"You are breathing too loudly, Assistant."
The elevator hummed as it ascended from the subterranean vault to the executive levels.
"I apologize, Sovereign," Yanna said, forcing her chest to still. "The tungsten is shifting. The gravitational pull is severe."
"Does it drag?" Camille asked, not looking away from the polished steel doors.
"It drags, Mistress. It pulls the internal tissue downward."
"And the welts?"
"The fabric of the skirt is creating friction against the raw skin, Sovereign. The bleeding has likely resumed."
"Good," Camille murmured, adjusting the cuffs of her crisp white shirt. "Let it bleed. If you stain the grey wool of the suit, it will serve as a visual metric of your utilization. Do you remember your instructions?"
"I am to sit to your right. I am to take notes. I am to remain entirely silent."
