Reggie’s Donuts was nothing at all special in terms of presentation. Large windows on the street side allowed the bright lights inside to spill out, illuminating the street. It wasn’t that large an establishment either, with no seating inside or out. A small area inside for customers, a large glass cabinet running from one wall to the other that even at this late hour was filled with a spectrum of donuts.

During the day, there would have been a queue, a brisk trade of punters entering for either a single donut, or more commonly, a small box. But this late, there were fewer people and far, far more boxes. The selection was more limited, but the quantity persisted, at least for now.

And after nearly ten minutes of picking and choosing, waiting for staff to box the donuts and sorting out the relevant compensations, Sidda turned to hand a couple of white trays, packed full of sugary treats, over to the brooding Manfred.

The look he gave her would have been a commendable attempt to evaporate her on sight if she hadn’t grown up with her grandmother, her mother, and learned to resist Revin’s own glares in recent years. From stun to kill, to vaporise, his glare was a mild tickle.

“Sidda, my dear, I am not carrying any trays of donuts,” he drawled, as if he actually had any say in the matter. When he turned to face the door, intent on walking out and away to make his point, he was confronted with Revin, who was also holding out two trays for Manfred. “No.”

“You want her help,” Revin said sweetly, “you carry the donuts.”

The standoff lasted long enough for one of the staff behind the counter to tell them to ‘take it outside’. Revin pushed the trays she had towards Manfred once more, smiled sweetly and by the time she let go of them, he had taken up the weight of them. And so soon after, Manfred and Sidda were walking down the street, carrying three trays stacked apiece, while Revin was a few steps ahead of them.

Civility, for what it was worth, was winning the day for now.

“Should I really should be talking to Mistress th’Ven?” Manfred asked as Revin led the way, their destination being the nearest public transporter station in order to send the collected bounty to Republic. “Since, after all, she is free of this burden while you are not?”

“Do you want to be carrying all of the donuts?” Sidda chided. “I thought not.”

Another block passed in silence between Manfred and Sidda, though Sidda and Revin traded words as they passed shop windows. Questions about coming back tomorrow for a particular store, or would that dress look good; the idle chatter as if they were merely out for a dash of retail therapy.

Manfred finally broke the silence. “She’s the reason you quit. Why you didn’t try and become the Last Pirate Queen.”

“One of them,” Sidda said, confirming the statements directed her way. “Also, T’Rev’s décor sucked.”

“And he’d surrounded himself with some of the worse people along the Klingon border.” Manfred was watching Revin as she flitted ahead, studying window displays, or herself in reflections. “I heard more than a few of them speak of you with abject horror. They knew I was a killer, but you were their nightmare. At least the young ones who never had the pleasure of seeing me work.”

“The stories that branded me some vicious pirate killer?” Sidda shook her head as she offered Revin a smile. “Tell me you don’t believe that junk.”

“They always did seem too fanciful to me. You seem more the quick summary judgement and out the airlock sort.”

“Only the slavers and murderers. The pirates I tended to just leave drifting in space and then call Starfleet to come and pick up.” She tossed Manfred a polite little smile. “Girl has to have standards, after all.”

“Naturally. Ones I can even respect.”

Silence settled over them again as they continued, broken only by completely perfunctory exchanges when they reached the transporter hub. Tithes and tributes to the middle deckers manning Republic were made, the wrath of Jenu Trid sated for another day. The silence continued for another four blocks, the nightlife of Banksy City falling off behind them as they neared one of the many cliffside terraces, looking out over the Dai Sea.

Pleasure boats floated on and above the waters of the bay. Far below them a club on the beach pounded with light and sound, but was just a distant little noise as Sidda neared the railing, turned and leaned against it, pulling Revin towards her with a happy little squeal. There were enough cameras monitoring the area. And Manfred had said enough, demonstrated enough with his behaviour, that she felt safe enough to at least hear out his proposition.

And it was remarkably free of people along this section of the terrace; such they could speak freely enough for now.

“Why do you think I’m an expert at dealing with you?”

Manfred didn’t seem phased by the sudden question, or the directness of it either. “Because I am aware of at least three of my exponents involved in matters with you who I have never heard from again.”

Sidda blinked, thinking. “Oh, fuck, the Second Manfred.”

“Second Manfred?” Revin asked, tilting her head back to look at Sidda.

“Yeah, with the New Maquis. There were two Manfreds.”

Manfred sighed before he started to pace, his path capped by two large planters with palm trees in them. Two laps went before he stopped to look at Sidda. “Just how many of me have you killed?”

“Directly or indirectly?”

Manfred just stared at her.

“One.” The answer was punctuated with a mischievous smile. “Which I take is still more than you?”

It was the first time Sidda had ever seen Manfred, or a Manfred as it would seem, exasperated. He rubbed at his face with one hand in disbelief. “One?”

“Yup. Not entirely sure how the two protecting Shreln died. The team that went after her said both were alive, last they saw of them. And they weren’t found in the aftermath either.”

The pacing continued for another two laps. “One of me dead at your hands is still, I regret to say, more than at mine.” Manfred’s sigh really set the tone of desperation he was experiencing. “How did you do it?”

“If I told you, you’d learn. And then I couldn’t use it again,” Sidda answered. “And I’d love to help, but I am on holiday. So perhaps your little family dramas could wait till then, hmm?”

Manfred’s glare was this time elevated to a more respectable light stun on Sidda’s scale. “My dear,” he started, “I don’t, and you don’t, have time for this.”

It was Revin who made the case for Manfred far more than he could. “Go on,” the Romulan woman said, turning in Sidda’s arms to face her. “You’d get bored sitting on a beach, or going shopping. I am certain I can find some people to keep me company while you actually relax.”

“I rarely get bored with you around,” Sidda said. “But some of that does sound very…”

“Not you?” Revin offered as Sidda trailed off. Then she turned her head to face Manfred. “You can have her in the morning. And you promise to keep her safe.”

Manfred’s expression softened from exasperation to bemusement, then to congenial. He removed his hat, held it to his chest and offered a half bow to Revin. “My lady Revin, I promise to do all in my power to return Sidda to you, alive and well. Unharmed even, if at all possible.”

Revin took a moment before nodding her head, mollified by Manfred’s promise. “Good, now go away.”

“If I may?” Manfred asked, Revin indicating he could continue. “For the sake of my need, I’d like to offer my services to escort you both to your hotel for the evening. To ensure you get there safely, of course.”

It was Sidda’s turn to be the whispering one, offering input in secret before public decisions were made. Revin snickered slightly, looked Manfred over from head to toe, then snickered again. “Certainly. But we do have just a couple of stops along the way.”

And then Revin broke free of Sidda’s arms, grabbing Sidda by the hand and dragging her along, past Manfred, at a decent clip.

“Hope you like clubbing!” Sidda shouted as Manfred suddenly found himself having to run to keep up. “Scratch that! I hope you hate it!”