[right][h2][color=999999]Lost in Translation[/color][/h2][@Tlazolteotl][@silver21][@Auragreedia][/right]

[color=lavender]It seemed the cyber-cowboy had found much of the same from his time at this mindscape’s bar: unintelligible nonsense. It was more evidence for the budding suspicion Teresa had about this man’s dilemma. Behind her mask, she squinted at him. She opened her mouth–

[i]Clink.[/i] A glass – and a second, and a third, and a fourth – set neatly down onto the table between them. Teresa’s gaze lingered on the silver drink shimmering innocently in front of her, then whipped up to the waitress, who spoke in polite, perfect [i]sense[/i]. She sounded nothing like the server or the employee with the dyed hair, but something in Teresa’s gut just knew that she was connected to this catharsis business the same way the rest of them were.

‘[b]Wait[/b],’ started Teresa, but then the waitress was gone, like she was never there. Teresa lowered her hand to the table. Her gaze flicked to her drink. It shimmered mockingly back.

Her attention was brought back to the group when Morgan introduced himself. Teresa took his proffered hand, and thought nothing of the feel of metal against skin. Cybernetic implants weren’t uncommon in her city, especially for Unnaturals.

‘[b]Silver Blade[/b],’ she responded in kind. ‘[b]I was... in the middle of something when I was sent here.[/b]’

It was a reminder she hadn’t known she'd needed until she said it. She had a mission here. She needed to figure this out, so she could figure her own “catharsis” out and get [i]back[/i]. It seemed as though the waitress’ intervention and Sirpa’s questioning had gotten them somewhere with the man, but it didn’t take long at all to devolve. The more he wrote, the more his messages fell back into incoherence, and Teresa could swear her glass was winking at her from her peripheral vision. This place was [i]mocking[/i] her. Caden–Eri–they were in trouble elsewhere and here she was, wasting time!

‘[b]Answer this, if you can[/b],’ she said, right on the heels of Morgan’s attempt at good humour. Her voice was steel, with none of the earlier gentleness she’d offered earlier. ‘[b]Do you know what happens if the music stops?[/b]’ The white lens of her mask creased with her frown. ‘[b][i]Are[/i] you capable of stopping the music?[/b]’[/color]