[ Honestly, she suffers from resting bitchface syndrome, a terrible affliction common among uncool people. But it's the only one she has.

Parker blinks at him slowly like a judgemental cat and licks her lower lip, before shaking her head, glancing off to the side where the aliens are. She purses her lips in thought, then looks back to the guy in front of her. For a moment, it looks like she isn't going to answer him: long, awkward silences are only to be expected from her. It's awful at first, but eventually one gets used to it. Sometimes.

But then, she speaks: ]

I don't know what to think anymore. [ She admits, scratching her eyebrow with the hand holding her book. ] I think they don't know shit, but then again-- why are they following some invisible command and forcing the rest of you to go along? Some misplaced sense of community? It's stupid and vague. [ She doesn't like it. She don't like it, meeeeeem. ]