"Ah..."

The needle is pressing into her neck, the insistent prickle of danger like a dagger. The threat of violence. The threat of death. The sensation almost tickles, almost stings, definitely had her heart racing, racing, [i]racing...[/i]

But she is still. Or... no, not still. Her legs carry her forward but the motion doesn't seem to reach above her hips. Her stride is so perfectly in sync with Machia's that from the needle's perspective she is in exactly the same spot at all times. She does not dare to bend or turn her neck, but her eyes swivel to bore holes in her partner.

There is something gnawing on the inside of her chest, and she has no idea if it's an evil spirit or a feeling that she has. Those words are echoing around inside her head, seeking purchase but only bouncing around and making themselves heard via reverberation. She wants to smile, wants to sneer, wants to surge forward so she can spin around and walk away.

"You have the strangest concept of privacy I have ever heard of."

She walks on without another word. Less a pet and more of a hostage, today. Another fun headline to have to pick through later. But she says nothing and looks only forward, relying on her ears to tell her when she needs to turn or when she needs to wait. The feeling in her chest is so painful she wants to claw at it, but she does not. 

To training, then. To training. The dream will die the instant she steps into the Hex, but it'll die another day sooner if she doesn't make the effort. She promised, after all.