He looked well-bred and positively expensive. Ilya liked that in a man. His soft skin and lean build marked him for a purebred human, his hair and the silver trim on that all-to-familiar clothing screamed his importance loud enough that even Ilya managed to cool her temper and reconsider killing him. He also used words like "may" and "converse", which positively tickled her love of the absurd. She liked sweet, clean things. They amused her. He would amuse her, she thought, for a time. And he would probably fetch a fair price, if they found someone who wanted him back. As with all pretty things, she thought, someone inevitably would. She smiled, and nodded to the huddled crew. 

"Thank you so much for honoring us with your weapons, ladies and gentlemen. Your help will not be forgotten when it comes time blow some of you out the airlock," she began in deep, sultry tones. She loved this part, when she got to do her theatrics while Elizabeth glared icy death at the people listening. Elizabeth was dead now, but Ilya would just have to go on. With a bloody sword in one hand and a semi-automatic rifle in the other, perhaps she made a terrifying enough picture by herself. Her golden eyes glowed from the shadows the emergency lighting cast on her face, and she smirked, casting them about the room until they landed on a pale one who looked like the captain.

"You!" she whipped her sword at him so fast a few drops of blood flew off and hit the captain in the face. The poor, pale man looked as if he were about to faint. "Are you the captain of this ship?" The pale one looked hopelessly at the expensive one, shivering, and gulped, then nodded and stepped forward. Ilya tipped her hat back on her head, the better to see him.

"Y-y-yes sir. Ma'am. Sir. I mean--" Ilya interrupted before the man choked.

"Name?" 

"C-captain Renfred Livet, Association Diplomatic Service 101st Special Corps, ma'am!" he rattle off, clearly shaken.

"You'll make a good pirate, Renfred. Welcome to my crew. Or would you prefer the airlock? Take your time deciding, I have a few minutes. The same goes for all of you, sailors! Except you," she raised her gun and shot, just barely missing the expensive-looking one, and a crew member who had clearly been trying to access a control panel and summon support, went limp. "I don't like traitors. Am I being perfectly clear?" The crew members looked at each other, and one of the braver ones nodded. 

"Good. Renfred, darling, why don't you take these fine men outside to the airlock," her voice returned to its deep, sultry tone, and though she spoke to the captain, her eyes were fixed on the hawk-like eyes of the other, unblinking, "Jazz, we have new recruits. Keep the ones you like, kill the rest." Her eyes had not moved from his, and she hadn't blinked, either. 

"Copy, Cap. We've secured the engine room, and the Twins are getting to work. She'll be all yours in a blink."

"Did you hear that?" Ilya asked the man in front of her, spinning her sword and walking toward him, "This lovely spacecraft of yours, and everything inside it, mine. You, too." She kept walking until he was just close enough to touch, never breaking eye contact, never blinking. She was taller than him by half a head, and that close, he would clearly be able to see that her golden eyes had slits for pupils and were a little too large for her face, and around them, a strange pattern of darker brown marred her coffee-colored skin. Her teeth, when she smiled, looked pointed. "So, no, darling. We may not... [i]converse[/i], as you say. Unless you would like to beg to join my crew. I am kind enough to hear a few supplicants today." She continued to tower over him smiling her feral, sharp-toothed smile.