When the unknown one retreated again, Rhylaen settled back on her haunches and considered him for a long moment, running over what she knew.  Agent-Day's tinny voice through her earpiece brought the young woman out of her thoughts.  "No...is tired, is weak.  Is...maybe hurting?"  Rhylaen wished briefly that she was older, wiser, but that was a futile desire.  Age and wisdom took time.  "Maybe turn down lights?"  The lights were hurting her eyes, suited as she was to life in half-shadowed places.  If they bothered her after only a little while, how much more must it bother one that was suited to darkness?

"Ask science men, can turn down lights?  Please?" she asked after a moment, this time putting certainty into her voice.  "I be responsible."  She focused on the one in the blankets again, straining to reaching her thoughts out, but her weak telepathy was not meant for the purpose she tried to turn it to.