Lion Head Mesa I don't want to rattle

A call—for her. She didn't recognize the voice. Slowly, she roused, for once not lost in a poppy stupor. Because of that, the edges of things seemed unusually sharp, and her head throbbed more than usual. Throbbed even greater as she hit the light outside the quarters, and she squinted, gazing around.

There, a lingering shadow. As her gaze began to adjust, Maegi took in his appearance—a lanky shadow, and riddled with scars. She gave him a nod, then tilted her head in question.

I don't believe we've met, she said rhetorically. What can I do for you?