"Wait, Ebon Claw? What, is the whole arena tournament just one big pirate party? I mean, I've already crossed paths with the Snow Geese and the Red Claws in just the last few days and now you guys are here to round out the trifecta."

[i]Gotta catch em a-

Not. Helping![/i]

Isabelle idly wondered whether whatever drug they'd hit her with caused long term brain damage. It would really explain things.

[i]Now is not the time to lose it, Isabelle. Get out of here, get to a working comms to call for help. Then get rescued, back to civilization. Then get home. Lock the door. [u]Then[/u] lose it.[/i]

[i]I like that plan, it's a good one, hasn't steered us wrong before![/i]

[i]Technically, that plan is what got us here.[/i]

[i]How about we skip the plans and just move on to panic?[/i]

[i]Oh that's a good point, I second panic.[/i]

[i]Thirded.[/i]

Isabelle gives them a good rattle, trying to stamp down the rising adrenaline so that she can focus on something productive.

"Right! Good!" she replies, with all the cool of an ice cube in a volcano. "That I'm not your type I mean. Not that you're not aesthetically appealing, objectively I mean, but I don't think you're my type either."

[i]No, after all we like them short haired, tan skinned and with engineering degrees --

What do you mean 'I don't think'? ...

SHUT. UP.[/i]

"Who is Solarel and why would she be all the way out on this rock?" she asks, mostly to drown out the internal cacophony.

"Is she really worth bringing your [pack] out here?" she asks, making a passable effort at the Hybrasillian. All those language courses, ostensibly for interstellar business, were really paying off here. If she could keep them talking, maybe she could find an opportunity.

"Oh, and do you have any biscuits?"

[Roll to read a person. 1 + 6 + 0 - squeaking through with a 7. What do you love most? How can I get you to slip up?]