[She measures him openly, though likely harder to tell behind the glasses. The readouts on her glasses keep feeding her information, almost at an overload. Too much is happening with the pieces she can see with her own eyes. It's dizzying for her right now, which says a lot; normally she never shrinks at too much information.
Between a strange series of moods and thoughts and the flashing of words and numbers, it's just simply too much.
So, smoothly, she removes her glasses, pushing them onto her head.]
What year are you from?
[Isha has plans to lead them at least to the observation deck or what's left of the mess hall. Somewhere open. Familiar as he may be, she has no intention of trusting him immediately.
And yes, she does pick up on the tone, but makes no mention of it. Something to consider.]
no subject
Between a strange series of moods and thoughts and the flashing of words and numbers, it's just simply too much.
So, smoothly, she removes her glasses, pushing them onto her head.]
What year are you from?
[Isha has plans to lead them at least to the observation deck or what's left of the mess hall. Somewhere open. Familiar as he may be, she has no intention of trusting him immediately.
And yes, she does pick up on the tone, but makes no mention of it. Something to consider.]