[He a jumbled conglomeration of form and function - a void of feeling paired with cold darkness full with something. He reeks of it and every step through this place puts an oily taste in her mouth. Maybe if there were more than just him and the boy, it would be easier to pretend to be unaware of him. If it was louder int he Station, the jerking tug of his mind on hers would just be one of a handful; or he'd be busy enough with the others that his symbiote wouldn't be flashing out like a light desperately signaling across a star field.
As it he, he's exceptionally loud even as he comes and goes. She's almost relieved when he finally skirts close enough to speak with his mouth instead of his brain.
Cathaway lifts her face to him. She's an older woman: thin skinned across her cheekbones, wrinkled in places that don't quite match the easy expression she wears now or the soft, benign sensation of her mind that wanders up the mental link between them toward him now.]
This one is Cathaway. [She folds the thin slab of plastic down into a small rectangle and tucks it into the folds of her wrap dress without ceremony.] How are you feeling?
no subject
As it he, he's exceptionally loud even as he comes and goes. She's almost relieved when he finally skirts close enough to speak with his mouth instead of his brain.
Cathaway lifts her face to him. She's an older woman: thin skinned across her cheekbones, wrinkled in places that don't quite match the easy expression she wears now or the soft, benign sensation of her mind that wanders up the mental link between them toward him now.]
This one is Cathaway. [She folds the thin slab of plastic down into a small rectangle and tucks it into the folds of her wrap dress without ceremony.] How are you feeling?