"Ha," she called over her shoulder, having moved past him as he'd stood, stunned. Neuropathy was kind in that it had that most coveted of things; floorspace, room to work. Here was not the cramped dark caverns she was once accustomed to, but something more akin to a proper working area, with counter space and cup-holders, and air.

He was off-balance, and she liked that. Motoko reciprocated by giving him time in the swing of her hips to decide on a reaction, and react this time.