"Oh, believe me," said Titanomachia, leaning down so she could look up at your face from below. She wasn't fighting your stride at all; she oiled into whatever position left for her and turned it into the top. "I [i]like [/i]you poised. I [i]like [/i]you controlled. I like you shining with mysterious dignity. That's one of the things that drew me to you. I think that you have the potential to be the midnight princess of the Hexadrome, fearsome and dreadful and unapproachable."

The edge of the syringe rose up in her hands, gyroscopically stabilized, coming up to brush against the back of your neck just above your Cube without either of you breaking stride.

"And so the thought of you losing that dignity on the floor of the arena [i]disgusts [/i]me," said Titanomachia. There was no playfulness at all. She was as serious as death. "You, flailing wildly as you struggle to control stims you haven't experienced before? You, losing your composure and screaming in pain from a bad hit? You, kneeling before fucking [i]Taowu[/i]? I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. Everything that I pull out of you under controlled conditions is something that could have been pulled out of you publicly, on camera, for everyone to see. So that's my objective: to get ahead of that curve. To find all your weaknesses and burn them out in private so that nothing out there can shock you."