A/N: Um. This is old and trippy, but I like it anyway. I hope you do too.

Disclaimer: Silly readers, Code Geass is for Sunrise!

She's like a knife, he thinks—whipcord thin, sharp, blunt, ready to rip and destroy, part skin and leave wounds. Her blue eyes are like fire as they stare up at him. She doesn't need to speak her refusal. It's clear in the tense way she holds herself, the way her fingernails dig into her chair; the way she turns her face to the side, sneering, when he tilts her chin up to look at him. He wonders what color her blood would be. Red? darker? Do girls who are only half-Britannian bleed the same as full-blooded ones? He knows how Suzaku bleeds; bright, like doves on fire, angel wings turning to dust. Would she bleed the same?

He kisses her, hard, just to surprise her. She tastes like ash; offers no resistance, lips set like steel, spine ramrod straight. He slips his fingers through the laces on her back and traces the curve of it; she shivers, delightfully, arching into it before snapping back into her former soldier's position. When he bites her—bruises blooming like flowers on her neck, her jaw—her blood smells like handfuls of quarters, tastes like it. Just like his own. He smiles at her, gives her his best smile, and says: 'It's all in the blood.'

The turn of her face is all the answer he needs to what she thinks of blood.