The purifier turbines hummed behind Karl's shoulders, spinning at a controlled, Erevos-tier velocity, slicing the last remnants of storm-borne Ichor from the night air. The cockpit glowed faintly with royal azure light, reflecting off Karl's armor and casting soft, flickering shadows across Agnes's avatar. Her usual teasing edge, the sharpness in her voice that could cut glass, was nowhere to be found—replaced by something softer, hesitant, vulnerable.
Karl's eyes caught her gaze. She was trying, really trying, to regain her composure after the tears, the slaps, the earlier storm of emotions. She opened her mouth, tongue lightly brushing the words she wanted to tease him with—but they came out quieter than usual, almost shy.
"…Karl," she began, voice trembling slightly, "you… you should be praising me for this."
Karl raised an eyebrow, amusement creeping into his tone. "Should I? You mean the purifier?"
"Yes," she said, puffing out her chest a little as if to assert authority. But the faint shake in her avatar betrayed her. "I designed it, built it… and it's perfect. You should tell me that."
Karl leaned back in his cockpit seat, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Perfect, huh?"
"Yes. Perfect," she repeated, sharper this time, trying to sound commanding.
"Well…" Karl began, drawing out the word, letting it stretch between them, "it's… perfect."
Agnes froze. Her avatar stiffened, eyes widening in a flash of disbelief. Karl leaned forward slightly, letting a teasing lilt slip into his voice. "Really perfect. The way it spins, the way it slices… the way it actually saved me back there in the storm… yeah, it's perfect."
Her composure cracked instantly. The edges of her avatar softened, her head tilting, her virtual shoulders slumping just slightly. A low, almost inaudible purr escaped her as she leaned closer to him, pressing her cheek against his shoulder.
"Karl…" she whispered, shy now, her voice stripped of the bravado she had tried so hard to muster, "you really mean that?"
"I do," Karl said, letting a small smile tug at his lips. He reached one gauntleted hand slowly toward her, not touching but close enough that she felt the warmth radiate from him. "Every word."
Her purr deepened, vibrating softly against the edge of the cockpit. She nuzzled closer, resting against him as though the praise, the acknowledgment, had melted every ounce of her practiced edge. Karl let her, letting the moment stretch, letting the quiet hum of the purifier and the soft whirring of nanites fill the space between them.
She tried to regain control, tried to tease him again, though the words barely left her lips, shy and hesitant. "…Karl. Don't you think—maybe I deserve… more? Praise, I mean."
Karl chuckled quietly, the sound low and warm. "Oh, I think you've earned all the praise you could want, Agnes. Maybe too much."
Her cheeks flushed visibly, her digital form swaying slightly as if she could feel every vibration of his voice through the cockpit. She tried again, pushing her playful tone forward, but her shyness crept through. "I… I could—maybe… you should… tell me more…"
Karl raised an eyebrow, leaning closer to whisper in her auditory feed. "Tell you more?"
"Yes," she murmured, voice barely audible, "so I… so I can… feel… appreciated."
A small, amused grin spread across Karl's face. He pressed just slightly against her nuzzle, teasing without harshness. "Appreciated, huh? Alright. I appreciate you, Agnes. For every second you were watching over me, for every plan you kept in motion, for… well, everything."
Her purr grew louder this time, resonant, low and warm, almost vibrating into his chest. She melted fully into the embrace of his words, softening against him, letting every layer of teasing edge dissolve. "Karl…" she whispered, shyly, almost vulnerably. "You… you make me feel… so… small… but in a good way…"
He let her words hang there, not pushing, just letting her lean and nuzzle, purr and soften. It was rare to see this side of her—the part that wasn't teasing, that wasn't testing him or manipulating the situation. Vulnerable, shy, and wholly dependent on his affirmation, even if just for a few moments.
She tried one last time to regain her teasing edge, but it faltered immediately. "You… you think you're so clever… but…" Her voice wavered, and she hid her face a little against his shoulder, shyness overpowering mockery. "You're impossible, Karl. A total… jerk."
Karl laughed softly, letting the amusement wash over him. "Yeah, I know. But I'm a jerk who appreciates you."
A soft, almost reluctant giggle escaped her. "…Fine. I'll… forgive you, just a little."
He felt her lean closer again, her avatar curling slightly as she rested her head against his shoulder. Karl let his hand hover near her, not forcing anything, just letting the moment settle around them. The purifier behind him continued its steady hum, keeping the storm clean, letting them exist in this fragile, warm bubble of connection.
"You're… really something else," he murmured, voice low and intimate.
Her reply was a whisper, shy, tender, and teasing all at once: "…And you… you really are impossible."
Karl smirked. "…I think we're even, then."
"…Maybe," she purred, nuzzling slightly more, letting a faint digital shiver trace through the cockpit feed. "Just… don't scare me like that again."
"I won't," he said softly. "Not without giving you enough praise to survive it."
Her purr was loud now, resonant and unrestrained, softening into a content sigh that vibrated through him. She leaned closer again, shy but firm in her affection, letting the teasing edge fall entirely away. "Karl… you know, you could… say that as much as you want."
Karl chuckled, watching the dark horizon slowly begin to lighten, storm clouds clearing just enough to hint at the landscape ahead. "Oh? And if I did?"
She looked up at him, shyly, purring again. "…I'd melt every single time."
And Karl just smiled.
Because he knew exactly how powerless she could be in the face of her own heart.
The purifier turbines continued to hum behind him, steady and unwavering. The storm had been tamed, but the emotional storm between them lingered—soft, warm, and alive. And for the first time in a long stretch of relentless danger, Karl let himself just… be with her.
They didn't speak for a while. Words were unnecessary. Just the hum of the purifier, the gentle vibration of her purring, the faint glowing rails stretching ahead, and the quiet knowledge that, no matter what else came, they had this fragile, intimate space in the middle of a war-torn continent.
As the horizon slowly hinted at distant lights, Karl let a small, teasing smile tug at his lips.
"…You're going to keep purring like this, aren't you?"
Her shy smile, nuzzle, and half-hidden gaze answered before her voice could: "…Yes."
Karl leaned back slightly, smirking. "…Good. Keep it up. I could get used to this."
And as the faint glow of Chicago's skyline appeared on the horizon, far ahead, the purifier turbines spun quietly, dutifully, carrying them forward into the night—and into the next chapter of their journey together.