There's something a little curious in how she responds--an obedience, a willingness to be posed. A certain pleasure she takes in it. The more you know about what she can do, the more the way she embraces being told what to do is interesting--it's as though she's exhausted with how easy it would be to superimpose her own will over things, and it becomes vastly more exciting to reverse the process.

Hasibe is so used to taking care of herself, of others, of thinking on her feet, being the leader. A touch of reversal is a weight off she sometimes forgets she carries. Familiarity strikes her, here, again--the calm steadiness in his voice, the predator's lilt. She half-closes her eyes, lashes fluttering on her cheeks, when he touches her neck; apparently that is a bit of a preference.

It strikes her that maybe she's using one of his own weapons against him, that her allure is the same as it often is on her fellow monsters...but at the moment, Hasibe doesn't really care. Seeing the reality of Mitchell is enough to put the barest shiver in her spine and her heart in her throat. Her instincts skip over 'fear' and land on 'thrill', a much more dangerous cousin to the former.

(The promise he makes is one Hyde never would, and she doesn't think he's intending to bind her so permanently; this is sex, not consumption. Killing her was always the end game, a final mark of ownership. And with this, she rationalizes her decisions: it's not as bad as before, so it's not that bad.)

"I don't mind being hurt," she says, "Sometimes it's what I need--it keeps me here on earth."

It always comes down to the spirit versus the flesh.

"Take what you want, Mitchell. I want you to."

...she does not, however, want to get fired, but it wouldn't be the first time a soloist at The Vault entertained company in her dressing room.