It was not, of course, strictly speaking necessary to take the bags back in so many trips. And if that was true there was no need whatsoever to walk at such a slow, deliberate pace. Let alone with the exaggerated [i]sashay[/i] she chose to celebrate the moment. Yes, thank you darling little Terenian, watch the pretty tail if you please. Are you feeling sleepy? Or something else, perhaps~?

Would you like to... come inside? Or maybe slinking back into your vehicle and self destructing in the dark and quiet before your next assignment is a little more your speed? 

"Mmm. Thank you very much. Worry not: your personal compensation has already been included with our purchase."

Her smile is absolutely lurid as she reaches for the final box. The door closes with such deliberate slowness that it should be counted as a crime. And maybe it would. But who would bold enough to charge her for it?

Only once she's alone with Slate again does she let the embarrassment show. And then only through a handful of sharp sniffs and a fluttering of her left ear. The smile that greets her seems to pull all the air out of her chest, and she slumps down at the table rather than seating herself with even a modicum of grace. Suddenly she is flustered. Exposed. She pulls inward and hunches forward as she reaches for noodles and one of each kind of dumpling along with a tall glass of cold clean water. Now her movements are careful and small. Now she goes through effort to hide everything she'd been showing so proudly.

Always the way with her. Heedless for the length of the battle. It's only when it's over that she notices the number and the depth of her injuries. So to speak. Point to you, Selin. That makes... what, since we've come here? Thirty-seven to two? Good for you!

Mira takes a small bite of a dumpling: so small and so delicate that she comes away chewing nothing but a small amount of dough. She tilts her head as if lost in thought. The second bite tears the thing to pieces, and her eyes flutter closed in pleasure.

"D'pndsh whn shh'mrnnn." She slurs before finally swallowing her bounty. Another dumpling is already in her hand, but she holds it. It moves toward and away from her mouth in a horrible dance, if it could in fact feel fear.

"If you are looking for clear answers, I have none. Possibly, we have been infiltrated. One of our darling, precious engineers is a traitor in thrall to Solarel. If you believe that, then I'm very excited to cheer for you in the next match. Have fun."

She shrugs and chews another dumpling, this one full of heavily spiced meat, and calmly lets the steam pour out her mouth before continuing. 

"But other forms of sabotage are more possible. Nothing definitive. Sound is a focusing factor in the control of nanites, I have been informed. If our hangar was reshaped for the benefit of a sneak-thief, there would have been a noise. One among our number should have marked it. Would you have said anything, if you'd heard? It might have sounded like anything at all. We shall have to ask."

She slurps at noodles, now. Takes several long swigs of her water until it starts dribbling down her cheeks. She lets the droplets fall on her breasts without complaint. Her spine straightens. She displays herself with pride again, and the detachment of a woman too lost in a puzzle to have any room left in her heart for modesty. Her tail curls around her legs. She plucks it up and chews on the tip contemplatively without thinking about it.

"But if this is the methodology, the number of culprits will be slim. It was an act of real skill, sound or no. The caste system of the Zaldarians is such that most such individuals have the favor of their Empress. Solarel does... not. A sufficiently talented, excommunicated materials-whisperer, and one quite freshly arrived in the system. Someone whose loyalties, or at least services, are acquirable beyond the fear of repercussion via Solarel's newfound mastery of currency and commerce. I knew it was a mistake to watch the wolf-cart anime with her. But even still, our list of suspects could not possibly stretch beyond a pair of names, at most. A very straightforward search."

Mira eats quietly until continued sustenance is impossible. This happens much sooner than her general lack of food the past several days would have suggested. But the fare was delicious, and why would she believe the leftovers would be any less so later? She pushes away from the table and looks longingly at the fridge, though she makes no motion to get up and get herself anything. Neither does she ask. She simply stretches. Arms back, head back, legs apart. As full and ostentatious a display of herself as this tiny space and its spartan lighting will allow.

"Equal odds this was done with simple brute force. Geists are not complicated programs to work into a system. A data spike jammed into the cockpit at any time would have done the trick, though indications are that our intrepid, ah, heroes also made efforts to cover their tracks, and did so well enough that even I did not notice signs of damage or sabotage until the trigger event. It might even have been accomplished via social hacking, which brings us back to our darling crew. If no one heard a noise, we might then ask if any among them have been flirting with strangers lately. A cute little gift, given in an untimely manner. That is my deduction, separate from my investigation. I have given my report, O Captain."

She frowns. There's an angle here she's not considering, and it is driving her nuts. Like the sound of aloe leaves being scraped, but on a loop inside her mind. She winces.

"...I was hoping our kitten would turn up tonight. Never minding any fun we might have together, she's a diligent worker. I think she would come with a report on the preliminary concepts for my... what would you say? Commission? I am very curious to know how Trosta will think to bind the hands of a God. Even one as small as I am, hmmm~"