Know thy enemy

[Loske Treicolt]

Location: Indomitable ​

Spring in her step, long legs carried her in hurried pace from the crowd gathered in the briefing room. She’d raised her voice in front of the entire cast of pilots that belonged to the Galactic Alliance, and now she had to follow-up on her word. The meeting had been collected to see what the Alliance could do to better their efforts, and get ahead in the conflict. Lujo had been a tip of the iceberg, and they wanted to develop from there. Her suggestion had been that instead of throwing more people at the problem; they find the problem out just a little bit more.

Now it was her albatross.

Tight breaths left her lips as the newly appointed first lieutenant took a sharp turn down one of the halls for the Indomitable. Fists clenching and unclenching to establish some sort of distracting rhythm for her excitement, she released on last puff of air and shook off the unprofessional clutch of anticipation that gripped her stomach.

This was going to be a really

really

really

big task.

And she needed help that could keep her really

really

really

out of the clutches of the sith.

She’d heard the stories of the Sith, and what they’d done to The Republic’s Jedi and persons. As a Non-Forcer, she was extremely susceptible to whatever vile torture they might push on her. And that was soberingly terrifying. Sure, she was trained in melee; but against mind tricks and lightning sorcery? No such luck.

But, even though her exposure to the Jedi was limited, she did have an idea on who could help. Someone who she’d already done some penetrative sneaking around with on Karfeddion.

She figured they were in relatively good graces, considering he’d given her the coordinates to meet his sister; and it never hurt to ask anything, right? Especially when the clocks were ticking.


Footsteps continued, tracing the route to where the guest bunkers were stationed. Strut, strut, strut.

Fist made, the knuckles of the blonde pilot rapped against the thick metal of the door she’d managed to trace down via some sort of sorcery of her own, the magics of omniscience perhaps.

Rap

Rap

Rap.

The impatience was communicated in tight execution of the knock, before she stepped back to allow the door to hiss open.

Another shallow, anxious breath released to cure her pending nausea.



[member="Micah Talith"]

 

[Micah Talith]

A hiss of the door was [member="Loske Matson"] ‘s initial greeting, presenting your rather standard cabin bunk. No frills and with the intent to save space, the layout was rectangular, with a refresher in the middle and a fold out bunk from the wall. A small kitchenette along the wall also folded out, along with the wide viewport at the far end of the cabin.

The lights were dimmed, so it wasn’t as bright as it typically would be. Curious. Were Loske to enter, it would seem as if the cabin were relatively empty. So far, no one was visible.

At least no one seemed to be.

So far, only the light hum of the air recycler could be heard from the overhead vents. The wide expanse of space shone through the viewport, reflecting a starry black sky and the red glare of a distant sun. It certainly wasn’t an unoccupied cabin. There was a large leather bag on one corner of the room. The desk held a medley of curious curios, talismans, and a twin pair of lightsabers. A cloak was tossed over the bunk, heavy tanned and sporting a few scars and sears of its own.

Set off to the side was the phrik and Terentatek armor, the helm with the curious black visor perched carefully upon the desk. Its vacant eyes would seem to bore down at the young blonde woman, perhaps even daring her to enter.

Which considering the Talith in question, was altogether too likely!


[member="Vexen"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

In truth, Loske had anticipated a silhouette to fill the door when it opened; but instead it was as vacant as the corridor behind her.

“Hello?” She asked, the query sounding cliché as soon as it passed from her lips. Her head would peek forward first, like a chicken the body of the pilot would remain stable. Her feet followed her chin, and she was over the lip of the doorway, now officially in the vacant space. Blue jean gaze laced the room from top to bottom, corner to exit and back again.

A sound hmmm shook her chest as she continued to walk. The door had opened so she considered it an invitation. These things were pretty well sealed, otherwise she would have a far easier time waking Grey up from time-to-time.

About 45 seconds passed and it was apparent the Talith Jedi wasn't going to reveal himself anytime soon. And in true Loske fashion, she couldn't keep her hands to herself. Like a crow attracted to shiny objects, a table of trinkets caught her eye. Pieces of jewelry and other unknown items. For a moment, fingers traced the reward she'd achieved. A silver ring with Force powers imbued in its design. The items on the table were far too decorative to be just fashion pieces; and from her peripherals on Karfeddion, she didn't suppose [member="Micah Talith"] was the vain type to only wear items for marvel.

"Guess nobody's here." She announced, audibly. Waiting another handful of seconds for a correction.

None came.

Unable to restrain her insatiable curiosity, Loske held back no longer.

She'd never been this close to a lightsaber before. And, truth be told, the only one she'd ever seen ignited had been Abel's when slashing ships.

The fact that she had this opportunity was beyond her control. She'd heard that Jedi never left their weapons- they were extensions of themselves. Never discarded or unattached. It was unlikely she'd ever get the chance to touch a lightsaber other than this moment. So, hungrily and cautiously, she ran her fingertips over the scratched cylindrical hilt before curling it more into her grip.

Her breath hitched in surprise, the touch opening up an unexpected tale. She was still very much standing in the empty metallic room, but her vision was no longer seeing the table of items; rather it revealed a presentation beyond any memory she could conceive on her own.

 

[Micah Talith]

Fleeting images bloomed within the mind of the young blonde woman. Shadows danced, and upon her mind did the scene about her change. Smoke and mirrors. Twin pairs of blood red eyes. Two women. And the anger directed straight at Loske.

Amusement rippled.

The orange blade hummed with a precise grace, a butterfly motion in front of [member="Loske Matson"] as an idle movement.

Maybe you two ladies can take responsibility, and buy me dinner for my woes.​

Oh one could not miss the devilry in his - no her - modulated voice. The baiting.

Another slight incline of her head as if whispering a secret.

​

I’m a cheap date.​

Psychometry was a finicky thing. All the more to the untrained.

For some Kiffar, it was innate. It would flux and flow with vivid images dependent on the intimacy of the personal object. Emotions could bleed through. Images and scenes a painted scene in the third person or first. Loske received a rather brief brush at a particular dance the Talith had been a part of on Ord Mirit. Nothing was as intimate to the Force Tracker as his lightsaber.

The owner who was currently amusingly watching the young blonde woman caress his hilt he forged himself with avid curiosity. Gingerly touches that would prompt reactions across her delicate features that would stir his own piqued interest. The cabin may have seemed to be empty, but it was not.

Oh no, for Micah Draith Shamalain Talith stood leaning against the threshold of the refresher, wearing only a loose pair of dark grey pants for decency. Wiry arms were crossed across his bare broad chest, the light falling over the intricate black tattoo that spanned the length of his shoulder and down over his heart. At a half sleeve, it was a lurking thing that stretched over his arm and onto his chest where their father's crest would be buried deep in his skin. A light scattering of pale pink scars laced across the left side of his chest, while a brighter coral sear mark from a lightsaber blade slashed diagonally at the center.

That wasn't the most striking feature. No, that singular label was left to the twin suns of his eyes; bright orange circlets that one could swear were like slow burning embers. Only that these were saturated with unhindered amusement and devilry.

"Well, if you are going to make yourself at home touching things, Bright Eyes..." the mischief practically dripped from his voice, his swarthy jaw barely containing the twitching smirk that delivered that roguish grin.

"I'd have at least closed the door first."

The slight swish of the door sliding shut gave the right amount of emphasis then.

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Vexen]

[member="Micah Talith"] [member="Loske Matson"]

A low growl came from a dark corner of the room. A flash of white needles accompanied the noise. It stopped abruptly. Two white points appeared and moved back and forth from Micah to Loske.

"Sorry," a quiet voice spoke. "Was sleepin' and woke to a stranger."

Bright white teeth again showed, as well as a pink tongue as the defel wraith yawned. Her fur absorbed every single photon in the visible spectrum, so the inside of her mouth was a stark contrast to the rest of her face.

As she lazily unfurled herself and moved to her feet a roughly anthropomorphic silhouette revealed itself.

"Who's this?" she asked rather rudely. Vexen was getting better, but she still hated strangers. Especially strangers in whatever her current abode was without proper warning. It took a bit of mental preparation still after her traumatic childhood. Micah would still well remember the frail, shaking form she had been when he'd found her squalid home.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

There was almost a distinct pop when the story ended and Loske was zoomed back into reality. Her body seemed to shift, almost as if she’d been rear ended and forced forward a step. Mouth slightly agape, her hand shook in confusion at that trigger, realizing that her tender hold had turned into a white knuckle grip to the carved hilt.

Another cliché became audible, although barely, it was a string of words squished all together in a single, horrified breath: “Whatjusthappened.”

Sometimes, Loske had out-of-body experiences. It was rare. And it was usually when she was tired. She’d always slotted it up to exhaustion and hallucinations. In this instance, that was not feasible. She was totally awake, and her heart rate was already dangerously high due to her anxiousness for her new responsibility she’d tasked herself with.

“Auh,” she gaped for a moment, re-centering herself from the jarring experience to the realization that she was not alone in the room and [member="Micah Talith"] had been creeping all along. She blinked for a second, focusing herself back into the moment and regaining her composure.

She lost it again once she realized how underdressed the fiery-eyed brunette was. She was so used to people in armour, onesies, and coils that hook up to air support and whatnot. Or at least drapes of robes. Unless she was training for melee hand-to-hand, people were rarely so underdressed. He’d better not jump her.

Eyes quickly shifted to lock with orange - the flicker of confusion being forced away with a knavish simper. Shrug rolled from slender shoulders, “I wanted to keep the options open for a quick exit.”

The dog-like creature then spoke, the [member="Vexen"] she’d seen listed on the dossier for Karfeddion. An eyebrow wiggle was directed at this point “S’ok, I’m Loske - I was technically supposed to be your evacuation pilot for Karfeddion.” It was peculiar to be talking to an animal -- though you got used to it in a space world.

 

[Micah Talith]

Well what do we have here?

The internal muse of the Talith would flutter through his mind, ignited by his near insatiable curiosity. He was a product of his mother and father, an amalgam of two equally curious creatures. [member="Loske Matson"]n startled reaction along with the quick breath of shock and surprise was a curious little curio indeed.

However, his piqued interest would not quell the Talith's propensity to have a little bit of fun.

Lean muscles would ripple as the scruffy faced scoundrel would uncross his arms, pushing himself up to his full height. A grin shot over to [member="Vexen"], which then panned upon the young blonde woman as he began to saunter over to her direction. There was an unconscious grace to his step that brought to mind the languid prowl of a Bhalair, as if he could quickly cover ground with little thought due to a predatory edge that thrummed underneath the surface.

"That might be a problem if you sink into a reverie." he said point in fact, teasing her about her slight slip into daydream. His citrine gaze would narrow upon her heart-shaped visage, dancing over the almond shaped blue eyes, full lips, and her athletic build. Any may consider his appraisal the typical appreciation of a young man for a pretty girl, but Micah was more keen on what went deeper. It didn't mean he would quit his light-hearted banter.

"A customer of Kai's, if I a not mistaken...interested in her droids." his amusement was evident as it rippled across his swarthy face, the Talith coming to a halt just short of the blonde.

"Although she appears have shifted said interest to my hilt." the twitch at the corner of his mouth grew. An incline of his head would prompt the fall of dark forelocks over his brow, tickling the dark fringe that surrounded his eyes. With his mop of shaggy hair, he had the look of a mischievous little boy with too long hair and no desire to trim it.

"Which Brighteyes, your're holding onto a knuckle-white grip there." Micah had long been known to give nicknames to his acquaintances. That little boy grin grew wider, "A little lighter," he suggested, devilry growing,"Relax the grip. Then you'll do just fine."

Had Kaili been here, she'd have rolled her eyes at her brother then.

 

[Vexen]

[member="Micah Talith"] [member="Loske Matson"]

Vexen drew herself up to her full - if rather diminutive - height. She rubbed her eyes with her paws before looking between the two humans as Micah spoke. Oh dear, he was trying to be funny again. This never ended well.

"Hello Loske," she grunted. Sorry, she thought. Without any attempt at manners she turned and walked into the side chamber, pouring herself a glass of water. Manners were not always her strong point at the best of times, certainly not when she was rudely awoken by some combination of the girl's curiosity and Micah's shenanigans she hadn't quite figured out yet.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Lips twisted and eyes narrowed slightly at his response. Her slipping in and out of consciousness was certainly not a habit, in fact, it had never happened before. (False. This was a tendency eliminated from her memory; her Force usage had been deemed as damaged and dangerous and removed from her recollection).

Space closed, and she was slightly relieved it was not the being with the needle-teeth that was getting closer to her. “Uh, no.” Loske replied defiantly, not hesitating on her consideration. “No, thank you.” At this point, her knuckles would release and the grip would indeed not remain quite as tight - but she shoved her hold more toward [member="Micah Talith"]’s stomach — as if it were a hot potato she needed to stop touching immediately. Otherwise she’d get scalded.

Ponytail swayed fervently as she shook her head to accompany her denial of responsibility.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Thankfully, the opportunity to drop the conversation arose with the salutations from Vexen. “Hi, and you’re [member="Vexen"].” She quickly finished the observation with “It was in the Karfeddion dossier.”

 

[Micah Talith]

"Omph!" Micah gave a mock grunt, as if the shove of the hilt to his belly had winded him. A feint expression of affront at his sagely advice went drifting over his face, one that couldn't linger as the mischievous twinkle soon returned.

"Oh, then what was then?" he'd ask, his eyes dancing with merriment at [member="Loske Matson"] 's adamant denial. His grin drew wider, flashing a dimple as he regarded the blonde woman. If amusement could ripple across muscles, it did then. The Talith practically hummed with good nature, edged with humor at Loske's expense.

"Do you typically slip into daydreams while holding a man's property?" there was a wry tinge to the tenor of his voice as a glance was spared to [member="Vexen"] . He could feel the Defel's mild annoyance at being so rudely awoken, but otherwise than that, was doing fine. That she managed to do so well was a note of pride for the Talith.

"If so, Brighteyes, I'd say one would wonder what said daydreams hold." he'd flash her a wink, passing on by her as he'd amble over to the Defel. He would flip the hilt. It spun in the air before he deftly caught it again. One spare hand came up to thread his fingers through his hair, musing the mop as he gave Vexen a grin.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Suggestive tones were lost on the test-tube baby. Her exposure to raw flirtation was sorely limited, despite the attractive genetics she’d inherited from the two Jedi Masters Matteo and Grayson.

It took her a second before she realized what the directive intonation meant, and a lightbulb slowly lifted the dimmer in her mind. oooooh. “Evidently nothing worth re-watching.” Loske pointed, with a nod of her head indicating the forced transfer of possession between her and him of the hilt. Slightly tight lipped now, nostrils twitched before shifting to the point of the conversation. There was no point in denying the fact that something had happened, her zoned out visage and obliviousness for a moment had betrayed that.

Also, was this brighteyes thing going to continue?

She really needed to get out of this conversational hole before [member="Vexen"] bit her. Or [member="Micah Talith"] for that matter.

“Anyway, sorry to arrive before you were decent.” In regards to his dress (or lack thereof). Her gaze trailed as he brushed past, not yet angling herself to face either of the pair.

“-I have this thing that I have to do, that you..” she turned on her heel to follow the wandering of the Jedi and toward the black-haired Defel. “And you. Would be perfect for.”

Unlike her maternal genetics, Loske had no trouble admitting her reason for outreach. Though a simple statement of I need your help seemed too desperate for the cards the Talith was playing.

"Interested?"

 

[Vexen]

[member="Loske Matson"] [member="Micah Talith"]

Vexen was a curious sort. She could be a sullen little creature and shy around strangers, dependant upon Micah. At the same time she also had a hard edge from growing up alone in the worst of circumstances. One trait that had emerged since her meeting with Micah was a rather dark sense of humour and a predilection for deadpan humour.

One thought went through her head: she didn't know what the word dossier meant. However it was stifled under the chance to poke fun at Micah.

Ever so slowly, she turned her head towards him after Loske said the word 'interested'.

She gave him a look, daring him to interrupt her before she replied to the question.

 

[Micah Talith]

Ah, hah! So she did see something. Interesting.

To say that Micah wasn't feeling a bit smug was putting it lightly. It would reflect in the wide rascal grin as he gave pause, half turning back towards [member="Loske Matson"] with another mock affront. "You wound me, Brighteyes!"

"My mum would dare say I am a rather decent man due to her upbringing." a throaty chuckle came rumbling up his chest, arms flexing as he came up beside @Vexen. Oh he caught that peculiar shadow in her eyes, felt the swell of her dry humor rising. A small gesture and an incline of his head would say, have at it!

If there was one thing he learned from his parents, was how to take a good ribbing.

He poured himself a cup of water, turning to rest against the counter as he crossed one ankle over the next. He practically bled amusement from his pores, muscles flexing as he brought the cup up to his mouth.

"Oh really? A thing that I would be perfect for?" there was a slyness to his impish citrine gaze that would suggest he wasn't quite done with the mild teasing he was enjoying. "I'd say we should at least take it slow... have breakfast, perchance?"

The twinkle in his eyes grew.

"Mum would be right peeved if any woman could have their way just by asking without the niceties first."

 

[Vexen]

[member="Micah Talith"] [member="Loske Matson"]

That stare slowly panned around to Loske. "See?" she added. "He's interested. Why else would he have stripped to the waist right before you came in."

Vexen was also a strange mix if remarkably streetwise and hopelessly naive. Otherwise she might have had a more cutting remark prepared.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Between the thick, molasses like outpour of wit, Loske’s face twitched slightly to conceal the glimmer of wistfulness that spurned in her chest when [member="Micah Talith"] referred casually to his mother. The gentle off-hand comments to the woman that raised him, it was revealing and she had to conceal her jealousy in the same way she’d had to when [member="Kaili Talith"] spoke about her father.

It wasn’t a green monster kind of jealousy; nothing worth pushing her away or anything. It was like a burning ember that was constantly swelling, and sparked sometimes if somebody reflected back on their own stories she couldn’t be privy to. If one dug to the root, it really reverted back to a deep longing, a barrenness in her life. She had no idea who her parents were, or why they weren’t involved in her life. Reflecting back on her childhood, she truly couldn’t pull any sort of memory out other than schools, training, etcetera. (Half truth. Loske grew at an enhanced rate so her physical could support the injected mental and capabilities. There was hardly any time for her to be a child. She has no memories of any parents due to the secrecy of the project, and the announced failure to Jedi Masters Matteo and Grayson.)

“Your mom sounds very right.
When asking isn't the afforded nicety,” Loske replied - thought [member="Vexen"] quickly swooped in with some sort of relief.

Eyes widened slightly, and nostrils flared as she awkwardly avoided any sort of flattering eye groping when the lupine threw her punch.

“Good.” Was all she nodded, ponytail bobbing in satisfaction.

“W-ell, does Coporo mean anything to you?” As she spoke, she dropped her eyes as purposefully as possible and reached into her internal jacket’s pocket.

 

[Micah Talith]

"My father would say my mum is always right."

Micah's amusement would bubble into a low chuckle, taking a sip of water and at least managing not to choke on it when [member="Vexen"] made her quip. A slight incline of his head would suggest with wry humor at [member="Loske Matson"] that indeed, the Defel had a point.

Loske's reaction was a curious little blend of nuances for the Talith. Having a Lorrdian for a mother gave the advantage of being able to speak and understand kinetic communication. It also amounted to the knack at being able to read body language for intent and emotions. Almost like an empath, it allowed Micah to pluck bits of information. What he captured from the young blonde woman was curious indeed.

There was something there. A subtle shift of the eyes, a slight subtle twitch. Covetous as much as it was a yearning. It was faint, she hid things well.

Interesting.

"I only seek to provide what is expected of me." he'd joke, grinning as he added, "Which I may say, mum would not be pleased at our lack of manners if we are to be hosts."

"We have a good year of recycled water if you like." ever the joker, Micah would push himself off the counter to saunter over towards the small fridge. A thick brow, however, would arch over to Loske's direction at the mention of Coporo.

"I might." to say that he had scouted the place himself years back made the Tracker well aware of the Chiss world that served as one of the One Sith's shipyards.

"I wouldn't have taken you for the sort to enjoy a Chiss's dry humor." A finger rose from his cup as if to emphasize, "Or lack thereof." His right arm went reaching out for the handle of the miniature fridge, a small expectant inquisitive stare settling upon Loske then.

"Why?"

 

[Loske Treicolt]

There was that twitch again. Loske was looking down that this point, but a small breath exited her nostrils quickly and caused her chest to sink as she withdrew her data pad. It was no matter though, he’d stomped right past her in efforts to be…hospitable? Disappearing again into the kitchen. Bottom lip twisted into the top one and she made a slight expression toward [member="Vexen"] - as if it were a shared exasperation already between the furry anthro and herself.

“Whaat, mean you’re not a graduate of their jocularity academy?”

So he knew enough to pinpoint the Chiss influence. Good - Loske had to do some digging during the meeting and on her way down here to find that sort of stuff. Actually, she hadn’t even confirmed if it was true or not by this point - but she’d take it and pretend she did.

“Were you part of the battle of Lujo?” Loske asked, leaving long enough for him to react before she continued “There was just a debriefing for improvement.

Actionable solution - not just throw more people at the problem, but,” at this point, the little pad in her palm activated to life; a sketch-like presentation of a star fighter that was not found in The GA’s naval list. “-get to know the problem a bit more.

Coporo manufactures One Sith star fighters.
We want to know more about their production from the source to discover weaknesses we can include in our training.


If there's room for sabotage...” she shrugged.

That part was not authorized.

[member="Micah Talith"] | [member="Vexen"]

 

[Micah Talith]

So the girl had some measure of humor.

Her quip brought forth a crooked grin as he opened the small container, cool refrigerated air wafting over him.

"Just a Doctorate in Conviviality." came his jovial reply as he plucked a bottle of water from the fridge. His appraisal of [member="Loske Matson"] continued as he gave an incline towards the mention of Lujo. That was a mite bit of work and paper trail that he had to deal with after. Something about using Force Light upon helpless sapients and the trouble it had caused with a few days worth of eye burn.

Pardon for thinking that a bright flash was more conducive to the longevity of the slaves than allowing them to to continue clawing their eyes out. It was actually what he had written down. The Alliance investigator had not been amused. Oh well, can't win them all.

A glimpse at the hologram confirmed the One Sith starfighter, and the more she elaborated the more the pieces of the puzzle were starting to fall in place.

"So..." Micah began, searching the younger blonde's gaze as he tossed her the bottle of water. " What you are asking for is a guide?" he preferred the direct approach, at least when it came to such matters. Not that he wouldn't drop a quip or two to be facetious. That expression of devilry returned to his scruffy face.

"Because if you are looking for a pilot..." he brought his glass of water to his mouth, pausing to stare at her over the rim with a jovial half snort that included [member="Vexen"] as if for her to confirm, "You came to the wrong Talith for that, Brighteyes."

[member="Kaili Talith"] was the one who could manage flying a starfighter or anything that flew in the air without bringing it down. If Brighteyes was looking for Micah to do any of that, he was certainly not her man for the job.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Free hand came up to snatch the bottle as it threatened to damage her chest. That's not to say there was not an awkward exchange of balanced between holo and bottle in the process.

When [member="Micah Talith"] angled at what she may have really wanted, a very obvious snort escaped any sort of social norm filter.

Adamantly, she shook her head. "No, that's covered. No no no."

She shifted her weight, shoving the device in her back pocket and twisting the lid of the bottle of water until the seal cracked and she could take a sip. Quenched, she cocked a hip "No, what I need is cover. Stealth and undetectability. From what I could see on Karfeddion, you two are pretty good at that." She pointed the mouth-end of the bottle in [member="Vexen"]'s direction to loop the Lupe back into the conversation.

Confession time:

"I have no stealth training. No sneakiness. Going in for a covert mission is not my forté; though it was my idea."

Also the idea of Sith versus her was scary. But asking for a bodyguard was ridiculous - she wasn't that important.

"Can you fly at all?"

This would be important too. If possible, she'd like to take one of the fighters back to Sullust for more revision.

"Either of you?"

 

[Vexen]

[member="Micah Talith"] [member="Loske Matson"]

Vexen had been muttering something rude about gauntlets under her breath when Loska pointed towards her. She calmed herself by recalled the annoyance emenating off that sith when his shields had been used to burn dark side books and artefacts. Ears perked up, she looked from Micah to Loske.

"I can fly a little," she admitted quietly, not comfortable with being under scrutiny. "Need to be familiar with the ship though. An' being quiet is one thing, but in daylight folk all tend to see a black shadow pretty easy. Sometimes people'll pay more attention to me than a couple of human..." There was a word for this. Began with a 'c' but sounded like it started with an 's'. She gave it a moment, but could not recall it. "Couple of humans dressed up plain."

Vexen resumed drinking some water. The conversation seemed a little above her and she was growing tired of the human pheromones hitting her nasal receptors.