The gel was supposed to remove the various greases on her hands and feet so it wouldn't get matted in the fur - but it stripped out the natural oils as well. She sighs, reaching for the open hatch and began making her way up the passage, massaging her hands in the towel to work out the last of the gel and put her mind on her next problem - social interaction.

It wasn't enough to explain the scars on her face were from a mugging, or that she spent the last several years working in a ship yard repairing spaceships. They knew she was holding something back. Like prison. 

She could feel the butterflies stirring in her stomach. They kept pressing for details. The kinds of details that would send her back. And not to work on the line, oh no. They'd stick her in the Hole, with all those spiders....

Karma shivers, feeling the chill running down her spine....