Her expression darkens. 'I was held prisoner by a being who saw me as a fuel source and not a person,' she says quietly. 'The fuel was my pain and suffering. I'm not being poetic. That's literally how it was. So no, I'm not giving up anything at all, tangible or not, without a contract in place. If Vaeros wants something from me, he can talk to me and deal with me fairly, and come to a mutually beneficial and consensual agreement. Until that time? There's dignity in doing things with my own two hands. However clumsily.' She glances down at those hands. They're tougher than they used to be. New calluses. 'There's none at all in standing in front of an inanimate crystal begging an unseen person for handouts and having to pay an unknown price for them.'

Tayrey isn't getting emotional about it. Her words are even and considered; this is simply how it is for her. She lives by her principles.

Can she ask for help, though? Again, she has to consider it. Most people would simply hear a pithy remark about her independence, but she trusts Levi more than that. Sometimes you have to rely on your comrades, don't you? If you know that they won't see you as lesser because of it - and she doesn't think he will.

'We could work out an exchange,' she agrees, finally, 'and maybe - maybe you could show me the most efficient way to handle it.' Maybe it's not wrong for her, she decides. It hadn't ever been her job shipside, and she'd been right to refuse after that, because cleaning the place of her imprisonment wasn't proper for a Tradeliner. Things are different now, aren't they? This cottage is hers.