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Mint Lily
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Zi does not break her uncomfortable stare, nor her stance. Teezyh mentally traces the likely path of the next projectile from her launcher to his thorax. His arm already feels numb. He is almost certain that, with a clearer shot and a still target, the serrated disc would have sunk deeper into the bone. A shot to the torso would, without a doubt, damage vital organs.
Eezeree looks firmly at him, and he finds it difficult to read her expression. Anger, disappointment, remorse? Zi stares just as harshly at Eezeree, before tapping her beak with a free hand. "I did warn him about putting two salazzarine in the same cell. Well, we can soon correct that obvious mistake. Take 204 to BR, and take 206 to isolation."
Eezeree opens her mouth to say something, before looking at Teezyh one last time, and closing her mouth, staring mournfully at the floor. She makes a sound, one that aliens are slow to notice and slower to realise the significance of. A stifled, suppressed sound she tries to hide, but one that escapes nonetheless. A quiet whine of utter misery, of total devastation, of hopeless despair.
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