Kareth learned the word prisoner before he learned the word guest.
Marcus had chosen that deliberately.
The Dominion guard sat across from him inside one of the secured interview rooms beneath the administration building, his injured leg stretched awkwardly beneath the table while a loose restraint connected one wrist to the steel ring fixed into the tabletop. The chain itself had been lengthened two days earlier after Atlas decided he was more interested in asking questions than throwing punches, but nobody had suggested removing it entirely.
Trust still had to be earned.
The guard looked healthier than he had during the quarry rescue.
His fur had been cleaned.
The bandages around his leg had been changed twice that morning.
The fever that worried the doctors during the first night had disappeared entirely.
More importantly, he no longer reacted to every opening door as if an execution squad had arrived.
Suspicious was an improvement over terrified.
