Sam lifted an eyebrow before she could force her face to remain neutral. [i]"Shifty?"[/i] she repeated, incredulously. [i]"Says the guy who eats [b]trees[/b] with [b]tentacles[/b]."[/i] She cleared her throat and stood, the backs of her knees thrusting the chair backward. It scraped and squeaked against the tile floor, almost toppling with the force applied. She grabbed her plate and avoided eye contact with her would-be savior.

The plate clattered in the sink. She hadn't meant to abuse the stoneware, but it happened. She felt her cheeks burning. Her first reaction was to question why, but her mind immediately shifted to his know-it-all, superior tone.

[i]"Who the fuck does he think he is, anyway?"[/i]

She realized she'd been standing at the sink for several seconds when her eyes focused, producing a view of white knuckles curled around the edge. Her expression softened and she let go of the counter. She had to keep cool, at least for now, or she might risk losing out on her ticket out of this place, or worse. The thought of alien interrogations made her swallow her pride and turn to face the doorway to the main area. She tried to take a deep breath, but huffed it out as an exasperated sigh. On her way past the table, she paused to glare at Jaiden.

"I would say 'eat me', but, in [i]your[/i] case, I don't want to risk being taken literally."

She breezed past him, refusing to look at anything but the opposite wall, and disappeared up the stairs. Her footfalls were not light, despite her desire to prevent any display of emotion. First the government, then the mafia, then actual [i]bloody[/i] aliens, and now she's to be lectured by some shape-shifting wannabe rebel? She reached the living quarters before realizing there was nowhere else to go. She didn't even have a room to stay in.

[i]"Way to go, Shirley Temper..."[/i] she chided herself, her back thudding into the linen closet. She slid down into a sitting position and buried her face in her arm.