"If that was a concern, then why the hell am I here?" she demanded, eyes narrowing.  "Were you hoping to have him play with my mind, let him undo everything I've worked so hard to rebuild?  Perhaps you find it amusing?"  [i]Dirty fingers digging into her mind, ripping her thoughts apart with a touch so cold it burned.[/i]  "Or maybe my privacy doesn't matter, as long as it's your hands I'm in and not someone else's."  She couldn't attach the right meaning to Tsitua's words, couldn't fully grasp what he was saying.  [i]The stains they left behind, seeping into her, unravelling the threads that tied her to reality.[/i]  Nor could she steady herself, even carefully measured breathing did nothing to calm the restless energy that filled her, telling her this was not a safe place, that she had to run, run, run, get as far away as she could from the ones that sought to invade her thoughts.  [i]She could feel it happening all over again, the ones with the cold minds peeling away layers as the fire they pumped into her veins consumed her from the inside.[/i]  Amuné tried to slow her heartbeat, regain a steady grip on the paranoia that would love to consume her if she let it, on the familiar patterns that let her be some sort of whole.  She strode to the table and poured the requested drink, then moved to hold it out to the seated man.  But she did not sit, instead pacing like a caged tiger.  "Maybe you do think it is for the best, but let me tell you this.  While I would not rather give myself over to the Kabuto than stay here, I am not entirely sure that finding an airlock would not be preferable to remaining one more minute near [i]him[/i]."  She closed her eyes for a moment as she moved, back and forth, taking a breath even deeper than the seven in, seven out she'd been taught for meditation.  She wasn't going to let someone take her away from herself.  Her grip was weakened, not broken.  Five steps and turn, five steps and turn.  She didn't need to look to feel it.  A punching bag would be better, or one of her sparring partners with the pads to target, to engage every muscle in controlled strikes until she settled enough that she didn't have to keep moving, but this would have to be enough.

If Coodaudu was watching her, the unsteady halo of energy she'd exhibited since Nunque's assault slowly steadied as she paced, bit by bit gathered up and redirected into a pattern that, while apparently automatic, was deliberately constructed.  If not interrupted, it was several minutes before the girl finally came to a stop with a sigh and turned to look at Tsitua.  "I may have overreacted," she acknowledged, sounding calmer.  "But I wasn't kidding about the last.  If this is going to be a regular occurance, I will not stay."

---

Jareth started to get to his feet, but never finished the movement.  Instead he rubbed his face with a sigh.  "No, I understand," he told the woman, his smile lopsided and not quite reaching his eyes.  "I would have done the same.  We're unknown variables, it's natural to look to us first, rather than the ones you've been working with for a long time."  As Lya turned to go, he slid to his feet, moving to the doorway.  She seemed upset.  "Hey, um...well, since she's gone to cool off...maybe now might be a time you could show me those things you'd mentioned...?  I mean, if you still want to?"

[@TheMinorFall]