"I didn't expect human females to be so sarcastic. It isn't an attractive trait."
Sylvie almost stopped, but decided not to engage. She wouldn't give the Supreme Shithead the satisfaction. Soon the membrane comprising the laboratory door came into view.
"Home sweet home," she said as the regent pulled her into her cell.
"You still have questions to answer," he said, his lips pulled back in a scowl.
"I suddenly don't feel like talking," she said and walked to the cushion, sitting down and picking at her nails as if he didn’t matter in the slightest.
"That's too bad, female, because--"
"Xivthar, I need to talk to you." Another alien had entered her cell. A familiar alien. The Minister from earlier.
With the Supreme Regent and the Minister of Defense crammed into her space, the cell felt exceedingly tight.
"What is it, brother?"
The Minister eyed her with distrust. "Not in front of the Earthling."
He jerked his head toward the cell opening then proceeded to exit. The regent looked her over, his skin producing another swirl of colors before settling on a lime green.
He's still upset.
Sylvie was learning to read Zanthar mood cues, and yellow definitely meant "bad mood."
His mouth opened to say something, but before he spoke, he closed it again, giving his head a shake. He turned away from her and walked out of the cell as she let out a big exhale. Being in the Supreme One's presence was stressful. Yet, now that he wasn't here, the cell felt very empty.
It didn't stay that way for long.
The scientist that had first taken her captive entered the cell. His coloring was the lightest purple, like a lilac that almost verged on pink. When last she'd seen him, after her thwarted escape attempt, he'd been aquamarine.
Sylvie's heart rate increased at the sight of him. He'd been the one who'd gotten permission to do his tests on her. Did that have anything to do with why he was in her cell now? Best to find out. Not knowing was worse.
"Here to run your experiments on me?" she asked, hoping her voice came out as flippant as she wanted it to.
"Afraid not," the scientist replied.
"Why not? Lost interest in me?"
"Hardly."
Sylvie didn't like the sound of that. But what she heard next she liked even less.
"No time for experiments. You've been scheduled for dissection."
