momentarily with Solo's. She watched his shirt come off too and lifted her hand to the inked words on his back, whispering them against Illya's skin before she looked up at mention of the little bruise.

"He hasn't returned it yet," Sinthia murmured. "He seems to think I'm fragile." It's certainly easy to mistake her for that with a very feminine build and carriage, and the lack of obvious scars on her--though she had a few, one notably under her breast where she'd taken a bullet.