"Well, what if I don't want a comfortable and safe little life in a gilded box, what if I enjoyed sleeping out of a fucking car in the middle of a desert beset by raiders and bio-engineered monsters and fucking sapient worms and, and, fuck, what the hell does 'deserve better' even mean when it's laid down on high by someone else, huh?!"

"It means you get to stay alive," he replies, miserably.

"Would I be the idiot you fell in love with if I wanted to stay alive more than I wanted to live?"

"No. So you see what my problem is, don't you. Apparently my type is absolutely crazy people, isn't it."

"Evidently!"

"Well, well fine, while we're being dumb and dramatic and tragically bemoaning how we can't ever be together can I kiss you?"

"Zash you are a literal mindreader why did you even ask such a stupid question!"

"Because I love hearing your answers," he says, and instead of doing anything a sane person would do like leaning further up to kiss her he stands all the way up so that he can pull her to her feet with him and then kiss her.

It's probably just her impression that his feelings get more intensely felt while he's kissing her, but it's one he himself is indulging in.

No no she's in full agreement kissing definitely intensifies all feelings involved ever. She wants him so badly and she loves him so much and they are so doomed and she should care but she doesn't except for how she does and and and. Many feelings. All at once.

Being a mind reader and psychic projector means they don't need to stop having a conversation while kissing.

[I love you, I love you so much, Yvette, I love you—]

She loves him too, so so much, why weren't they doing this awful terrible idea earlier, it's not like everyone and their mother weren't absolutely certain that the two of them were fucking, even with the damn ice queen thing she's pretty sure the entire crew suspected there was some sort of reason he kept wanting alone time with her in the plant room and then ending up exhausted afterwards...

He doesn't laugh with his mouth because his mouth is for kissing right now but he does laugh with his mind. [I don't have the equipment, haven't had it for over a century, but I'd get it back for you. I've never missed having a sexuality as much as I do right now.]

Well then HURRY UP ALREADY!!!

[It takes a second—]

An alarm starts blaring all over the ship.

"Oh come the fuck on!"

"Son of a fucking-!" she agrees, loudly.

Does the plant know—

"Shit. There's someone attacking Morgan and they're having a full on fucking fight on deck—" Worst timing. Worst goddamn fucking timing where's his gun.

"Yes, yes, fine, go already!"

There's a brief shy pause, then:

".... with my love."

He steps up to her, wraps one arm around her waist, dips her low Hollywood-style so he can kiss her like that for a few seconds.

Then he straightens up and yeah he's gone.

The person who's attacking her is a tall, thin man with shoulder-length white hair in a ponytail wearing a suit and about a quarter of a skull-shaped mask that covers only his left eye and cheekbone. He's carrying two gun-crosses, but they're much much smaller than Morgan's, about as large as a suitcase each, and they shoot at machine gun pace.

He's not saying anything, he's just unloading a frankly absurd number of bullets at her.

And Zash comes from above like the fist of God and hits the man with two feet, sending him flying off. "Friend of yours?" he calls to Morgan.