(no subject)
It’s not that odd a sight, a youngish, brown-haired woman in jeans and a shirt, coming through a door that hadn’t been there a moment ago. Granted, she has a rolled-up carpet under one arm, but that’s not so odd, either. In fact, unless one can detect the slug-like alien directing the show from the human’s brain, she seems perfectly ordinary.
But Telrim 4219 wasn’t expecting this. A moment ago she was in a corridor of the Pool ship, and she’s well through the door before she starts and halts. The Controller tenses and stares around, her free hand straying to the Dracon beam at her side until her gaze falls on the sign. She frowns at it, then sighs and relaxes slightly. It’s unlikely anyone would want to kill her specifically. They can have one of her questions.
“What is the ‘mainstream’? Are you a part of it, or do you have,” she smiles slightly, “a niche of your own?”
She closes her eyes a moment, shifting the carpet under her arm. “And if there’s an Asfil behind this, you should come out now. I’ll be reasonable and tear off Issek’s palps, not yours. Promise.”
((Back! ^_^))