The attack has aided in distracting Tarn from his spiral into oppressive melancholy. His complete annihilation by Natatsha's hand has left him bruised both in body and ego. He has been utterly humiliated and the subsequent self doubt and depreciation was not easily quieted.

But today, for the first time since the incident, Tarn has begun to brighten from the subdued shadow that he's found himself inhabiting. The Barrayaran soldiers flooding the base act as a way to vent his frustrations. Armed with only a stunner, Tarn has found creative ways to kill his victims. Sometimes he stuns them before simply breaking their neck. Others are less fortunate. Most recently, Tarn has found himself taking his insecurities out on a hapless solider, beating his face in with the stunner until it's an unrecognizable bloody smear.

His blood lust slowly begins healing his pride. Each kill has Tarn feeling more himself. He's walking away from the particularly brutalized corpse when a familiar face rounds the corner.

"Ah, we meet again. You have rather poor luck, Miles." Tarn flicks blood from his hand causually, staring down at him. He won't kill Miles-- the consequences most certainly would not be worth the brief satisfaction that he would feel-- but that doesn't mean that he can't have a bit of fun.